The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (121 page)

To instant burial, while their deaths were spread

To other neighbour cities where they liv’d,

From whence in swiftest fisher-boats arriv’d

Men to transfer them home. In mean space here

The heavy nobles all in counsel were;

Where, met in much heap, up to all arose

Extremely griev’d Eupitheus so to lose

His son Antinous, who first of all

By great Ulysses’ hand had slaught’rous fall.

Whose father, weeping for him, said: ‘O friends,

This man hath author’d works of dismal ends,

Long since conveying in his guide to Troy

Good men, and many that did ships employ,

All which are lost, and all their soldiers dead;

And now the best men Cephallenia bred

His hand hath slaughter’d. Go we then (before

His ’scape to Pylos, or the Elian shore

Where rule the Epeans) ’gainst his horrid hand.

For we shall grieve, and infamy will brand

Our fames for ever, if we see our sons

And brothers end in these confusions,

Revenge left uninflicted. Nor will I

Enjoy one day’s life more, but grieve and die

With instant onset; nor should you survive

To keep a base and beastly name alive.

Haste, then, lest flight prevent us.’ This with tears

His griefs advis’d, and made all sufferers

In his affliction. But by this was come

Up to the council from Ulysses’ home –

When sleep had left them, which the slaughters there

And their self-dangers from their eyes in fear

Had two nights intercepted – those two men

That just Ulysses saved out of the slain,

Which Medon and the sacred singer were.

These stood amidst the council; and the fear

The slaughter had impress’d in either’s look

Stuck still so ghastly, that amaze it strook

Through every there beholder. To whose ears

One thus enforc’d, in his fright, cause of theirs:

‘Attend me, Ithacensians! This stern fact

Done by Ulysses was not put in act

Without the gods’ assistance. These self eyes

Saw one of the immortal deities

Close by Ulysses, Mentor’s form put on

At every part. And this sure deity shone

Now near Ulysses, setting on his bold

And slaught’rous spirit, now the points controll’d

Of all the wooers’ weapons, round about

The arm’d house whisking, in continual rout

Their party putting, till in heaps they fell.’

This news new fears did through their spirits impel,

When Halitherses (honour’d Mastor’s son,

Who of them all saw only what was done

Present and future), the much-knowing man

And aged heroë, this plain course ran

Amongst their counsels: ‘Give me likewise ear,

And let me tell ye, friends, that these ills bear

On your malignant spleens their sad effects,

Who not what I persuaded gave respects,

Nor what the people’s pastor, Mentor, said –

That you should see your issues’ follies stay’d

In those foul courses, by their petulant life

The goods devouring, scandalling the wife

Of no mean person, who, they still would say,

Could never more see his returning day.

Which yet appearing now, now give it trust,

And yield to my free counsels: do not thrust

Your own safe persons on the acts your sons

So dearly bought, lest their confusions

On your lov’d heads your like addictions draw.’

This stood so far from force of any law

To curb their loose attempts, that much the more

They rush’d to wreak, and made rude tumult roar.

The greater part of all the court arose;

Good counsel could not ill designs dispose.

Eupitheus was persuader of the course,

Which, complete arm’d, they put in present force;

The rest sat still in council. These men met

Before the broad town, in a place they set

All girt in arms, Eupitheus choosing chief

To all their follies, who put grief to grief,

And in his slaughter’d son’s revenge did burn.

But Fate gave never feet to his return,

Ordaining there his death. Then Pallas spake

To Jove her father, with intent to make

His will high arbiter of th’ act design’d,

And ask’d of him what his unsearched mind

Held undiscover’d? If with arms and ill

And grave encounter he would first fulfil

His sacred purpose, or both parts combine

In peaceful friendship? He ask’d: ‘Why incline

These doubts thy counsels? Hast not thou decreed

That Ithacus should come and give his deed

The glory of revenge on these and theirs?

Perform thy will; the frame of these affairs

Have this fit issue: when Ulysses’ hand

Hath reach’d full wreak, his then renown’d command

Shall reign for ever, faithful truces strook

’Twixt him and all; for every man shall brook

His sons’ and brothers’ slaughters, by our mean

To send Oblivion in, expunging clean

The character of enmity in them all,

As in best leagues before. Peace, festival,

And riches in abundance, be the state

That crowns the close of wise Ulysses’ fate.’

This spurr’d the free, who from heav’n’s continent

To th’ Ithacensian isle made straight descent.

Where, dinner past, Ulysses said: ‘Some one

Look out to see their nearness.’ Dolius’ son

Made present speed abroad, and saw them nigh,

Ran back and told, bade arm; and instantly

Were all in arms. Ulysses’ part was four,

And six more sons of Dolius; all his pow’r

Two only more, which were his aged sire

And like-year’d Dolius, whose lives’ slaked fire

All white had left their heads, yet, driv’n by need,

Made soldiers both of necessary deed.

And now, all girt in arms, the ports set wide,

They sallied forth, Ulysses being their guide;

And to them in the instant Pallas came,

In form and voice like Mentor, who a flame

Inspir’d of comfort in Ulysses’ heart

With her seen presence. To his son, apart,

He thus then spake: ‘Now, son, your eyes shall see,

Expos’d in slaughterous fight the enemy,

Against whom who shall best serve will be seen.

Disgrace not then your race, that yet hath been

For force and fortitude the foremost tried

Of all earth’s offsprings.’ His true son replied:

‘Yourself shall see, lov’d father, if you please,

That my deservings shall in nought digress

From best fame of our race’s foremost merit.’

The old king sprung for joy to hear his spirit,

And said: ‘O lov’d immortals, what a day

Do your clear bounties to my life display!

I joy, past measure, to behold my son

And nephew close in such contention

Of virtues martial.’ Pallas, standing near,

Said: ‘O my friend! Of all supremely dear,

Seed of Arcesius, pray to Jove and her

That rules in arms, his daughter, and a dart,

Spritefully brandish’d, hurl at th’ adverse part.’

This said, he pray’d; and she a mighty force

Inspir’d within him, who gave instant course

To his brave-brandish’d lance, which struck the brass

That cheek’d Eupitheus’ casque, and thrust his pass

Quite through his head; who fell, and sounded falling,

His arms the sound again from earth recalling.

Ulysses and his son rush’d on before,

And with their both-way-headed darts did gore

Their enemies’ breasts so thick, that all had gone

The way of slaughter, had not Pallas thrown

Her voice betwixt them, charging all to stay

And spare expense of blood. Her voice did fray

The blood so from their faces that it left

A greenish paleness; all their hands it reft

Of all their weapons, falling thence to earth;

And to the common mother of their birth,

The city, all fled, in desire to save

The lives yet left them. Then Ulysses gave

A horrid shout, and like Jove’s eagle flew

In fiery pursuit, till Saturnius threw

His smoking lightning ’twixt them, that had fall

Before Minerva, who then out did call

Thus to Ulysses: ‘Born of Jove! Abstain

From further bloodshed. Jove’s hand in the slain

Hath equall’d in their pains their prides to thee.

Abstain, then, lest you move the deity.’

Again then ’twixt both parts the seed of Jove,

Athenian Pallas, of all future love

A league compos’d, and for her form took choice

Of Mentor’s likeness both in limb and voice.

The end of the twenty-fourth book

So wrought divine Ulysses through his woes,

So crown’d the light with him his mother’s throes,

As through his great renowner I have wrought,

And my safe sail to sacred anchor brought.

Nor did the Argive ship more burthen feel,

That bore the care of all men in her keel,

Than my adventurous bark; the Colchian fleece

Not half so precious as this soul of Greece,

In whose songs I have made our shores rejoice,

And Greek itself vail to our English voice.

Yet this inestimable pearl will all

Our dunghill chanticleers but obvious call,

Each modern scraper this gem scratching by,

His oat preferring far. Let such let lie.

So scorn the stars the clouds, as true-soul’d men

Despise deceivers. For, as clouds would fain

Obscure the stars, yet (regions left below

With all their envies) bar them but of show,

For they shine ever, and will shine, when they

Dissolve in sinks, make mire, and temper clay:

So puf
f
’
d impostors (our muse-vapours) strive,

With their self-blown additions, to deprive

Men solid of their full, though infinite short

They come in their compare, and false report

Of levelling or touching at their light,

That still retain their radiance, and clear right,

And shall shine ever, when, alas, one blast

Of least disgrace tears down th’ impostor’s mast,

His tops and tacklings, his whole freight, and he

Confiscate to the fishy monarchy,

His trash, by foolish Fame brought now, from hence

Giv’n to serve mackerel forth, and frankincense.

Such then, and any too soft-eyed to see,

Through works so solid, any worth, so free

Of all the learn’d professions, as is fit

To praise at such price, let him think his wit

Too weak to rate it, rather than oppose

With his poor pow’rs ages and hosts of foes.

To the ruins of Troy and Greece

Troy rac’t, Greece wrack’t, who mourns? Ye both may boast,

Else th’ Iliads and Odysseys had been lost!

Ad Deum

The Only True God (betwixt Whom and me

I only bound my comfort, and agree

With all my actions) only truly knows,

And can judge truly, me, with all that goes

To all my faculties. In Whose free Grace

And Inspiration I only place

All means to know (with my means, study, prayer,

In and from His Word taken) stair by stair,

In all continual contentation, rising

To knowledge of His Truth, and practising

His Will in it, with my sole Saviour’s Aid,

Guide, and Enlight’ning; nothing done, nor said,

Nor thought, that good is, but acknowledg’d by

His Inclination, Skill, and Faculty.

By which, to find the way out to His Love

Past all the worlds, the sphere is where doth move

My studies, pray’rs, and pow’rs; no pleasure taken

But sign’d by His, for which, my blood forsaken,

My soul I cleave to, and what (in His Blood

That hath redeem’d, cleansed, taught her) fits her good.

Deo Opt. Max. gloria

Finis