BOOK IIARGUMENTTelemachus having convened an assembly of the Greecians, publicly calls on the Suitors to relinquish the house of Ulysses. During the continuance of the Council he has much to suffer from the petulance of the Suitors, from whom, having informed them of his design to undertake a voyage in hope to obtain news of Ulysses, he asks a ship, with all things necessary for the purpose. He is refused, but is afterwards furnished with what he wants by Minerva, in the form of Mentor. He embarks in the evening without the privity of his mother, and the Goddess sails with him.Aurora, rosy daughter of the dawn,Now ting’d the East, when habited again,Uprose Ulysses’ offspring from his bed.Athwart his back his faulchion keen he flung,His sandals bound to his unsullied feet,And, godlike, issued from his chamber-door.At once the clear-voic’d heralds he enjoin’dTo call the Greeks to council; they aloudGave forth the summons, and the throng began.When all were gather’d, and the assembly full,10Himself, his hand arm’d with a brazen spear,Went also; nor alone he went; his houndsFleet-footed follow’d him, a faithful pair.O’er all his form Minerva largely shedMajestic grace divine, and, as he went,The whole admiring concourse gaz’d on him,The seniors gave him place, and down he satOn his paternal Throne. Then grave aroseThe Hero, old Ægyptius; bow’d with ageWas he, and by experience deep-inform’d.20His son had with Ulysses, godlike Chief,On board his fleet to steed-fam’d Ilium gone,The warrior Antiphus, whom in his caveThe savage Cyclops slew, and on his fleshAt ev’ning made obscene his last regale.Three sons he had beside, a suitor one,Eurynomus; the other two, employFound constant managing their Sire’s concerns.Yet he forgat not, father as he wasOf these, his absent eldest, whom he mourn’d30Ceaseless, and thus his speech, weeping, began.Hear me, ye men of Ithaca, my friends!Nor council here nor session hath been heldSince great Ulysses left his native shore.Who now convenes us? what especial needHath urged him, whether of our youth he be,Or of our senators by age matured?Have tidings reach’d him of our host’s return,Which here he would divulge? or brings he aughtOf public import on a diff’rent theme?40I deem him, whosoe’er he be, a manWorthy to prosper, and may Jove vouchsafeThe full performance of his chief desire!He ended, and Telemachus rejoicedIn that good omen. Ardent to begin,He sat not long, but, moving to the midst,Received the sceptre from Pisenor’s hand,His prudent herald, and addressing, next,The hoary Chief Ægyptius, thus began.Not far remote, as thou shalt soon thyself50Perceive, oh venerable Chief! he stands,Who hath convened this council. I, am He.I am in chief the suff’rer. Tidings noneOf the returning host I have received,Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aughtOf public import on a different theme,But my own trouble, on my own house fall’n,And two-fold fall’n. One is, that I have lostA noble father, who, as fathers ruleBenign their children, govern’d once yourselves;60The other, and the more alarming ill,With ruin threatens my whole house, and allMy patrimony with immediate waste.Suitors, (their children who in this our isleHold highest rank) importunate besiegeMy mother, though desirous not to wed,And rather than resort to her own SireIcarius, who might give his daughter dow’r,And portion her to whom he most approves,(A course which, only named, moves their disgust)70They chuse, assembling all within my gatesDaily to make my beeves, my sheep, my goatsTheir banquet, and to drink without restraintMy wine; whence ruin threatens us and ours;For I have no Ulysses to relieveMe and my family from this abuse.Ourselves are not sufficient; we, alas!Too feeble should be found, and yet to learnHow best to use the little force we own;Else, had I pow’r, I would, myself, redress80The evil; for it now surpasses farAll suff’rance, now they ravage uncontroul’d,Nor show of decency vouchsafe me more.Oh be ashamed6yourselves; blush at the thoughtOf such reproach as ye shall sure incurFrom all our neighbour states, and fear besideThe wrath of the Immortals, lest they callYourselves one day to a severe account.I pray you by Olympian Jove, by herWhose voice convenes all councils, and again90Dissolves them, Themis, that henceforth ye cease,That ye permit me, oh my friends! to wearMy days in solitary grief away,Unless Ulysses, my illustrious Sire,Hath in his anger any Greecian wrong’d,Whose wrongs ye purpose to avenge on me,Inciting these to plague me. Better farWere my condition, if yourselves consumedMy substance and my revenue; from youI might obtain, perchance, righteous amends100Hereafter; you I might with vehement suitO’ercome, from house to house pleading aloudFor recompense, till I at last prevail’d.But now, with darts of anguish ye transfixMy inmost soul, and I have no redress.He spake impassion’d, and to earth cast downHis sceptre, weeping. Pity at that sightSeiz’d all the people; mute the assembly satLong time, none dared to greet TelemachusWith answer rough, till of them all, at last,110Antinoüs, sole arising, thus replied.Telemachus, intemp’rate in harangue,High-sounding orator! it is thy driftTo make us all odious; but the offenceLies not with us the suitors; she aloneThy mother, who in subtlety excels,And deep-wrought subterfuge, deserves the blame.It is already the third year, and soonShall be the fourth, since with delusive artPractising on their minds, she hath deceived120The Greecians; message after message sentBrings hope to each, by turns, and promise fair,But she, meantime, far otherwise intends.Her other arts exhausted all, she framedThis stratagem; a web of amplest sizeAnd subtlest woof beginning, thus she spake.Princes, my suitors! since the noble ChiefUlysses is no more, press not as yetMy nuptials, wait till I shall finish, first,A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads decay)130Which for the antient Hero I prepare,Laertes, looking for the mournful hourWhen fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;Else I the censure dread of all my sex,Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud.So spake the Queen, and unsuspicious, weWith her request complied. Thenceforth, all dayShe wove the ample web, and by the aidOf torches ravell’d it again at night.Three years by such contrivance she deceived140The Greecians; but when (three whole years elaps’d)The fourth arriv’d, then, conscious of the fraud,A damsel of her train told all the truth,And her we found rav’ling the beauteous work.Thus, through necessity she hath, at length,Perform’d the task, and in her own despight.Now therefore, for the information clearOf thee thyself, and of the other Greeks,We answer. Send thy mother hence, with chargeThat him she wed on whom her father’s choice150Shall fall, and whom she shall, herself, approve.But if by long procrastination stillShe persevere wearing our patience out,Attentive only to display the giftsBy Pallas so profusely dealt to her,Works of surpassing skill, ingenious thought,And subtle shifts, such as no beauteous Greek(For aught that we have heard) in antient timesE’er practised, Tyro, or Alcemena fair,Or fair Mycene, of whom none in art160E’er match’d Penelope, although we yieldTo this her last invention little praise,Then know, that these her suitors will consumeSo long thy patrimony and thy goods,As she her present purpose shall indulge,With which the Gods inspire her. Great renownShe to herself insures, but equal woeAnd devastation of thy wealth to thee;For neither to our proper works at homeGo we, of that be sure, nor yet elsewhere,170Till him she wed, to whom she most inclines.Him prudent, then, answer’d Telemachus.Antinoüs! it is not possibleThat I should thrust her forth against her will,Who both produced and reared me. Be he dead,Or still alive, my Sire is far remote,And should I, voluntary, hence dismissMy mother to Icarius, I must muchRefund, which hardship were and loss to me.So doing, I should also wrath incur180From my offended Sire, and from the GodsStill more; for she, departing, would invokeErynnis to avenge her, and reproachBeside would follow me from all mankind.That word I, therefore, never will pronounce.No, if ye judge your treatment at her handsInjurious to you, go ye forth yourselves,Forsake my mansion; seek where else ye mayYour feasts; consume your own; alternate feedEach at the other’s cost. But if it seem190Wisest in your account and best to eatVoracious thus the patrimonial goodsOf one man, rend’ring no account of all,Bite to the roots; but know that I will cryCeaseless to the eternal Gods, in hopeThat Jove, in retribution of the wrong,Shall doom you, where ye have intruded, thereTo bleed, and of your blood ask no account.So spake Telemachus, and while he spake,The Thund’rer from a lofty mountain-top200Turn’d off two eagles; on the winds, awhile,With outspread pinions ample side by sideThey floated; but, ere long, hov’ring aloft,Right o’er the midst of the assembled ChiefsThey wheel’d around, clang’d all their num’rous plumes,And with a downward look eyeing the throng,Death boded, ominous; then rending eachThe other’s face and neck, they sprang at onceToward the right, and darted through the town.Amazement universal, at that sight,210Seized the assembly, and with anxious thoughtEach scann’d the future; amidst whom aroseThe Hero Halitherses, antient Seer,Offspring of Mastor; for in judgment heOf portents augural, and in forecastUnerring, his coevals all excell’d,And prudent thus the multitude bespake.Ye men of Ithaca, give ear! hear all!Though chief my speech shall to the suitors look,For, on their heads devolved, comes down the woe.220Ulysses shall not from his friends, henceforth,Live absent long, but, hasting to his home,Comes even now, and as he comes, designsA bloody death for these, whose bitter woesNo few shall share, inhabitants with usOf pleasant Ithaca; but let us frameEffectual means maturely to suppressTheir violent deeds, or rather let themselvesRepentant cease; and soonest shall be best.Not inexpert, but well-inform’d I speak230The future, and the accomplishment announceOf all which when Ulysses with the GreeksEmbark’d for Troy, I to himself foretold.I said that, after many woes, and lossOf all his people, in the twentieth year,Unknown to all, he should regain his home,And my prediction shall be now fulfill’d.Him, then, Eurymachus thus answer’d roughThe son of Polybus. Hence to thy house,Thou hoary dotard! there, prophetic, teach240Thy children to escape woes else to come.Birds num’rous flutter in the beams of day,Not all predictive. Death, far hence remoteHath found Ulysses, and I would to heav’nThat, where he died, thyself had perish’d too.Thou hadst not then run o’er with prophecyAs now, nor provocation to the wrathGiv’n of Telemachus, in hope to win,Perchance, for thine some favour at his hands.But I totheeforetell, skilled as thou art250In legends old, (nor shall my threat be vain)That if by artifice thou move to wrathA younger than thyself, no matter whom,Woe first the heavier on himself shall fall,Nor shalt thou profit him by thy attempt,And we will charge thee also with a mulct,Which thou shalt pay with difficulty, and bearThe burthen of it with an aching heart.As for Telemachus, I him advise,Myself, and press the measure on his choice260Earnestly, that he send his mother henceTo her own father’s house, who shall, himself,Set forth her nuptial rites, and shall endowHis daughter sumptuously, and as he ought.For this expensive wooing, as I judge,Till then shall never cease; since we regardNo man—no—not Telemachus, althoughIn words exub’rant; neither fear we aughtThy vain prognostics, venerable sir!But only hate thee for their sake the more.270Waste will continue and disorder foulUnremedied, so long as she shall holdThe suitors in suspense, for, day by day,Our emulation goads us to the strife,Nor shall we, going hence, seek to espouseEach his own comfort suitable elsewhere.To whom, discrete, Telemachus replied.Eurymachus, and ye the suitor trainIllustrious, I have spoken: ye shall hearNo more this supplication urged by me.280The Gods, and all the Greeks, now know the truth.But give me instantly a gallant barkWith twenty rowers, skill’d their course to winTo whatsoever haven; for I goTo sandy Pylus, and shall hasten thenceTo Lacedemon, tidings to obtainOf my long-absent Sire, or from the lipsOf man, or by a word from Jove vouchsafedHimself, best source of notice to mankind.If, there inform’d that still my father lives,290I hope conceive of his return, althoughDistress’d, I shall be patient yet a year.But should I learn, haply, that he survivesNo longer, then, returning, I will raiseAt home his tomb, will with such pomp performHis fun’ral rites, as his great name demands,And give my mother’s hand to whom I may.This said, he sat, and after him aroseMentor, illustrious Ulysses’ friend,To whom, embarking thence, he had consign’d300All his concerns, that the old Chief might ruleHis family, and keep the whole secure.Arising, thus the senior, sage, began.Hear me, ye Ithacans! be never KingHenceforth, benevolent, gracious, humaneOr righteous, but let every sceptred handRule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,Since none of all his people, whom he sway’dWith such paternal gentleness and love,Remembers the divine Ulysses more!310That the imperious suitors thus should weaveThe web of mischief and atrocious wrong,I grudge not; since at hazard of their headsThey make Ulysses’ property a prey,Persuaded that the Hero comes no more.But much the people move me; how ye sitAll mute, and though a multitude, yourselves,Opposed to few, risque not a single wordTo check the license of these bold intruders!Then thus Liocritus, Evenor’s son.320Injurious Mentor! headlong orator!How dar’st thou move the populace againstThe suitors? Trust me they should find it hard,Numerous as they are, to cope with us,A feast the prize. Or should the King himselfOf Ithaca, returning, undertakeT’ expell the jovial suitors from his house,Much as Penelope his absence mourns,His presence should afford her little joy;For fighting sole with many, he should meet330A dreadful death. Thou, therefore, speak’st amiss.As for Telemachus, let Mentor himAnd Halytherses furnish forth, the friendsLong valued of his Sire, with all dispatch;Though him I judge far likelier to remainLong-time contented an enquirer here,Than to perform the voyage now proposed.Thus saying, Liocritus dissolved in hasteThe council, and the scattered concourse soughtTheir sev’ral homes, while all the suitors flock’d340Thence to the palace of their absent King.Meantime, Telemachus from all resortRetiring, in the surf of the gray DeepFirst laved his hands, then, thus to Pallas pray’d.O Goddess! who wast yesterday a guestBeneath my roof, and didst enjoin me thenA voyage o’er the sable Deep in questOf tidings of my long regretted Sire!Which voyage, all in Ithaca, but mostThe haughty suitors, obstinate impede,350Now hear my suit and gracious interpose!Such pray’r he made; then Pallas, in the form,And with the voice of Mentor, drawing nigh,In accents wing’d, him kindly thus bespake.Telemachus! thou shalt hereafter proveNor base, nor poor in talents. If, in truth,Thou have received from heav’n thy father’s forceInstill’d into thee, and resemblest himIn promptness both of action and of speech,Thy voyage shall not useless be, or vain.360But if Penelope produced thee notHis son, I, then, hope not for good effectOf this design which, ardent, thou pursuest.Few sons their fathers equal; most appearDegenerate; but we find, though rare, sometimesA son superior even to his Sire.And since thyself shalt neither base be foundNor spiritless, nor altogether voidOf talents, such as grace thy royal Sire,I therefore hope success of thy attempt.370Heed not the suitors’ projects; neither wiseAre they, nor just, nor aught suspect the doomWhich now approaches them, and in one dayShall overwhelm them all. No long suspenseShall hold thy purposed enterprise in doubt,Such help from me, of old thy father’s friend,Thou shalt receive, who with a bark well-oar’dWill serve thee, and myself attend thee forth.But haste, join thou the suitors, and provide,In sep’rate vessels stow’d, all needful stores,380Wine in thy jars, and flour, the strength of man,In skins close-seam’d. I will, meantime, selectSuch as shall voluntary share thy toils.In sea-girt Ithaca new ships and oldAbound, and I will chuse, myself, for theeThe prime of all, which without more delayWe will launch out into the spacious Deep.Thus Pallas spake, daughter of Jove; nor long,So greeted by the voice divine, remain’dTelemachus, but to his palace went390Distress’d in heart. He found the suitors thereGoats slaying in the hall, and fatted swineRoasting; when with a laugh Antinoüs flewTo meet him, fasten’d on his hand, and said,Telemachus, in eloquence sublime,And of a spirit not to be controul’d!Give harbour in thy breast on no accountTo after-grudge or enmity, but eat,Far rather, cheerfully as heretofore,And freely drink, committing all thy cares400To the Achaians, who shall furnish forthA gallant ship and chosen crew for thee,That thou may’st hence to Pylus with all speed,Tidings to learn of thy illustrious Sire.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Antinoüs! I have no heart to feastWith guests so insolent, nor can indulgeThe pleasures of a mind at ease, with you.Is’t not enough, suitors, that ye have usedMy noble patrimony as your own410While I was yet a child? now, grown mature,And competent to understand the speechOf my instructors, feeling, too, a mindWithin me conscious of augmented pow’rs,I will attempt your ruin, be assured,Whether at Pylus, or continuing here.I go, indeed, (nor shall my voyage proveOf which I speak, bootless or vain) I goAn humble passenger, who neither barkNor rowers have to boast my own, denied420That honour (so ye judg’d it best) by you.He said, and from Antinoüs’ hand his ownDrew sudden. Then their delicate repastThe busy suitors on all sides prepar’d,Still taunting as they toil’d, and with sharp speechSarcastic wantoning, of whom a youth,Arrogant as his fellows, thus began.I see it plain, Telemachus intendsOur slaughter; either he will aids procureFrom sandy Pylus, or will bring them arm’d430From Sparta; such is his tremendous drift.Even to fruitful Ephyre, perchance,He will proceed, seeking some baneful herbWhich cast into our cup, shall drug us all.To whom some haughty suitor thus replied.Who knows but that himself, wand’ring the seaFrom all his friends and kindred far remote,May perish like Ulysses? Whence to usShould double toil ensue, on whom the chargeTo parcel out his wealth would then devolve,440And to endow his mother with the houseFor his abode whom she should chance to wed.So sported they; but he, ascending soughtHis father’s lofty chamber, where his heapsHe kept of brass and gold, garments in chests,And oils of fragrant scent, a copious store.There many a cask with season’d nectar fill’dThe grape’s pure juice divine, beside the wallStood orderly arranged, waiting the hour(Should e’er such hour arrive) when, after woes450Num’rous, Ulysses should regain his home.Secure that chamber was with folding doorsOf massy planks compact, and night and day,Within it antient Euryclea dwelt,Guardian discrete of all the treasures there,Whom, thither call’d, Telemachus address’d.Nurse! draw me forth sweet wine into my jars,Delicious next to that which thou reserv’stFor our poor wand’rer; if escaping deathAt last, divine Ulysses e’er return.460Fill twelve, and stop them close; pour also mealWell mill’d (full twenty measures) into skinsClose-seam’d, and mention what thou dost to none.Place them together; for at even-tideI will convey them hence, soon as the Queen,Retiring to her couch, shall seek repose.For hence to Sparta will I take my course,And sandy Pylus, tidings there to hear(If hear I may) of my lov’d Sire’s return.He ceas’d, then wept his gentle nurse that sound470Hearing, and in wing’d accents thus replied.My child! ah, wherefore hath a thought so rashPossess’d thee? whither, only and belov’d,Seek’st thou to ramble, travelling, alas!To distant climes? Ulysses is no more;Dead lies the Hero in some land unknown,And thou no sooner shalt depart, than theseWill plot to slay thee, and divide thy wealth.No, stay with us who love thee. Need is noneThat thou should’st on the barren Deep distress480Encounter, roaming without hope or end.Whom, prudent, thus answer’d Telemachus.Take courage, nurse! for not without consentOf the Immortals I have thus resolv’d.But swear, that till eleven days be past,Or twelve, or, till enquiry made, she learnHerself my going, thou wilt not impartOf this my purpose to my mother’s ear,Lest all her beauties fade by grief impair’d.He ended, and the antient matron swore490Solemnly by the Gods; which done, she fill’dWith wine the vessels and the skins with meal,And he, returning, join’d the throng below.Then Pallas, Goddess azure-eyed, her thoughtsElsewhere directing, all the city rangedIn semblance of Telemachus, each manExhorting, at the dusk of eve, to seekThe gallant ship, and from Noëmon, sonRenown’d of Phronius, ask’d, herself, a bark,Which soon as ask’d, he promis’d to supply.500Now set the sun, and twilight dimm’d the ways,When, drawing down his bark into the Deep,He gave her all her furniture, oars, armsAnd tackle, such as well-built galleys bear,Then moor’d her in the bottom of the bay.Meantime, his mariners in haste repair’dDown to the shore, for Pallas urged them on.And now on other purposes intent,The Goddess sought the palace, where with dewsOf slumber drenching ev’ry suitor’s eye,510She fool’d the drunkard multitude, and dash’dThe goblets from their idle hands away.They through the city reeled, happy to leaveThe dull carousal, when the slumb’rous weightOppressive on their eye-lids once had fall’n.Next, Pallas azure-eyed in Mentor’s formAnd with the voice of Mentor, summoningTelemachus abroad, him thus bespake.Telemachus! already at their oarsSit all thy fellow-voyagers, and wait520Thy coming; linger not, but haste away.This said, Minerva led him thence, whom heWith nimble steps follow’d, and on the shoreArrived, found all his mariners prepared,Whom thus the princely voyager address’d.Haste, my companions! bring we down the storesAlready sorted and set forth; but noughtMy mother knows, or any of her trainOf this design, one matron sole except.He spake, and led them; they, obedient, brought530All down, and, as Ulysses’ son enjoin’d,Within the gallant bark the charge bestow’d.Then, led by Pallas, went the prince on board,Where down they sat, the Goddess in the stern,And at her side Telemachus. The crewCast loose the hawsers, and embarking, fill’dThe benches. Blue-eyed Pallas from the WestCall’d forth propitious breezes; fresh they curledThe sable Deep, and, sounding, swept the waves.He loud-exhorting them, his people bade540Hand, brisk, the tackle; they, obedient, rearedThe pine-tree mast, which in its socket deepThey lodg’d, then strain’d the cordage, and with thongsWell-twisted, drew the shining sail aloft.A land-breeze fill’d the canvas, and the floodRoar’d as she went against the steady barkThat ran with even course her liquid way.The rigging, thus, of all the galley set,Their beakers crowning high with wine, they hail’dThe ever-living Gods, but above all550Minerva, daughter azure-eyed of Jove.Thus, all night long the galley, and till dawnHad brighten’d into day, cleaved swift the flood.6The reader is to be reminded that this is not an assembly of the suitors only, but a general one, which affords Telemachus an opportunity to apply himself to the feelings of the Ithacans at large.
Telemachus having convened an assembly of the Greecians, publicly calls on the Suitors to relinquish the house of Ulysses. During the continuance of the Council he has much to suffer from the petulance of the Suitors, from whom, having informed them of his design to undertake a voyage in hope to obtain news of Ulysses, he asks a ship, with all things necessary for the purpose. He is refused, but is afterwards furnished with what he wants by Minerva, in the form of Mentor. He embarks in the evening without the privity of his mother, and the Goddess sails with him.
Aurora, rosy daughter of the dawn,Now ting’d the East, when habited again,Uprose Ulysses’ offspring from his bed.Athwart his back his faulchion keen he flung,His sandals bound to his unsullied feet,And, godlike, issued from his chamber-door.At once the clear-voic’d heralds he enjoin’dTo call the Greeks to council; they aloudGave forth the summons, and the throng began.When all were gather’d, and the assembly full,10Himself, his hand arm’d with a brazen spear,Went also; nor alone he went; his houndsFleet-footed follow’d him, a faithful pair.O’er all his form Minerva largely shedMajestic grace divine, and, as he went,The whole admiring concourse gaz’d on him,The seniors gave him place, and down he satOn his paternal Throne. Then grave aroseThe Hero, old Ægyptius; bow’d with ageWas he, and by experience deep-inform’d.20His son had with Ulysses, godlike Chief,On board his fleet to steed-fam’d Ilium gone,The warrior Antiphus, whom in his caveThe savage Cyclops slew, and on his fleshAt ev’ning made obscene his last regale.Three sons he had beside, a suitor one,Eurynomus; the other two, employFound constant managing their Sire’s concerns.Yet he forgat not, father as he wasOf these, his absent eldest, whom he mourn’d30Ceaseless, and thus his speech, weeping, began.Hear me, ye men of Ithaca, my friends!Nor council here nor session hath been heldSince great Ulysses left his native shore.Who now convenes us? what especial needHath urged him, whether of our youth he be,Or of our senators by age matured?Have tidings reach’d him of our host’s return,Which here he would divulge? or brings he aughtOf public import on a diff’rent theme?40I deem him, whosoe’er he be, a manWorthy to prosper, and may Jove vouchsafeThe full performance of his chief desire!He ended, and Telemachus rejoicedIn that good omen. Ardent to begin,He sat not long, but, moving to the midst,Received the sceptre from Pisenor’s hand,His prudent herald, and addressing, next,The hoary Chief Ægyptius, thus began.Not far remote, as thou shalt soon thyself50Perceive, oh venerable Chief! he stands,Who hath convened this council. I, am He.I am in chief the suff’rer. Tidings noneOf the returning host I have received,Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aughtOf public import on a different theme,But my own trouble, on my own house fall’n,And two-fold fall’n. One is, that I have lostA noble father, who, as fathers ruleBenign their children, govern’d once yourselves;60The other, and the more alarming ill,With ruin threatens my whole house, and allMy patrimony with immediate waste.Suitors, (their children who in this our isleHold highest rank) importunate besiegeMy mother, though desirous not to wed,And rather than resort to her own SireIcarius, who might give his daughter dow’r,And portion her to whom he most approves,(A course which, only named, moves their disgust)70They chuse, assembling all within my gatesDaily to make my beeves, my sheep, my goatsTheir banquet, and to drink without restraintMy wine; whence ruin threatens us and ours;For I have no Ulysses to relieveMe and my family from this abuse.Ourselves are not sufficient; we, alas!Too feeble should be found, and yet to learnHow best to use the little force we own;Else, had I pow’r, I would, myself, redress80The evil; for it now surpasses farAll suff’rance, now they ravage uncontroul’d,Nor show of decency vouchsafe me more.Oh be ashamed6yourselves; blush at the thoughtOf such reproach as ye shall sure incurFrom all our neighbour states, and fear besideThe wrath of the Immortals, lest they callYourselves one day to a severe account.I pray you by Olympian Jove, by herWhose voice convenes all councils, and again90Dissolves them, Themis, that henceforth ye cease,That ye permit me, oh my friends! to wearMy days in solitary grief away,Unless Ulysses, my illustrious Sire,Hath in his anger any Greecian wrong’d,Whose wrongs ye purpose to avenge on me,Inciting these to plague me. Better farWere my condition, if yourselves consumedMy substance and my revenue; from youI might obtain, perchance, righteous amends100Hereafter; you I might with vehement suitO’ercome, from house to house pleading aloudFor recompense, till I at last prevail’d.But now, with darts of anguish ye transfixMy inmost soul, and I have no redress.He spake impassion’d, and to earth cast downHis sceptre, weeping. Pity at that sightSeiz’d all the people; mute the assembly satLong time, none dared to greet TelemachusWith answer rough, till of them all, at last,110Antinoüs, sole arising, thus replied.Telemachus, intemp’rate in harangue,High-sounding orator! it is thy driftTo make us all odious; but the offenceLies not with us the suitors; she aloneThy mother, who in subtlety excels,And deep-wrought subterfuge, deserves the blame.It is already the third year, and soonShall be the fourth, since with delusive artPractising on their minds, she hath deceived120The Greecians; message after message sentBrings hope to each, by turns, and promise fair,But she, meantime, far otherwise intends.Her other arts exhausted all, she framedThis stratagem; a web of amplest sizeAnd subtlest woof beginning, thus she spake.Princes, my suitors! since the noble ChiefUlysses is no more, press not as yetMy nuptials, wait till I shall finish, first,A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads decay)130Which for the antient Hero I prepare,Laertes, looking for the mournful hourWhen fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;Else I the censure dread of all my sex,Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud.So spake the Queen, and unsuspicious, weWith her request complied. Thenceforth, all dayShe wove the ample web, and by the aidOf torches ravell’d it again at night.Three years by such contrivance she deceived140The Greecians; but when (three whole years elaps’d)The fourth arriv’d, then, conscious of the fraud,A damsel of her train told all the truth,And her we found rav’ling the beauteous work.Thus, through necessity she hath, at length,Perform’d the task, and in her own despight.Now therefore, for the information clearOf thee thyself, and of the other Greeks,We answer. Send thy mother hence, with chargeThat him she wed on whom her father’s choice150Shall fall, and whom she shall, herself, approve.But if by long procrastination stillShe persevere wearing our patience out,Attentive only to display the giftsBy Pallas so profusely dealt to her,Works of surpassing skill, ingenious thought,And subtle shifts, such as no beauteous Greek(For aught that we have heard) in antient timesE’er practised, Tyro, or Alcemena fair,Or fair Mycene, of whom none in art160E’er match’d Penelope, although we yieldTo this her last invention little praise,Then know, that these her suitors will consumeSo long thy patrimony and thy goods,As she her present purpose shall indulge,With which the Gods inspire her. Great renownShe to herself insures, but equal woeAnd devastation of thy wealth to thee;For neither to our proper works at homeGo we, of that be sure, nor yet elsewhere,170Till him she wed, to whom she most inclines.Him prudent, then, answer’d Telemachus.Antinoüs! it is not possibleThat I should thrust her forth against her will,Who both produced and reared me. Be he dead,Or still alive, my Sire is far remote,And should I, voluntary, hence dismissMy mother to Icarius, I must muchRefund, which hardship were and loss to me.So doing, I should also wrath incur180From my offended Sire, and from the GodsStill more; for she, departing, would invokeErynnis to avenge her, and reproachBeside would follow me from all mankind.That word I, therefore, never will pronounce.No, if ye judge your treatment at her handsInjurious to you, go ye forth yourselves,Forsake my mansion; seek where else ye mayYour feasts; consume your own; alternate feedEach at the other’s cost. But if it seem190Wisest in your account and best to eatVoracious thus the patrimonial goodsOf one man, rend’ring no account of all,Bite to the roots; but know that I will cryCeaseless to the eternal Gods, in hopeThat Jove, in retribution of the wrong,Shall doom you, where ye have intruded, thereTo bleed, and of your blood ask no account.So spake Telemachus, and while he spake,The Thund’rer from a lofty mountain-top200Turn’d off two eagles; on the winds, awhile,With outspread pinions ample side by sideThey floated; but, ere long, hov’ring aloft,Right o’er the midst of the assembled ChiefsThey wheel’d around, clang’d all their num’rous plumes,And with a downward look eyeing the throng,Death boded, ominous; then rending eachThe other’s face and neck, they sprang at onceToward the right, and darted through the town.Amazement universal, at that sight,210Seized the assembly, and with anxious thoughtEach scann’d the future; amidst whom aroseThe Hero Halitherses, antient Seer,Offspring of Mastor; for in judgment heOf portents augural, and in forecastUnerring, his coevals all excell’d,And prudent thus the multitude bespake.Ye men of Ithaca, give ear! hear all!Though chief my speech shall to the suitors look,For, on their heads devolved, comes down the woe.220Ulysses shall not from his friends, henceforth,Live absent long, but, hasting to his home,Comes even now, and as he comes, designsA bloody death for these, whose bitter woesNo few shall share, inhabitants with usOf pleasant Ithaca; but let us frameEffectual means maturely to suppressTheir violent deeds, or rather let themselvesRepentant cease; and soonest shall be best.Not inexpert, but well-inform’d I speak230The future, and the accomplishment announceOf all which when Ulysses with the GreeksEmbark’d for Troy, I to himself foretold.I said that, after many woes, and lossOf all his people, in the twentieth year,Unknown to all, he should regain his home,And my prediction shall be now fulfill’d.Him, then, Eurymachus thus answer’d roughThe son of Polybus. Hence to thy house,Thou hoary dotard! there, prophetic, teach240Thy children to escape woes else to come.Birds num’rous flutter in the beams of day,Not all predictive. Death, far hence remoteHath found Ulysses, and I would to heav’nThat, where he died, thyself had perish’d too.Thou hadst not then run o’er with prophecyAs now, nor provocation to the wrathGiv’n of Telemachus, in hope to win,Perchance, for thine some favour at his hands.But I totheeforetell, skilled as thou art250In legends old, (nor shall my threat be vain)That if by artifice thou move to wrathA younger than thyself, no matter whom,Woe first the heavier on himself shall fall,Nor shalt thou profit him by thy attempt,And we will charge thee also with a mulct,Which thou shalt pay with difficulty, and bearThe burthen of it with an aching heart.As for Telemachus, I him advise,Myself, and press the measure on his choice260Earnestly, that he send his mother henceTo her own father’s house, who shall, himself,Set forth her nuptial rites, and shall endowHis daughter sumptuously, and as he ought.For this expensive wooing, as I judge,Till then shall never cease; since we regardNo man—no—not Telemachus, althoughIn words exub’rant; neither fear we aughtThy vain prognostics, venerable sir!But only hate thee for their sake the more.270Waste will continue and disorder foulUnremedied, so long as she shall holdThe suitors in suspense, for, day by day,Our emulation goads us to the strife,Nor shall we, going hence, seek to espouseEach his own comfort suitable elsewhere.To whom, discrete, Telemachus replied.Eurymachus, and ye the suitor trainIllustrious, I have spoken: ye shall hearNo more this supplication urged by me.280The Gods, and all the Greeks, now know the truth.But give me instantly a gallant barkWith twenty rowers, skill’d their course to winTo whatsoever haven; for I goTo sandy Pylus, and shall hasten thenceTo Lacedemon, tidings to obtainOf my long-absent Sire, or from the lipsOf man, or by a word from Jove vouchsafedHimself, best source of notice to mankind.If, there inform’d that still my father lives,290I hope conceive of his return, althoughDistress’d, I shall be patient yet a year.But should I learn, haply, that he survivesNo longer, then, returning, I will raiseAt home his tomb, will with such pomp performHis fun’ral rites, as his great name demands,And give my mother’s hand to whom I may.This said, he sat, and after him aroseMentor, illustrious Ulysses’ friend,To whom, embarking thence, he had consign’d300All his concerns, that the old Chief might ruleHis family, and keep the whole secure.Arising, thus the senior, sage, began.Hear me, ye Ithacans! be never KingHenceforth, benevolent, gracious, humaneOr righteous, but let every sceptred handRule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,Since none of all his people, whom he sway’dWith such paternal gentleness and love,Remembers the divine Ulysses more!310That the imperious suitors thus should weaveThe web of mischief and atrocious wrong,I grudge not; since at hazard of their headsThey make Ulysses’ property a prey,Persuaded that the Hero comes no more.But much the people move me; how ye sitAll mute, and though a multitude, yourselves,Opposed to few, risque not a single wordTo check the license of these bold intruders!Then thus Liocritus, Evenor’s son.320Injurious Mentor! headlong orator!How dar’st thou move the populace againstThe suitors? Trust me they should find it hard,Numerous as they are, to cope with us,A feast the prize. Or should the King himselfOf Ithaca, returning, undertakeT’ expell the jovial suitors from his house,Much as Penelope his absence mourns,His presence should afford her little joy;For fighting sole with many, he should meet330A dreadful death. Thou, therefore, speak’st amiss.As for Telemachus, let Mentor himAnd Halytherses furnish forth, the friendsLong valued of his Sire, with all dispatch;Though him I judge far likelier to remainLong-time contented an enquirer here,Than to perform the voyage now proposed.Thus saying, Liocritus dissolved in hasteThe council, and the scattered concourse soughtTheir sev’ral homes, while all the suitors flock’d340Thence to the palace of their absent King.Meantime, Telemachus from all resortRetiring, in the surf of the gray DeepFirst laved his hands, then, thus to Pallas pray’d.O Goddess! who wast yesterday a guestBeneath my roof, and didst enjoin me thenA voyage o’er the sable Deep in questOf tidings of my long regretted Sire!Which voyage, all in Ithaca, but mostThe haughty suitors, obstinate impede,350Now hear my suit and gracious interpose!Such pray’r he made; then Pallas, in the form,And with the voice of Mentor, drawing nigh,In accents wing’d, him kindly thus bespake.Telemachus! thou shalt hereafter proveNor base, nor poor in talents. If, in truth,Thou have received from heav’n thy father’s forceInstill’d into thee, and resemblest himIn promptness both of action and of speech,Thy voyage shall not useless be, or vain.360But if Penelope produced thee notHis son, I, then, hope not for good effectOf this design which, ardent, thou pursuest.Few sons their fathers equal; most appearDegenerate; but we find, though rare, sometimesA son superior even to his Sire.And since thyself shalt neither base be foundNor spiritless, nor altogether voidOf talents, such as grace thy royal Sire,I therefore hope success of thy attempt.370Heed not the suitors’ projects; neither wiseAre they, nor just, nor aught suspect the doomWhich now approaches them, and in one dayShall overwhelm them all. No long suspenseShall hold thy purposed enterprise in doubt,Such help from me, of old thy father’s friend,Thou shalt receive, who with a bark well-oar’dWill serve thee, and myself attend thee forth.But haste, join thou the suitors, and provide,In sep’rate vessels stow’d, all needful stores,380Wine in thy jars, and flour, the strength of man,In skins close-seam’d. I will, meantime, selectSuch as shall voluntary share thy toils.In sea-girt Ithaca new ships and oldAbound, and I will chuse, myself, for theeThe prime of all, which without more delayWe will launch out into the spacious Deep.Thus Pallas spake, daughter of Jove; nor long,So greeted by the voice divine, remain’dTelemachus, but to his palace went390Distress’d in heart. He found the suitors thereGoats slaying in the hall, and fatted swineRoasting; when with a laugh Antinoüs flewTo meet him, fasten’d on his hand, and said,Telemachus, in eloquence sublime,And of a spirit not to be controul’d!Give harbour in thy breast on no accountTo after-grudge or enmity, but eat,Far rather, cheerfully as heretofore,And freely drink, committing all thy cares400To the Achaians, who shall furnish forthA gallant ship and chosen crew for thee,That thou may’st hence to Pylus with all speed,Tidings to learn of thy illustrious Sire.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Antinoüs! I have no heart to feastWith guests so insolent, nor can indulgeThe pleasures of a mind at ease, with you.Is’t not enough, suitors, that ye have usedMy noble patrimony as your own410While I was yet a child? now, grown mature,And competent to understand the speechOf my instructors, feeling, too, a mindWithin me conscious of augmented pow’rs,I will attempt your ruin, be assured,Whether at Pylus, or continuing here.I go, indeed, (nor shall my voyage proveOf which I speak, bootless or vain) I goAn humble passenger, who neither barkNor rowers have to boast my own, denied420That honour (so ye judg’d it best) by you.He said, and from Antinoüs’ hand his ownDrew sudden. Then their delicate repastThe busy suitors on all sides prepar’d,Still taunting as they toil’d, and with sharp speechSarcastic wantoning, of whom a youth,Arrogant as his fellows, thus began.I see it plain, Telemachus intendsOur slaughter; either he will aids procureFrom sandy Pylus, or will bring them arm’d430From Sparta; such is his tremendous drift.Even to fruitful Ephyre, perchance,He will proceed, seeking some baneful herbWhich cast into our cup, shall drug us all.To whom some haughty suitor thus replied.Who knows but that himself, wand’ring the seaFrom all his friends and kindred far remote,May perish like Ulysses? Whence to usShould double toil ensue, on whom the chargeTo parcel out his wealth would then devolve,440And to endow his mother with the houseFor his abode whom she should chance to wed.So sported they; but he, ascending soughtHis father’s lofty chamber, where his heapsHe kept of brass and gold, garments in chests,And oils of fragrant scent, a copious store.There many a cask with season’d nectar fill’dThe grape’s pure juice divine, beside the wallStood orderly arranged, waiting the hour(Should e’er such hour arrive) when, after woes450Num’rous, Ulysses should regain his home.Secure that chamber was with folding doorsOf massy planks compact, and night and day,Within it antient Euryclea dwelt,Guardian discrete of all the treasures there,Whom, thither call’d, Telemachus address’d.Nurse! draw me forth sweet wine into my jars,Delicious next to that which thou reserv’stFor our poor wand’rer; if escaping deathAt last, divine Ulysses e’er return.460Fill twelve, and stop them close; pour also mealWell mill’d (full twenty measures) into skinsClose-seam’d, and mention what thou dost to none.Place them together; for at even-tideI will convey them hence, soon as the Queen,Retiring to her couch, shall seek repose.For hence to Sparta will I take my course,And sandy Pylus, tidings there to hear(If hear I may) of my lov’d Sire’s return.He ceas’d, then wept his gentle nurse that sound470Hearing, and in wing’d accents thus replied.My child! ah, wherefore hath a thought so rashPossess’d thee? whither, only and belov’d,Seek’st thou to ramble, travelling, alas!To distant climes? Ulysses is no more;Dead lies the Hero in some land unknown,And thou no sooner shalt depart, than theseWill plot to slay thee, and divide thy wealth.No, stay with us who love thee. Need is noneThat thou should’st on the barren Deep distress480Encounter, roaming without hope or end.Whom, prudent, thus answer’d Telemachus.Take courage, nurse! for not without consentOf the Immortals I have thus resolv’d.But swear, that till eleven days be past,Or twelve, or, till enquiry made, she learnHerself my going, thou wilt not impartOf this my purpose to my mother’s ear,Lest all her beauties fade by grief impair’d.He ended, and the antient matron swore490Solemnly by the Gods; which done, she fill’dWith wine the vessels and the skins with meal,And he, returning, join’d the throng below.Then Pallas, Goddess azure-eyed, her thoughtsElsewhere directing, all the city rangedIn semblance of Telemachus, each manExhorting, at the dusk of eve, to seekThe gallant ship, and from Noëmon, sonRenown’d of Phronius, ask’d, herself, a bark,Which soon as ask’d, he promis’d to supply.500Now set the sun, and twilight dimm’d the ways,When, drawing down his bark into the Deep,He gave her all her furniture, oars, armsAnd tackle, such as well-built galleys bear,Then moor’d her in the bottom of the bay.Meantime, his mariners in haste repair’dDown to the shore, for Pallas urged them on.And now on other purposes intent,The Goddess sought the palace, where with dewsOf slumber drenching ev’ry suitor’s eye,510She fool’d the drunkard multitude, and dash’dThe goblets from their idle hands away.They through the city reeled, happy to leaveThe dull carousal, when the slumb’rous weightOppressive on their eye-lids once had fall’n.Next, Pallas azure-eyed in Mentor’s formAnd with the voice of Mentor, summoningTelemachus abroad, him thus bespake.Telemachus! already at their oarsSit all thy fellow-voyagers, and wait520Thy coming; linger not, but haste away.This said, Minerva led him thence, whom heWith nimble steps follow’d, and on the shoreArrived, found all his mariners prepared,Whom thus the princely voyager address’d.Haste, my companions! bring we down the storesAlready sorted and set forth; but noughtMy mother knows, or any of her trainOf this design, one matron sole except.He spake, and led them; they, obedient, brought530All down, and, as Ulysses’ son enjoin’d,Within the gallant bark the charge bestow’d.Then, led by Pallas, went the prince on board,Where down they sat, the Goddess in the stern,And at her side Telemachus. The crewCast loose the hawsers, and embarking, fill’dThe benches. Blue-eyed Pallas from the WestCall’d forth propitious breezes; fresh they curledThe sable Deep, and, sounding, swept the waves.He loud-exhorting them, his people bade540Hand, brisk, the tackle; they, obedient, rearedThe pine-tree mast, which in its socket deepThey lodg’d, then strain’d the cordage, and with thongsWell-twisted, drew the shining sail aloft.A land-breeze fill’d the canvas, and the floodRoar’d as she went against the steady barkThat ran with even course her liquid way.The rigging, thus, of all the galley set,Their beakers crowning high with wine, they hail’dThe ever-living Gods, but above all550Minerva, daughter azure-eyed of Jove.Thus, all night long the galley, and till dawnHad brighten’d into day, cleaved swift the flood.
Aurora, rosy daughter of the dawn,Now ting’d the East, when habited again,Uprose Ulysses’ offspring from his bed.Athwart his back his faulchion keen he flung,His sandals bound to his unsullied feet,And, godlike, issued from his chamber-door.At once the clear-voic’d heralds he enjoin’dTo call the Greeks to council; they aloudGave forth the summons, and the throng began.When all were gather’d, and the assembly full,10Himself, his hand arm’d with a brazen spear,Went also; nor alone he went; his houndsFleet-footed follow’d him, a faithful pair.O’er all his form Minerva largely shedMajestic grace divine, and, as he went,The whole admiring concourse gaz’d on him,The seniors gave him place, and down he satOn his paternal Throne. Then grave aroseThe Hero, old Ægyptius; bow’d with ageWas he, and by experience deep-inform’d.20His son had with Ulysses, godlike Chief,On board his fleet to steed-fam’d Ilium gone,The warrior Antiphus, whom in his caveThe savage Cyclops slew, and on his fleshAt ev’ning made obscene his last regale.Three sons he had beside, a suitor one,Eurynomus; the other two, employFound constant managing their Sire’s concerns.Yet he forgat not, father as he wasOf these, his absent eldest, whom he mourn’d30Ceaseless, and thus his speech, weeping, began.Hear me, ye men of Ithaca, my friends!Nor council here nor session hath been heldSince great Ulysses left his native shore.Who now convenes us? what especial needHath urged him, whether of our youth he be,Or of our senators by age matured?Have tidings reach’d him of our host’s return,Which here he would divulge? or brings he aughtOf public import on a diff’rent theme?40I deem him, whosoe’er he be, a manWorthy to prosper, and may Jove vouchsafeThe full performance of his chief desire!He ended, and Telemachus rejoicedIn that good omen. Ardent to begin,He sat not long, but, moving to the midst,Received the sceptre from Pisenor’s hand,His prudent herald, and addressing, next,The hoary Chief Ægyptius, thus began.Not far remote, as thou shalt soon thyself50Perceive, oh venerable Chief! he stands,Who hath convened this council. I, am He.I am in chief the suff’rer. Tidings noneOf the returning host I have received,Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aughtOf public import on a different theme,But my own trouble, on my own house fall’n,And two-fold fall’n. One is, that I have lostA noble father, who, as fathers ruleBenign their children, govern’d once yourselves;60The other, and the more alarming ill,With ruin threatens my whole house, and allMy patrimony with immediate waste.Suitors, (their children who in this our isleHold highest rank) importunate besiegeMy mother, though desirous not to wed,And rather than resort to her own SireIcarius, who might give his daughter dow’r,And portion her to whom he most approves,(A course which, only named, moves their disgust)70They chuse, assembling all within my gatesDaily to make my beeves, my sheep, my goatsTheir banquet, and to drink without restraintMy wine; whence ruin threatens us and ours;For I have no Ulysses to relieveMe and my family from this abuse.Ourselves are not sufficient; we, alas!Too feeble should be found, and yet to learnHow best to use the little force we own;Else, had I pow’r, I would, myself, redress80The evil; for it now surpasses farAll suff’rance, now they ravage uncontroul’d,Nor show of decency vouchsafe me more.Oh be ashamed6yourselves; blush at the thoughtOf such reproach as ye shall sure incurFrom all our neighbour states, and fear besideThe wrath of the Immortals, lest they callYourselves one day to a severe account.I pray you by Olympian Jove, by herWhose voice convenes all councils, and again90Dissolves them, Themis, that henceforth ye cease,That ye permit me, oh my friends! to wearMy days in solitary grief away,Unless Ulysses, my illustrious Sire,Hath in his anger any Greecian wrong’d,Whose wrongs ye purpose to avenge on me,Inciting these to plague me. Better farWere my condition, if yourselves consumedMy substance and my revenue; from youI might obtain, perchance, righteous amends100Hereafter; you I might with vehement suitO’ercome, from house to house pleading aloudFor recompense, till I at last prevail’d.But now, with darts of anguish ye transfixMy inmost soul, and I have no redress.He spake impassion’d, and to earth cast downHis sceptre, weeping. Pity at that sightSeiz’d all the people; mute the assembly satLong time, none dared to greet TelemachusWith answer rough, till of them all, at last,110Antinoüs, sole arising, thus replied.Telemachus, intemp’rate in harangue,High-sounding orator! it is thy driftTo make us all odious; but the offenceLies not with us the suitors; she aloneThy mother, who in subtlety excels,And deep-wrought subterfuge, deserves the blame.It is already the third year, and soonShall be the fourth, since with delusive artPractising on their minds, she hath deceived120The Greecians; message after message sentBrings hope to each, by turns, and promise fair,But she, meantime, far otherwise intends.Her other arts exhausted all, she framedThis stratagem; a web of amplest sizeAnd subtlest woof beginning, thus she spake.Princes, my suitors! since the noble ChiefUlysses is no more, press not as yetMy nuptials, wait till I shall finish, first,A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads decay)130Which for the antient Hero I prepare,Laertes, looking for the mournful hourWhen fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;Else I the censure dread of all my sex,Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud.So spake the Queen, and unsuspicious, weWith her request complied. Thenceforth, all dayShe wove the ample web, and by the aidOf torches ravell’d it again at night.Three years by such contrivance she deceived140The Greecians; but when (three whole years elaps’d)The fourth arriv’d, then, conscious of the fraud,A damsel of her train told all the truth,And her we found rav’ling the beauteous work.Thus, through necessity she hath, at length,Perform’d the task, and in her own despight.Now therefore, for the information clearOf thee thyself, and of the other Greeks,We answer. Send thy mother hence, with chargeThat him she wed on whom her father’s choice150Shall fall, and whom she shall, herself, approve.But if by long procrastination stillShe persevere wearing our patience out,Attentive only to display the giftsBy Pallas so profusely dealt to her,Works of surpassing skill, ingenious thought,And subtle shifts, such as no beauteous Greek(For aught that we have heard) in antient timesE’er practised, Tyro, or Alcemena fair,Or fair Mycene, of whom none in art160E’er match’d Penelope, although we yieldTo this her last invention little praise,Then know, that these her suitors will consumeSo long thy patrimony and thy goods,As she her present purpose shall indulge,With which the Gods inspire her. Great renownShe to herself insures, but equal woeAnd devastation of thy wealth to thee;For neither to our proper works at homeGo we, of that be sure, nor yet elsewhere,170Till him she wed, to whom she most inclines.Him prudent, then, answer’d Telemachus.Antinoüs! it is not possibleThat I should thrust her forth against her will,Who both produced and reared me. Be he dead,Or still alive, my Sire is far remote,And should I, voluntary, hence dismissMy mother to Icarius, I must muchRefund, which hardship were and loss to me.So doing, I should also wrath incur180From my offended Sire, and from the GodsStill more; for she, departing, would invokeErynnis to avenge her, and reproachBeside would follow me from all mankind.That word I, therefore, never will pronounce.No, if ye judge your treatment at her handsInjurious to you, go ye forth yourselves,Forsake my mansion; seek where else ye mayYour feasts; consume your own; alternate feedEach at the other’s cost. But if it seem190Wisest in your account and best to eatVoracious thus the patrimonial goodsOf one man, rend’ring no account of all,Bite to the roots; but know that I will cryCeaseless to the eternal Gods, in hopeThat Jove, in retribution of the wrong,Shall doom you, where ye have intruded, thereTo bleed, and of your blood ask no account.So spake Telemachus, and while he spake,The Thund’rer from a lofty mountain-top200Turn’d off two eagles; on the winds, awhile,With outspread pinions ample side by sideThey floated; but, ere long, hov’ring aloft,Right o’er the midst of the assembled ChiefsThey wheel’d around, clang’d all their num’rous plumes,And with a downward look eyeing the throng,Death boded, ominous; then rending eachThe other’s face and neck, they sprang at onceToward the right, and darted through the town.Amazement universal, at that sight,210Seized the assembly, and with anxious thoughtEach scann’d the future; amidst whom aroseThe Hero Halitherses, antient Seer,Offspring of Mastor; for in judgment heOf portents augural, and in forecastUnerring, his coevals all excell’d,And prudent thus the multitude bespake.Ye men of Ithaca, give ear! hear all!Though chief my speech shall to the suitors look,For, on their heads devolved, comes down the woe.220Ulysses shall not from his friends, henceforth,Live absent long, but, hasting to his home,Comes even now, and as he comes, designsA bloody death for these, whose bitter woesNo few shall share, inhabitants with usOf pleasant Ithaca; but let us frameEffectual means maturely to suppressTheir violent deeds, or rather let themselvesRepentant cease; and soonest shall be best.Not inexpert, but well-inform’d I speak230The future, and the accomplishment announceOf all which when Ulysses with the GreeksEmbark’d for Troy, I to himself foretold.I said that, after many woes, and lossOf all his people, in the twentieth year,Unknown to all, he should regain his home,And my prediction shall be now fulfill’d.Him, then, Eurymachus thus answer’d roughThe son of Polybus. Hence to thy house,Thou hoary dotard! there, prophetic, teach240Thy children to escape woes else to come.Birds num’rous flutter in the beams of day,Not all predictive. Death, far hence remoteHath found Ulysses, and I would to heav’nThat, where he died, thyself had perish’d too.Thou hadst not then run o’er with prophecyAs now, nor provocation to the wrathGiv’n of Telemachus, in hope to win,Perchance, for thine some favour at his hands.But I totheeforetell, skilled as thou art250In legends old, (nor shall my threat be vain)That if by artifice thou move to wrathA younger than thyself, no matter whom,Woe first the heavier on himself shall fall,Nor shalt thou profit him by thy attempt,And we will charge thee also with a mulct,Which thou shalt pay with difficulty, and bearThe burthen of it with an aching heart.As for Telemachus, I him advise,Myself, and press the measure on his choice260Earnestly, that he send his mother henceTo her own father’s house, who shall, himself,Set forth her nuptial rites, and shall endowHis daughter sumptuously, and as he ought.For this expensive wooing, as I judge,Till then shall never cease; since we regardNo man—no—not Telemachus, althoughIn words exub’rant; neither fear we aughtThy vain prognostics, venerable sir!But only hate thee for their sake the more.270Waste will continue and disorder foulUnremedied, so long as she shall holdThe suitors in suspense, for, day by day,Our emulation goads us to the strife,Nor shall we, going hence, seek to espouseEach his own comfort suitable elsewhere.To whom, discrete, Telemachus replied.Eurymachus, and ye the suitor trainIllustrious, I have spoken: ye shall hearNo more this supplication urged by me.280The Gods, and all the Greeks, now know the truth.But give me instantly a gallant barkWith twenty rowers, skill’d their course to winTo whatsoever haven; for I goTo sandy Pylus, and shall hasten thenceTo Lacedemon, tidings to obtainOf my long-absent Sire, or from the lipsOf man, or by a word from Jove vouchsafedHimself, best source of notice to mankind.If, there inform’d that still my father lives,290I hope conceive of his return, althoughDistress’d, I shall be patient yet a year.But should I learn, haply, that he survivesNo longer, then, returning, I will raiseAt home his tomb, will with such pomp performHis fun’ral rites, as his great name demands,And give my mother’s hand to whom I may.This said, he sat, and after him aroseMentor, illustrious Ulysses’ friend,To whom, embarking thence, he had consign’d300All his concerns, that the old Chief might ruleHis family, and keep the whole secure.Arising, thus the senior, sage, began.Hear me, ye Ithacans! be never KingHenceforth, benevolent, gracious, humaneOr righteous, but let every sceptred handRule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,Since none of all his people, whom he sway’dWith such paternal gentleness and love,Remembers the divine Ulysses more!310That the imperious suitors thus should weaveThe web of mischief and atrocious wrong,I grudge not; since at hazard of their headsThey make Ulysses’ property a prey,Persuaded that the Hero comes no more.But much the people move me; how ye sitAll mute, and though a multitude, yourselves,Opposed to few, risque not a single wordTo check the license of these bold intruders!Then thus Liocritus, Evenor’s son.320Injurious Mentor! headlong orator!How dar’st thou move the populace againstThe suitors? Trust me they should find it hard,Numerous as they are, to cope with us,A feast the prize. Or should the King himselfOf Ithaca, returning, undertakeT’ expell the jovial suitors from his house,Much as Penelope his absence mourns,His presence should afford her little joy;For fighting sole with many, he should meet330A dreadful death. Thou, therefore, speak’st amiss.As for Telemachus, let Mentor himAnd Halytherses furnish forth, the friendsLong valued of his Sire, with all dispatch;Though him I judge far likelier to remainLong-time contented an enquirer here,Than to perform the voyage now proposed.Thus saying, Liocritus dissolved in hasteThe council, and the scattered concourse soughtTheir sev’ral homes, while all the suitors flock’d340Thence to the palace of their absent King.Meantime, Telemachus from all resortRetiring, in the surf of the gray DeepFirst laved his hands, then, thus to Pallas pray’d.O Goddess! who wast yesterday a guestBeneath my roof, and didst enjoin me thenA voyage o’er the sable Deep in questOf tidings of my long regretted Sire!Which voyage, all in Ithaca, but mostThe haughty suitors, obstinate impede,350Now hear my suit and gracious interpose!Such pray’r he made; then Pallas, in the form,And with the voice of Mentor, drawing nigh,In accents wing’d, him kindly thus bespake.Telemachus! thou shalt hereafter proveNor base, nor poor in talents. If, in truth,Thou have received from heav’n thy father’s forceInstill’d into thee, and resemblest himIn promptness both of action and of speech,Thy voyage shall not useless be, or vain.360But if Penelope produced thee notHis son, I, then, hope not for good effectOf this design which, ardent, thou pursuest.Few sons their fathers equal; most appearDegenerate; but we find, though rare, sometimesA son superior even to his Sire.And since thyself shalt neither base be foundNor spiritless, nor altogether voidOf talents, such as grace thy royal Sire,I therefore hope success of thy attempt.370Heed not the suitors’ projects; neither wiseAre they, nor just, nor aught suspect the doomWhich now approaches them, and in one dayShall overwhelm them all. No long suspenseShall hold thy purposed enterprise in doubt,Such help from me, of old thy father’s friend,Thou shalt receive, who with a bark well-oar’dWill serve thee, and myself attend thee forth.But haste, join thou the suitors, and provide,In sep’rate vessels stow’d, all needful stores,380Wine in thy jars, and flour, the strength of man,In skins close-seam’d. I will, meantime, selectSuch as shall voluntary share thy toils.In sea-girt Ithaca new ships and oldAbound, and I will chuse, myself, for theeThe prime of all, which without more delayWe will launch out into the spacious Deep.Thus Pallas spake, daughter of Jove; nor long,So greeted by the voice divine, remain’dTelemachus, but to his palace went390Distress’d in heart. He found the suitors thereGoats slaying in the hall, and fatted swineRoasting; when with a laugh Antinoüs flewTo meet him, fasten’d on his hand, and said,Telemachus, in eloquence sublime,And of a spirit not to be controul’d!Give harbour in thy breast on no accountTo after-grudge or enmity, but eat,Far rather, cheerfully as heretofore,And freely drink, committing all thy cares400To the Achaians, who shall furnish forthA gallant ship and chosen crew for thee,That thou may’st hence to Pylus with all speed,Tidings to learn of thy illustrious Sire.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Antinoüs! I have no heart to feastWith guests so insolent, nor can indulgeThe pleasures of a mind at ease, with you.Is’t not enough, suitors, that ye have usedMy noble patrimony as your own410While I was yet a child? now, grown mature,And competent to understand the speechOf my instructors, feeling, too, a mindWithin me conscious of augmented pow’rs,I will attempt your ruin, be assured,Whether at Pylus, or continuing here.I go, indeed, (nor shall my voyage proveOf which I speak, bootless or vain) I goAn humble passenger, who neither barkNor rowers have to boast my own, denied420That honour (so ye judg’d it best) by you.He said, and from Antinoüs’ hand his ownDrew sudden. Then their delicate repastThe busy suitors on all sides prepar’d,Still taunting as they toil’d, and with sharp speechSarcastic wantoning, of whom a youth,Arrogant as his fellows, thus began.I see it plain, Telemachus intendsOur slaughter; either he will aids procureFrom sandy Pylus, or will bring them arm’d430From Sparta; such is his tremendous drift.Even to fruitful Ephyre, perchance,He will proceed, seeking some baneful herbWhich cast into our cup, shall drug us all.To whom some haughty suitor thus replied.Who knows but that himself, wand’ring the seaFrom all his friends and kindred far remote,May perish like Ulysses? Whence to usShould double toil ensue, on whom the chargeTo parcel out his wealth would then devolve,440And to endow his mother with the houseFor his abode whom she should chance to wed.So sported they; but he, ascending soughtHis father’s lofty chamber, where his heapsHe kept of brass and gold, garments in chests,And oils of fragrant scent, a copious store.There many a cask with season’d nectar fill’dThe grape’s pure juice divine, beside the wallStood orderly arranged, waiting the hour(Should e’er such hour arrive) when, after woes450Num’rous, Ulysses should regain his home.Secure that chamber was with folding doorsOf massy planks compact, and night and day,Within it antient Euryclea dwelt,Guardian discrete of all the treasures there,Whom, thither call’d, Telemachus address’d.Nurse! draw me forth sweet wine into my jars,Delicious next to that which thou reserv’stFor our poor wand’rer; if escaping deathAt last, divine Ulysses e’er return.460Fill twelve, and stop them close; pour also mealWell mill’d (full twenty measures) into skinsClose-seam’d, and mention what thou dost to none.Place them together; for at even-tideI will convey them hence, soon as the Queen,Retiring to her couch, shall seek repose.For hence to Sparta will I take my course,And sandy Pylus, tidings there to hear(If hear I may) of my lov’d Sire’s return.He ceas’d, then wept his gentle nurse that sound470Hearing, and in wing’d accents thus replied.My child! ah, wherefore hath a thought so rashPossess’d thee? whither, only and belov’d,Seek’st thou to ramble, travelling, alas!To distant climes? Ulysses is no more;Dead lies the Hero in some land unknown,And thou no sooner shalt depart, than theseWill plot to slay thee, and divide thy wealth.No, stay with us who love thee. Need is noneThat thou should’st on the barren Deep distress480Encounter, roaming without hope or end.Whom, prudent, thus answer’d Telemachus.Take courage, nurse! for not without consentOf the Immortals I have thus resolv’d.But swear, that till eleven days be past,Or twelve, or, till enquiry made, she learnHerself my going, thou wilt not impartOf this my purpose to my mother’s ear,Lest all her beauties fade by grief impair’d.He ended, and the antient matron swore490Solemnly by the Gods; which done, she fill’dWith wine the vessels and the skins with meal,And he, returning, join’d the throng below.Then Pallas, Goddess azure-eyed, her thoughtsElsewhere directing, all the city rangedIn semblance of Telemachus, each manExhorting, at the dusk of eve, to seekThe gallant ship, and from Noëmon, sonRenown’d of Phronius, ask’d, herself, a bark,Which soon as ask’d, he promis’d to supply.500Now set the sun, and twilight dimm’d the ways,When, drawing down his bark into the Deep,He gave her all her furniture, oars, armsAnd tackle, such as well-built galleys bear,Then moor’d her in the bottom of the bay.Meantime, his mariners in haste repair’dDown to the shore, for Pallas urged them on.And now on other purposes intent,The Goddess sought the palace, where with dewsOf slumber drenching ev’ry suitor’s eye,510She fool’d the drunkard multitude, and dash’dThe goblets from their idle hands away.They through the city reeled, happy to leaveThe dull carousal, when the slumb’rous weightOppressive on their eye-lids once had fall’n.Next, Pallas azure-eyed in Mentor’s formAnd with the voice of Mentor, summoningTelemachus abroad, him thus bespake.Telemachus! already at their oarsSit all thy fellow-voyagers, and wait520Thy coming; linger not, but haste away.This said, Minerva led him thence, whom heWith nimble steps follow’d, and on the shoreArrived, found all his mariners prepared,Whom thus the princely voyager address’d.Haste, my companions! bring we down the storesAlready sorted and set forth; but noughtMy mother knows, or any of her trainOf this design, one matron sole except.He spake, and led them; they, obedient, brought530All down, and, as Ulysses’ son enjoin’d,Within the gallant bark the charge bestow’d.Then, led by Pallas, went the prince on board,Where down they sat, the Goddess in the stern,And at her side Telemachus. The crewCast loose the hawsers, and embarking, fill’dThe benches. Blue-eyed Pallas from the WestCall’d forth propitious breezes; fresh they curledThe sable Deep, and, sounding, swept the waves.He loud-exhorting them, his people bade540Hand, brisk, the tackle; they, obedient, rearedThe pine-tree mast, which in its socket deepThey lodg’d, then strain’d the cordage, and with thongsWell-twisted, drew the shining sail aloft.A land-breeze fill’d the canvas, and the floodRoar’d as she went against the steady barkThat ran with even course her liquid way.The rigging, thus, of all the galley set,Their beakers crowning high with wine, they hail’dThe ever-living Gods, but above all550Minerva, daughter azure-eyed of Jove.Thus, all night long the galley, and till dawnHad brighten’d into day, cleaved swift the flood.
6The reader is to be reminded that this is not an assembly of the suitors only, but a general one, which affords Telemachus an opportunity to apply himself to the feelings of the Ithacans at large.
6The reader is to be reminded that this is not an assembly of the suitors only, but a general one, which affords Telemachus an opportunity to apply himself to the feelings of the Ithacans at large.
6The reader is to be reminded that this is not an assembly of the suitors only, but a general one, which affords Telemachus an opportunity to apply himself to the feelings of the Ithacans at large.