BOOK XIIIARGUMENTUlysses, having finished his narrative, and received additional presents from the Phæacians, embarks; he is conveyed in his sleep to Ithaca, and in his sleep is landed on that island. The ship that carried him is in her return transformed by Neptune to a rock.Minerva meets him on the shore, enables him to recollect his country, which, till enlightened by her, he believed to be a country strange to him, and they concert together the means of destroying the suitors. The Goddess then repairs to Sparta to call thence Telemachus, and Ulysses, by her aid disguised like a beggar, proceeds towards the cottage of Eumæus.He ceas’d; the whole assembly silent sat,Charm’d into ecstacy with his discourseThroughout the twilight hall. Then, thus the King.Ulysses, since beneath my brazen domeSublime thou hast arrived, like woes, I trust,Thou shalt not in thy voyage hence sustainBy tempests tost, though much to woe inured.To you, who daily in my presence quaffYour princely meed of gen’rous wine and hearThe sacred bard, my pleasure, thus I speak.10The robes, wrought gold, and all the other giftsTo this our guest, by the Phæacian ChiefsBrought hither in the sumptuous coffer lie.But come—present ye to the stranger, each,An ample tripod also, with a vaseOf smaller size, for which we will be paidBy public impost; for the charge of allExcessive were by one alone defray’d.So spake Alcinoüs, and his counsel pleased;Then, all retiring, sought repose at home.20But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,Look’d rosy forth, each hasted to the barkWith his illustrious present, which the mightOf King Alcinoüs, who himself her sidesAscended, safe beneath the seats bestowed,Lest it should harm or hinder, while he toil’dIn rowing, some Phæacian of the crew.The palace of Alcinoüs seeking next,Together, they prepared a new regale.For them, in sacrifice, the sacred might5930Of King Alcinoüs slew an ox to JoveSaturnian, cloud-girt governor of all.The thighs with fire prepared, all glad partookThe noble feast; meantime, the bard divineSang, sweet Demodocus, the people’s joy.But oft Ulysses to the radiant sunTurn’d wistful eyes, anxious for his decline,Nor longer, now, patient of dull delay.As when some hungry swain whose sable beevesHave through the fallow dragg’d his pond’rous plow40All day, the setting sun views with delightFor supper’ sake, which with tir’d feet he seeks,So welcome to Ulysses’ eyes appear’dThe sun-set of that eve; directing, then,His speech to maritime Phæacia’s sons,But to Alcinoüs chiefly, thus he said.Alcinoüs, o’er Phæacia’s realm supreme!Libation made, dismiss ye me in peace,And farewell all! for what I wish’d, I have,Conductors hence, and honourable gifts50With which heav’n prosper me! and may the GodsVouchsafe to me, at my return, to findAll safe, my spotless consort and my friends!May ye, whom here I leave, gladden your wivesAnd see your children blest, and may the pow’rsImmortal with all good enrich you all,And from calamity preserve the land!He ended, they unanimous, his speechApplauded loud, and bade dismiss the guestWho had so wisely spoken and so well.60Then thus Alcinoüs to his herald spake.Pontonoüs! charging high the beaker, bearTo ev’ry guest beneath our roof the wine,That, pray’r preferr’d to the eternal Sire,We may dismiss our inmate to his home.Then, bore Pontonoüs to ev’ry guestThe brimming cup; they, where they sat, perform’dLibation due; but the illustrious ChiefUlysses, from his seat arising, placedA massy goblet in Areta’s hand,70To whom in accents wing’d, grateful, he said.Farewell, O Queen, a long farewell, till ageArrive, and death, the appointed lot of all!I go; but be this people, and the KingAlcinoüs, and thy progeny, thy joyYet many a year beneath this glorious roof!So saying, the Hero through the palace-gateIssued, whom, by Alcinoüs’ command,The royal herald to his vessel led.Three maidens also of Areta’s train80His steps attended; one, the robe well-bleach’dAnd tunic bore; the corded coffer, one;And food the third, with wine of crimson hue.Arriving where the galley rode, each gaveHer charge to some brave mariner on board,And all was safely stow’d. Meantime were spreadLinen and arras on the deck astern,For his secure repose. And now the ChiefHimself embarking, silent lay’d him down.Then, ev’ry rower to his bench repair’d;90They drew the loosen’d cable from its holdIn the drill’d rock, and, resupine, at onceWith lusty strokes upturn’d the flashing waves.Hiseye-lids, soon, sleep, falling as a dew,Closed fast, death’s simular, in sight the same.She, as four harness’d stallions o’er the plainShooting together at the scourge’s stroke,Toss high their manes, and rapid scour along,So mounted she the waves, while dark the floodRoll’d after her of the resounding Deep.100Steady she ran and safe, passing in speedThe falcon, swiftest of the fowls of heav’n;With such rapidity she cut the waves,An hero bearing like the Gods aboveIn wisdom, one familiar long with woeIn fight sustain’d, and on the perilous flood,Though sleeping now serenely, and resign’dTo sweet oblivion of all sorrow past.The brightest star of heav’n, precursor chiefOf day-spring, now arose, when at the isle110(Her voyage soon perform’d) the bark arrived.There is a port sacred in IthacaTo Phorcys, hoary ancient of the Deep,Form’d by converging shores, prominent bothAnd both abrupt, which from the spacious bayExclude all boist’rous winds; within it, ships(The port once gain’d) uncabled ride secure.An olive, at the haven’s head, expandsHer branches wide, near to a pleasant caveUmbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named120The Naiads. In that cave beakers of stoneAnd jars are seen; bees lodge their honey there;And there, on slender spindles of the rockThe nymphs of rivers weave their wond’rous robes.Perennial springs water it, and it showsA twofold entrance; ingress one affordsTo mortal man, which Northward looks direct,But holier is the Southern far; by thatNo mortal enters, but the Gods alone.Familiar with that port before, they push’d130The vessel in; she, rapid, plow’d the sandsWith half her keel, such rowers urged her on.Descending from the well-bench’d bark ashore,They lifted forth Ulysses first, with allHis splendid couch complete, then, lay’d him downStill wrapt in balmy slumber on the sands.His treasures, next, by the Phæacian ChiefsAt his departure given him as the meedDue to his wisdom, at the olive’s footThey heap’d, without the road, lest, while he slept140Some passing traveller should rifle them.Then homeward thence they sped. Nor Ocean’s GodHis threats forgot denounced against divineUlysses, but with Jove thus first advised.Eternal Sire! I shall no longer shareRespect and reverence among the Gods,Since, now, Phæacia’s mortal race have ceas’dTo honour me, though from myself derived.It was my purpose, that by many an illHarass’d, Ulysses should have reach’d his home,150Although to intercept him, whose returnThyself had promis’d, ne’er was my intent.But him fast-sleeping swiftly o’er the wavesThey have conducted, and have set him downIn Ithaca, with countless gifts enrich’d,With brass, and tissued raiment, and with gold;Much treasure! more than he had home convey’dEven had he arrived with all his shareAllotted to him of the spoils of Troy.To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.160What hast thou spoken, Shaker of the shores,Wide-ruling Neptune? Fear not; thee the GodsWill ne’er despise; dangerous were the deedTo cast dishonour on a God by birthMore ancient, and more potent far than they.But if, profanely rash, a mortal manShould dare to slight thee, to avenge the wrongSome future day is ever in thy pow’r.Accomplish all thy pleasure, thou art free.Him answer’d, then, the Shaker of the shores.170Jove cloud-enthroned! that pleasure I would soonPerform, as thou hast said, but that I watchThy mind continual, fearful to offend.My purpose is, now to destroy amidThe dreary Deep yon fair Phæacian bark,Return’d from safe conveyance of her freight;So shall they waft such wand’rers home no more,And she shall hide their city, to a rockTransform’d of mountainous o’ershadowing size.Him, then, Jove answer’d, gath’rer of the clouds.180Perform it, O my brother, and the deedThus done, shall best be done—What time the peopleShall from the city her approach descry,Fix her to stone transform’d, but still in shapeA gallant bark, near to the coast, that allMay wonder, seeing her transform’d to stoneOf size to hide their city from the view.These words once heard, the Shaker of the shoresInstant to Scheria, maritime abodeOf the Phæacians, went. Arrived, he watch’d.190And now the flying bark full near approach’d,When Neptune, meeting her, with out-spread palmDepress’d her at a stroke, and she becameDeep-rooted stone. Then Neptune went his way.Phæacia’s ship-ennobled sons meantimeConferring stood, and thus, in accents wing’d,Th’ amazed spectator to his fellow spake.Ah! who hath sudden check’d the vessel’s courseHomeward? this moment she was all in view.Thus they, unconscious of the cause, to whom200Alcinoüs, instructing them, replied.Ye Gods! a prophecy now strikes my mindWith force, my father’s. He was wont to say—Neptune resents it, that we safe conductNatives of ev’ry region to their home.He also spake, prophetic, of a dayWhen a Phæacian gallant bark, return’dAfter conveyance of a stranger hence,Should perish in the dreary Deep, and changedTo a huge mountain, cover all the town.210So spake my father, all whose words we seeThis day fulfill’d. Thus, therefore, act we allUnanimous; henceforth no longer bearThe stranger home, when such shall here arrive;And we will sacrifice, without delay,Twelve chosen bulls to Neptune, if, perchance,He will commiserate us, and forbearTo hide our town behind a mountain’s height.He spake, they, terrified, the bulls prepared.Thus all Phæacia’s Senators and Chiefs220His altar compassing, in pray’r adoredThe Ocean’s God. Meantime, Ulysses woke,Unconscious where; stretch’d on his native soilHe lay, and knew it not, long-time exiled.For Pallas, progeny of Jove, a cloudDrew dense around him, that, ere yet agnizedBy others, he might wisdom learn from her,Neither to citizens, nor yet to friendsReveal’d, nor even to his own espoused,Till, first, he should avenge complete his wrongs230Domestic from those suitors proud sustained.All objects, therefore, in the Hero’s eyesSeem’d alien, foot-paths long, commodious ports,Heav’n-climbing rocks, and trees of amplest growth.Arising, fixt he stood, his native soilContemplating, till with expanded palmsBoth thighs he smote, and, plaintive, thus began.Ah me! what mortal race inhabits here?Rude are they, contumacious and unjust,Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods?240Where now shall I secrete these num’rous stores?Where wander I, myself? I would that stillPhæacians own’d them, and I had arrivedIn the dominions of some other KingMagnanimous, who would have entertain’dAnd sent me to my native home secure!Now, neither know I where to place my wealth,Nor can I leave it here, lest it becomeAnother’s prey. Alas! Phæacia’s ChiefsNot altogether wise I deem or just,250Who have misplaced me in another land,Promis’d to bear me to the pleasant shoresOf Ithaca, but have not so perform’d.Jove, guardian of the suppliant’s rights, who allTransgressors marks, and punishes all wrong,Avenge me on the treach’rous race!—but hold—I will revise my stores, so shall I knowIf they have left me here of aught despoiled.So saying, he number’d carefully the gold,The vases, tripods bright, and tissued robes,260But nothing miss’d of all. Then he bewail’dHis native isle, with pensive steps and slowPacing the border of the billowy flood,Forlorn; but while he wept, Pallas approach’d,In form a shepherd stripling, girlish fairIn feature, such as are the sons of Kings;A sumptuous mantle o’er his shoulders hungTwice-folded, sandals his nice feet upbore,And a smooth javelin glitter’d in his hand.Ulysses, joyful at the sight, his steps270Turn’d brisk toward her, whom he thus address’d.Sweet youth! since thee, of all mankind, I firstEncounter in this land unknown, all hail!Come not with purposes of harm to me!These save, and save me also. I preferTo thee, as to some God, my pray’r, and claspThy knees a suppliant. Say, and tell me true,What land? what people? who inhabit here?Is this some isle delightful, or a shoreOf fruitful main-land sloping to the sea?280Then Pallas, thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.Stranger! thou sure art simple, or hast dweltFar distant hence, if of this land thou ask.It is not, trust me, of so little note,But known to many, both to those who dwellToward the sun-rise, and to others placedBehind it, distant in the dusky West.Rugged it is, not yielding level courseTo the swift steed, and yet no barren spot,However small, but rich in wheat and wine;290Nor wants it rain or fertilising dew,But pasture green to goats and beeves affords,Trees of all kinds, and fountains never dry.Ithaca therefore, stranger, is a nameKnown ev’n at Troy, a city, by report,At no small distance from Achaia’s shore.The Goddess ceased; then, toil-enduring ChiefUlysses, happy in his native land,(So taught by Pallas, progeny of Jove)In accents wing’d her answ’ring, utter’d prompt300Not truth, but figments to truth opposite,For guile, in him, stood never at a pause.O’er yonder flood, even in spacious Crete60I heard of Ithaca, where now, it seems,I have, myself, with these my stores arrived;Not richer stores than, flying thence, I leftTo my own children; for from Crete I fledFor slaughter of Orsilochus the swift,Son of Idomeneus, whom none in speedCould equal throughout all that spacious isle.310His purpose was to plunder me of allMy Trojan spoils, which to obtain, much woeI had in battle and by storms endured,For that I would not gratify his Sire,Fighting beside him in the fields of Troy,But led a diff’rent band. Him from the fieldReturning homeward, with my brazen spearI smote, in ambush waiting his returnAt the road-side, with a confed’rate friend.Unwonted darkness over all the heav’ns320That night prevailed, nor any eye of manObserved us, but, unseen, I slew the youth.No sooner, then, with my sharp spear of lifeI had bereft him, than I sought a shipMann’d by renown’d Phæacians, whom with giftsPart of my spoils, and by requests, I won.I bade them land me on the Pylian shore,Or in fair Elis by th’ Epeans ruled,But they, reluctant, were by violent windsDriv’n devious thence, for fraud they purposed none.330Thus through constraint we here arrived by night,And with much difficulty push’d the shipInto safe harbour, nor was mention madeOf food by any, though all needed food,But, disembark’d in haste, on shore we lay.I, weary, slept profound, and they my goodsForth heaving from the bark, beside me placedThe treasures on the sea-beach where I slept,Then, reimbarking, to the populous coastSteer’d of Sidonia, and me left forlorn.340He ceased; then smiled Minerva azure-eyedAnd stroaked his cheek, in form a woman now,Beauteous, majestic, in all elegant artsAccomplish’d, and with accents wing’d replied.Who passes thee in artifice well-framedAnd in imposture various, need shall findOf all his policy, although a God.Canst thou not cease, inventive as thou artAnd subtle, from the wiles which thou hast lov’dSince thou wast infant, and from tricks of speech350Delusive, even in thy native land?But come, dismiss we these ingenious shiftsFrom our discourse, in which we both excel;For thou of all men in expedients mostAbound’st and eloquence, and I, throughoutAll heav’n have praise for wisdom and for art.And know’st thou not thine Athenæan aid,Pallas, Jove’s daughter, who in all thy toilsAssist thee and defend? I gave thee pow’rT’ engage the hearts of all Phæacia’s sons,360And here arrive ev’n now, counsels to frameDiscrete with thee, and to conceal the storesGiv’n to thee by the rich Phæacian ChiefsOn my suggestion, at thy going thence.I will inform thee also what distressAnd hardship under thy own palace-roofThou must endure; which, since constraint enjoins,Bear patiently, and neither man apprizeNor woman that thou hast arrived forlornAnd vagabond, but silent undergo370What wrongs soever from the hands of men.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.O Goddess! thou art able to elude,Wherever met, the keenest eye of man,For thou all shapes assum’st; yet this I knowCertainly, that I ever found thee kind,Long as Achaia’s Heroes fought at Troy;But when (the lofty tow’rs of Priam laidIn dust) we re-embark’d, and by the willOf heav’n Achaia’s fleet was scatter’d wide,380Thenceforth, O daughter wise of Jove, I theeSaw not, nor thy appearance in my shipOnce mark’d, to rid me of my num’rous woes,But always bearing in my breast a heartWith anguish riv’n, I roam’d, till by the GodsRelieved at length, and till with gracious wordsThyself didst in Phæacia’s opulent landConfirm my courage, and becam’st my guide.But I adjure thee in thy father’s name—O tell me truly, (for I cannot hope390That I have reach’d fair Ithaca; I treadSome other soil, and thou affirm’st it mineTo mock me merely, and deceive) oh say—Am I in Ithaca? in truth, at home?Thus then Minerva the cærulean-eyed.Such caution in thy breast always prevailsDistrustful; but I know thee eloquent,With wisdom and with ready thought endued,And cannot leave thee, therefore, thus distress’dFor what man, save Ulysses, new-return’d400After long wand’rings, would not pant to seeAt once his home, his children, and his wife?But thou preferr’st neither to know nor askConcerning them, till some experience firstThou make of her whose wasted youth is spentIn barren solitude, and who in tearsCeaseless her nights and woeful days consumes.I ne’er was ignorant, but well foreknewThat not till after loss of all thy friendsThou should’st return; but loth I was to oppose410Neptune, my father’s brother, sore incensedFor his son’s sake deprived of sight by thee.But, I will give thee proof—come now—surveyThese marks of Ithaca, and be convinced.This is the port of Phorcys, sea-born sage;That, the huge olive at the haven’s head;Fast by it, thou behold’st the pleasant coveUmbrageous, to the nymphs devoted namedThe Naiads; this the broad-arch’d cavern isWhere thou wast wont to offer to the nymphs420Many a whole hecatomb; and yonder standsThe mountain Neritus with forests cloath’d.So saying, the Goddess scatter’d from beforeHis eyes all darkness, and he knew the land.Then felt Ulysses, Hero toil-inured,Transport unutterable, seeing plainOnce more his native isle. He kiss’d the glebe,And with uplifted hands the nymphs ador’d.Nymphs, Naiads, Jove’s own daughters! I despair’dTo see you more, whom yet with happy vows430I now can hail again. Gifts, as of old,We will hereafter at your shrines present,If Jove-born Pallas, huntress of the spoils,Grant life to me, and manhood to my son.Then Pallas, blue-eyed progeny of Jove.Take courage; trouble not thy mind with thoughtsNow needless. Haste—delay not—far withinThis hallow’d cave’s recess place we at onceThy precious stores, that they may thine remain,Then muse together on thy wisest course.440So saying, the Goddess enter’d deep the caveCaliginous, and its secret nooks exploredFrom side to side; meantime, Ulysses broughtAll his stores into it, the gold, the brass,And robes magnificent, his gifts receivedFrom the Phæacians; safe he lodg’d them all,And Pallas, daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d,Closed fast, herself, the cavern with a stone.Then, on the consecrated olive’s rootBoth seated, they in consultation plann’d450The deaths of those injurious suitors proud,And Pallas, blue-eyed Goddess, thus began.Laertes’ noble son, Ulysses! thinkBy what means likeliest thou shalt assailThose shameless suitors, who have now controuledThree years thy family, thy matchless wifeWith language amorous and with spousal giftsUrging importunate; but she, with tearsWatching thy wish’d return, hope gives to allBy messages of promise sent to each,460Framing far other purposes the while.Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.Ah, Agamemnon’s miserable fateHad surely met me in my own abode,But for thy gracious warning, pow’r divine!Come then—Devise the means; teach me, thyself,The way to vengeance, and my soul inspireWith daring fortitude, as when we loos’dHer radiant frontlet from the brows of Troy.Would’st thou with equal zeal, O Pallas! aid470Thy servant here, I would encounter thriceAn hundred enemies, let me but perceiveThy dread divinity my prompt ally.Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.And such I will be; not unmark’d by me,(Let once our time of enterprize arrive)Shalt thou assail them. Many, as I judge,Of those proud suitors who devour thy wealthShall leave their brains, then, on thy palace floor.But come. Behold! I will disguise thee so480That none shall know thee! I will parch the skinOn thy fair body; I will cause thee shedThy wavy locks; I will enfold thee roundIn such a kirtle as the eyes of allShall loath to look on; and I will deformWith blurring rheums thy eyes, so vivid erst;So shall the suitors deem thee, and thy wife,And thy own son whom thou didst leave at home,Some sordid wretch obscure. But seek thou firstThy swine-herd’s mansion; he, alike, intends490Thy good, and loves, affectionate, thy sonAnd thy Penelope; thou shalt find the swainTending his herd; they feed beneath the rockCorax, at side of Arethusa’s fount,On acorns dieted, nutritious foodTo them, and drinking of the limpid stream.There waiting, question him of thy concerns,While I from Sparta praised for women fairCall home thy son Telemachus, a guestWith Menelaus now, whom to consult500In spacious Lacedæmon he is gone,Anxious to learn if yet his father lives.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.And why, alas! all-knowing as thou art,Him left’st thou ignorant? was it that he,He also, wand’ring wide the barren Deep,Might suffer woe, while these devour his wealth?Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.Grieve thou not much for him. I sent him forthMyself, that there arrived, he might acquire510Honour and fame. No suff’rings finds he there,But in Atrides’ palace safe resides,Enjoying all abundance. Him, in truth,The suitors watch close ambush’d on the Deep,Intent to slay him ere he reach his home,But shall not as I judge, till of themselvesThe earth hide some who make thee, now, a prey.So saying, the Goddess touch’d him with a wand.At once o’er all his agile limbs she parch’dThe polish’d skin; she wither’d to the root520His wavy locks; and cloath’d him with the hideDeform’d of wrinkled age; she charged with rheumsHis eyes before so vivid, and a cloakAnd kirtle gave him, tatter’d, both, and foul,And smutch’d with smoak; then, casting over allAn huge old deer-skin bald, with a long staffShe furnish’d him, and with a wallet patch’dOn all sides, dangling by a twisted thong.Thus all their plan adjusted, diff’rent waysThey took, and she, seeking Ulysses’ son,530To Lacedæmon’s spacious realm repair’d.59Ἱερον μενος Αλκινοοιο.60Homer dates all the fictions of Ulysses from Crete, as if he meant to pass a similar censure on the Cretans to that quoted by St. Paul—κρητες αει ψευσαι.
Ulysses, having finished his narrative, and received additional presents from the Phæacians, embarks; he is conveyed in his sleep to Ithaca, and in his sleep is landed on that island. The ship that carried him is in her return transformed by Neptune to a rock.
Minerva meets him on the shore, enables him to recollect his country, which, till enlightened by her, he believed to be a country strange to him, and they concert together the means of destroying the suitors. The Goddess then repairs to Sparta to call thence Telemachus, and Ulysses, by her aid disguised like a beggar, proceeds towards the cottage of Eumæus.
He ceas’d; the whole assembly silent sat,Charm’d into ecstacy with his discourseThroughout the twilight hall. Then, thus the King.Ulysses, since beneath my brazen domeSublime thou hast arrived, like woes, I trust,Thou shalt not in thy voyage hence sustainBy tempests tost, though much to woe inured.To you, who daily in my presence quaffYour princely meed of gen’rous wine and hearThe sacred bard, my pleasure, thus I speak.10The robes, wrought gold, and all the other giftsTo this our guest, by the Phæacian ChiefsBrought hither in the sumptuous coffer lie.But come—present ye to the stranger, each,An ample tripod also, with a vaseOf smaller size, for which we will be paidBy public impost; for the charge of allExcessive were by one alone defray’d.So spake Alcinoüs, and his counsel pleased;Then, all retiring, sought repose at home.20But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,Look’d rosy forth, each hasted to the barkWith his illustrious present, which the mightOf King Alcinoüs, who himself her sidesAscended, safe beneath the seats bestowed,Lest it should harm or hinder, while he toil’dIn rowing, some Phæacian of the crew.The palace of Alcinoüs seeking next,Together, they prepared a new regale.For them, in sacrifice, the sacred might5930Of King Alcinoüs slew an ox to JoveSaturnian, cloud-girt governor of all.The thighs with fire prepared, all glad partookThe noble feast; meantime, the bard divineSang, sweet Demodocus, the people’s joy.But oft Ulysses to the radiant sunTurn’d wistful eyes, anxious for his decline,Nor longer, now, patient of dull delay.As when some hungry swain whose sable beevesHave through the fallow dragg’d his pond’rous plow40All day, the setting sun views with delightFor supper’ sake, which with tir’d feet he seeks,So welcome to Ulysses’ eyes appear’dThe sun-set of that eve; directing, then,His speech to maritime Phæacia’s sons,But to Alcinoüs chiefly, thus he said.Alcinoüs, o’er Phæacia’s realm supreme!Libation made, dismiss ye me in peace,And farewell all! for what I wish’d, I have,Conductors hence, and honourable gifts50With which heav’n prosper me! and may the GodsVouchsafe to me, at my return, to findAll safe, my spotless consort and my friends!May ye, whom here I leave, gladden your wivesAnd see your children blest, and may the pow’rsImmortal with all good enrich you all,And from calamity preserve the land!He ended, they unanimous, his speechApplauded loud, and bade dismiss the guestWho had so wisely spoken and so well.60Then thus Alcinoüs to his herald spake.Pontonoüs! charging high the beaker, bearTo ev’ry guest beneath our roof the wine,That, pray’r preferr’d to the eternal Sire,We may dismiss our inmate to his home.Then, bore Pontonoüs to ev’ry guestThe brimming cup; they, where they sat, perform’dLibation due; but the illustrious ChiefUlysses, from his seat arising, placedA massy goblet in Areta’s hand,70To whom in accents wing’d, grateful, he said.Farewell, O Queen, a long farewell, till ageArrive, and death, the appointed lot of all!I go; but be this people, and the KingAlcinoüs, and thy progeny, thy joyYet many a year beneath this glorious roof!So saying, the Hero through the palace-gateIssued, whom, by Alcinoüs’ command,The royal herald to his vessel led.Three maidens also of Areta’s train80His steps attended; one, the robe well-bleach’dAnd tunic bore; the corded coffer, one;And food the third, with wine of crimson hue.Arriving where the galley rode, each gaveHer charge to some brave mariner on board,And all was safely stow’d. Meantime were spreadLinen and arras on the deck astern,For his secure repose. And now the ChiefHimself embarking, silent lay’d him down.Then, ev’ry rower to his bench repair’d;90They drew the loosen’d cable from its holdIn the drill’d rock, and, resupine, at onceWith lusty strokes upturn’d the flashing waves.Hiseye-lids, soon, sleep, falling as a dew,Closed fast, death’s simular, in sight the same.She, as four harness’d stallions o’er the plainShooting together at the scourge’s stroke,Toss high their manes, and rapid scour along,So mounted she the waves, while dark the floodRoll’d after her of the resounding Deep.100Steady she ran and safe, passing in speedThe falcon, swiftest of the fowls of heav’n;With such rapidity she cut the waves,An hero bearing like the Gods aboveIn wisdom, one familiar long with woeIn fight sustain’d, and on the perilous flood,Though sleeping now serenely, and resign’dTo sweet oblivion of all sorrow past.The brightest star of heav’n, precursor chiefOf day-spring, now arose, when at the isle110(Her voyage soon perform’d) the bark arrived.There is a port sacred in IthacaTo Phorcys, hoary ancient of the Deep,Form’d by converging shores, prominent bothAnd both abrupt, which from the spacious bayExclude all boist’rous winds; within it, ships(The port once gain’d) uncabled ride secure.An olive, at the haven’s head, expandsHer branches wide, near to a pleasant caveUmbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named120The Naiads. In that cave beakers of stoneAnd jars are seen; bees lodge their honey there;And there, on slender spindles of the rockThe nymphs of rivers weave their wond’rous robes.Perennial springs water it, and it showsA twofold entrance; ingress one affordsTo mortal man, which Northward looks direct,But holier is the Southern far; by thatNo mortal enters, but the Gods alone.Familiar with that port before, they push’d130The vessel in; she, rapid, plow’d the sandsWith half her keel, such rowers urged her on.Descending from the well-bench’d bark ashore,They lifted forth Ulysses first, with allHis splendid couch complete, then, lay’d him downStill wrapt in balmy slumber on the sands.His treasures, next, by the Phæacian ChiefsAt his departure given him as the meedDue to his wisdom, at the olive’s footThey heap’d, without the road, lest, while he slept140Some passing traveller should rifle them.Then homeward thence they sped. Nor Ocean’s GodHis threats forgot denounced against divineUlysses, but with Jove thus first advised.Eternal Sire! I shall no longer shareRespect and reverence among the Gods,Since, now, Phæacia’s mortal race have ceas’dTo honour me, though from myself derived.It was my purpose, that by many an illHarass’d, Ulysses should have reach’d his home,150Although to intercept him, whose returnThyself had promis’d, ne’er was my intent.But him fast-sleeping swiftly o’er the wavesThey have conducted, and have set him downIn Ithaca, with countless gifts enrich’d,With brass, and tissued raiment, and with gold;Much treasure! more than he had home convey’dEven had he arrived with all his shareAllotted to him of the spoils of Troy.To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.160What hast thou spoken, Shaker of the shores,Wide-ruling Neptune? Fear not; thee the GodsWill ne’er despise; dangerous were the deedTo cast dishonour on a God by birthMore ancient, and more potent far than they.But if, profanely rash, a mortal manShould dare to slight thee, to avenge the wrongSome future day is ever in thy pow’r.Accomplish all thy pleasure, thou art free.Him answer’d, then, the Shaker of the shores.170Jove cloud-enthroned! that pleasure I would soonPerform, as thou hast said, but that I watchThy mind continual, fearful to offend.My purpose is, now to destroy amidThe dreary Deep yon fair Phæacian bark,Return’d from safe conveyance of her freight;So shall they waft such wand’rers home no more,And she shall hide their city, to a rockTransform’d of mountainous o’ershadowing size.Him, then, Jove answer’d, gath’rer of the clouds.180Perform it, O my brother, and the deedThus done, shall best be done—What time the peopleShall from the city her approach descry,Fix her to stone transform’d, but still in shapeA gallant bark, near to the coast, that allMay wonder, seeing her transform’d to stoneOf size to hide their city from the view.These words once heard, the Shaker of the shoresInstant to Scheria, maritime abodeOf the Phæacians, went. Arrived, he watch’d.190And now the flying bark full near approach’d,When Neptune, meeting her, with out-spread palmDepress’d her at a stroke, and she becameDeep-rooted stone. Then Neptune went his way.Phæacia’s ship-ennobled sons meantimeConferring stood, and thus, in accents wing’d,Th’ amazed spectator to his fellow spake.Ah! who hath sudden check’d the vessel’s courseHomeward? this moment she was all in view.Thus they, unconscious of the cause, to whom200Alcinoüs, instructing them, replied.Ye Gods! a prophecy now strikes my mindWith force, my father’s. He was wont to say—Neptune resents it, that we safe conductNatives of ev’ry region to their home.He also spake, prophetic, of a dayWhen a Phæacian gallant bark, return’dAfter conveyance of a stranger hence,Should perish in the dreary Deep, and changedTo a huge mountain, cover all the town.210So spake my father, all whose words we seeThis day fulfill’d. Thus, therefore, act we allUnanimous; henceforth no longer bearThe stranger home, when such shall here arrive;And we will sacrifice, without delay,Twelve chosen bulls to Neptune, if, perchance,He will commiserate us, and forbearTo hide our town behind a mountain’s height.He spake, they, terrified, the bulls prepared.Thus all Phæacia’s Senators and Chiefs220His altar compassing, in pray’r adoredThe Ocean’s God. Meantime, Ulysses woke,Unconscious where; stretch’d on his native soilHe lay, and knew it not, long-time exiled.For Pallas, progeny of Jove, a cloudDrew dense around him, that, ere yet agnizedBy others, he might wisdom learn from her,Neither to citizens, nor yet to friendsReveal’d, nor even to his own espoused,Till, first, he should avenge complete his wrongs230Domestic from those suitors proud sustained.All objects, therefore, in the Hero’s eyesSeem’d alien, foot-paths long, commodious ports,Heav’n-climbing rocks, and trees of amplest growth.Arising, fixt he stood, his native soilContemplating, till with expanded palmsBoth thighs he smote, and, plaintive, thus began.Ah me! what mortal race inhabits here?Rude are they, contumacious and unjust,Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods?240Where now shall I secrete these num’rous stores?Where wander I, myself? I would that stillPhæacians own’d them, and I had arrivedIn the dominions of some other KingMagnanimous, who would have entertain’dAnd sent me to my native home secure!Now, neither know I where to place my wealth,Nor can I leave it here, lest it becomeAnother’s prey. Alas! Phæacia’s ChiefsNot altogether wise I deem or just,250Who have misplaced me in another land,Promis’d to bear me to the pleasant shoresOf Ithaca, but have not so perform’d.Jove, guardian of the suppliant’s rights, who allTransgressors marks, and punishes all wrong,Avenge me on the treach’rous race!—but hold—I will revise my stores, so shall I knowIf they have left me here of aught despoiled.So saying, he number’d carefully the gold,The vases, tripods bright, and tissued robes,260But nothing miss’d of all. Then he bewail’dHis native isle, with pensive steps and slowPacing the border of the billowy flood,Forlorn; but while he wept, Pallas approach’d,In form a shepherd stripling, girlish fairIn feature, such as are the sons of Kings;A sumptuous mantle o’er his shoulders hungTwice-folded, sandals his nice feet upbore,And a smooth javelin glitter’d in his hand.Ulysses, joyful at the sight, his steps270Turn’d brisk toward her, whom he thus address’d.Sweet youth! since thee, of all mankind, I firstEncounter in this land unknown, all hail!Come not with purposes of harm to me!These save, and save me also. I preferTo thee, as to some God, my pray’r, and claspThy knees a suppliant. Say, and tell me true,What land? what people? who inhabit here?Is this some isle delightful, or a shoreOf fruitful main-land sloping to the sea?280Then Pallas, thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.Stranger! thou sure art simple, or hast dweltFar distant hence, if of this land thou ask.It is not, trust me, of so little note,But known to many, both to those who dwellToward the sun-rise, and to others placedBehind it, distant in the dusky West.Rugged it is, not yielding level courseTo the swift steed, and yet no barren spot,However small, but rich in wheat and wine;290Nor wants it rain or fertilising dew,But pasture green to goats and beeves affords,Trees of all kinds, and fountains never dry.Ithaca therefore, stranger, is a nameKnown ev’n at Troy, a city, by report,At no small distance from Achaia’s shore.The Goddess ceased; then, toil-enduring ChiefUlysses, happy in his native land,(So taught by Pallas, progeny of Jove)In accents wing’d her answ’ring, utter’d prompt300Not truth, but figments to truth opposite,For guile, in him, stood never at a pause.O’er yonder flood, even in spacious Crete60I heard of Ithaca, where now, it seems,I have, myself, with these my stores arrived;Not richer stores than, flying thence, I leftTo my own children; for from Crete I fledFor slaughter of Orsilochus the swift,Son of Idomeneus, whom none in speedCould equal throughout all that spacious isle.310His purpose was to plunder me of allMy Trojan spoils, which to obtain, much woeI had in battle and by storms endured,For that I would not gratify his Sire,Fighting beside him in the fields of Troy,But led a diff’rent band. Him from the fieldReturning homeward, with my brazen spearI smote, in ambush waiting his returnAt the road-side, with a confed’rate friend.Unwonted darkness over all the heav’ns320That night prevailed, nor any eye of manObserved us, but, unseen, I slew the youth.No sooner, then, with my sharp spear of lifeI had bereft him, than I sought a shipMann’d by renown’d Phæacians, whom with giftsPart of my spoils, and by requests, I won.I bade them land me on the Pylian shore,Or in fair Elis by th’ Epeans ruled,But they, reluctant, were by violent windsDriv’n devious thence, for fraud they purposed none.330Thus through constraint we here arrived by night,And with much difficulty push’d the shipInto safe harbour, nor was mention madeOf food by any, though all needed food,But, disembark’d in haste, on shore we lay.I, weary, slept profound, and they my goodsForth heaving from the bark, beside me placedThe treasures on the sea-beach where I slept,Then, reimbarking, to the populous coastSteer’d of Sidonia, and me left forlorn.340He ceased; then smiled Minerva azure-eyedAnd stroaked his cheek, in form a woman now,Beauteous, majestic, in all elegant artsAccomplish’d, and with accents wing’d replied.Who passes thee in artifice well-framedAnd in imposture various, need shall findOf all his policy, although a God.Canst thou not cease, inventive as thou artAnd subtle, from the wiles which thou hast lov’dSince thou wast infant, and from tricks of speech350Delusive, even in thy native land?But come, dismiss we these ingenious shiftsFrom our discourse, in which we both excel;For thou of all men in expedients mostAbound’st and eloquence, and I, throughoutAll heav’n have praise for wisdom and for art.And know’st thou not thine Athenæan aid,Pallas, Jove’s daughter, who in all thy toilsAssist thee and defend? I gave thee pow’rT’ engage the hearts of all Phæacia’s sons,360And here arrive ev’n now, counsels to frameDiscrete with thee, and to conceal the storesGiv’n to thee by the rich Phæacian ChiefsOn my suggestion, at thy going thence.I will inform thee also what distressAnd hardship under thy own palace-roofThou must endure; which, since constraint enjoins,Bear patiently, and neither man apprizeNor woman that thou hast arrived forlornAnd vagabond, but silent undergo370What wrongs soever from the hands of men.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.O Goddess! thou art able to elude,Wherever met, the keenest eye of man,For thou all shapes assum’st; yet this I knowCertainly, that I ever found thee kind,Long as Achaia’s Heroes fought at Troy;But when (the lofty tow’rs of Priam laidIn dust) we re-embark’d, and by the willOf heav’n Achaia’s fleet was scatter’d wide,380Thenceforth, O daughter wise of Jove, I theeSaw not, nor thy appearance in my shipOnce mark’d, to rid me of my num’rous woes,But always bearing in my breast a heartWith anguish riv’n, I roam’d, till by the GodsRelieved at length, and till with gracious wordsThyself didst in Phæacia’s opulent landConfirm my courage, and becam’st my guide.But I adjure thee in thy father’s name—O tell me truly, (for I cannot hope390That I have reach’d fair Ithaca; I treadSome other soil, and thou affirm’st it mineTo mock me merely, and deceive) oh say—Am I in Ithaca? in truth, at home?Thus then Minerva the cærulean-eyed.Such caution in thy breast always prevailsDistrustful; but I know thee eloquent,With wisdom and with ready thought endued,And cannot leave thee, therefore, thus distress’dFor what man, save Ulysses, new-return’d400After long wand’rings, would not pant to seeAt once his home, his children, and his wife?But thou preferr’st neither to know nor askConcerning them, till some experience firstThou make of her whose wasted youth is spentIn barren solitude, and who in tearsCeaseless her nights and woeful days consumes.I ne’er was ignorant, but well foreknewThat not till after loss of all thy friendsThou should’st return; but loth I was to oppose410Neptune, my father’s brother, sore incensedFor his son’s sake deprived of sight by thee.But, I will give thee proof—come now—surveyThese marks of Ithaca, and be convinced.This is the port of Phorcys, sea-born sage;That, the huge olive at the haven’s head;Fast by it, thou behold’st the pleasant coveUmbrageous, to the nymphs devoted namedThe Naiads; this the broad-arch’d cavern isWhere thou wast wont to offer to the nymphs420Many a whole hecatomb; and yonder standsThe mountain Neritus with forests cloath’d.So saying, the Goddess scatter’d from beforeHis eyes all darkness, and he knew the land.Then felt Ulysses, Hero toil-inured,Transport unutterable, seeing plainOnce more his native isle. He kiss’d the glebe,And with uplifted hands the nymphs ador’d.Nymphs, Naiads, Jove’s own daughters! I despair’dTo see you more, whom yet with happy vows430I now can hail again. Gifts, as of old,We will hereafter at your shrines present,If Jove-born Pallas, huntress of the spoils,Grant life to me, and manhood to my son.Then Pallas, blue-eyed progeny of Jove.Take courage; trouble not thy mind with thoughtsNow needless. Haste—delay not—far withinThis hallow’d cave’s recess place we at onceThy precious stores, that they may thine remain,Then muse together on thy wisest course.440So saying, the Goddess enter’d deep the caveCaliginous, and its secret nooks exploredFrom side to side; meantime, Ulysses broughtAll his stores into it, the gold, the brass,And robes magnificent, his gifts receivedFrom the Phæacians; safe he lodg’d them all,And Pallas, daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d,Closed fast, herself, the cavern with a stone.Then, on the consecrated olive’s rootBoth seated, they in consultation plann’d450The deaths of those injurious suitors proud,And Pallas, blue-eyed Goddess, thus began.Laertes’ noble son, Ulysses! thinkBy what means likeliest thou shalt assailThose shameless suitors, who have now controuledThree years thy family, thy matchless wifeWith language amorous and with spousal giftsUrging importunate; but she, with tearsWatching thy wish’d return, hope gives to allBy messages of promise sent to each,460Framing far other purposes the while.Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.Ah, Agamemnon’s miserable fateHad surely met me in my own abode,But for thy gracious warning, pow’r divine!Come then—Devise the means; teach me, thyself,The way to vengeance, and my soul inspireWith daring fortitude, as when we loos’dHer radiant frontlet from the brows of Troy.Would’st thou with equal zeal, O Pallas! aid470Thy servant here, I would encounter thriceAn hundred enemies, let me but perceiveThy dread divinity my prompt ally.Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.And such I will be; not unmark’d by me,(Let once our time of enterprize arrive)Shalt thou assail them. Many, as I judge,Of those proud suitors who devour thy wealthShall leave their brains, then, on thy palace floor.But come. Behold! I will disguise thee so480That none shall know thee! I will parch the skinOn thy fair body; I will cause thee shedThy wavy locks; I will enfold thee roundIn such a kirtle as the eyes of allShall loath to look on; and I will deformWith blurring rheums thy eyes, so vivid erst;So shall the suitors deem thee, and thy wife,And thy own son whom thou didst leave at home,Some sordid wretch obscure. But seek thou firstThy swine-herd’s mansion; he, alike, intends490Thy good, and loves, affectionate, thy sonAnd thy Penelope; thou shalt find the swainTending his herd; they feed beneath the rockCorax, at side of Arethusa’s fount,On acorns dieted, nutritious foodTo them, and drinking of the limpid stream.There waiting, question him of thy concerns,While I from Sparta praised for women fairCall home thy son Telemachus, a guestWith Menelaus now, whom to consult500In spacious Lacedæmon he is gone,Anxious to learn if yet his father lives.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.And why, alas! all-knowing as thou art,Him left’st thou ignorant? was it that he,He also, wand’ring wide the barren Deep,Might suffer woe, while these devour his wealth?Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.Grieve thou not much for him. I sent him forthMyself, that there arrived, he might acquire510Honour and fame. No suff’rings finds he there,But in Atrides’ palace safe resides,Enjoying all abundance. Him, in truth,The suitors watch close ambush’d on the Deep,Intent to slay him ere he reach his home,But shall not as I judge, till of themselvesThe earth hide some who make thee, now, a prey.So saying, the Goddess touch’d him with a wand.At once o’er all his agile limbs she parch’dThe polish’d skin; she wither’d to the root520His wavy locks; and cloath’d him with the hideDeform’d of wrinkled age; she charged with rheumsHis eyes before so vivid, and a cloakAnd kirtle gave him, tatter’d, both, and foul,And smutch’d with smoak; then, casting over allAn huge old deer-skin bald, with a long staffShe furnish’d him, and with a wallet patch’dOn all sides, dangling by a twisted thong.Thus all their plan adjusted, diff’rent waysThey took, and she, seeking Ulysses’ son,530To Lacedæmon’s spacious realm repair’d.
He ceas’d; the whole assembly silent sat,Charm’d into ecstacy with his discourseThroughout the twilight hall. Then, thus the King.Ulysses, since beneath my brazen domeSublime thou hast arrived, like woes, I trust,Thou shalt not in thy voyage hence sustainBy tempests tost, though much to woe inured.To you, who daily in my presence quaffYour princely meed of gen’rous wine and hearThe sacred bard, my pleasure, thus I speak.10The robes, wrought gold, and all the other giftsTo this our guest, by the Phæacian ChiefsBrought hither in the sumptuous coffer lie.But come—present ye to the stranger, each,An ample tripod also, with a vaseOf smaller size, for which we will be paidBy public impost; for the charge of allExcessive were by one alone defray’d.So spake Alcinoüs, and his counsel pleased;Then, all retiring, sought repose at home.20But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,Look’d rosy forth, each hasted to the barkWith his illustrious present, which the mightOf King Alcinoüs, who himself her sidesAscended, safe beneath the seats bestowed,Lest it should harm or hinder, while he toil’dIn rowing, some Phæacian of the crew.The palace of Alcinoüs seeking next,Together, they prepared a new regale.For them, in sacrifice, the sacred might5930Of King Alcinoüs slew an ox to JoveSaturnian, cloud-girt governor of all.The thighs with fire prepared, all glad partookThe noble feast; meantime, the bard divineSang, sweet Demodocus, the people’s joy.But oft Ulysses to the radiant sunTurn’d wistful eyes, anxious for his decline,Nor longer, now, patient of dull delay.As when some hungry swain whose sable beevesHave through the fallow dragg’d his pond’rous plow40All day, the setting sun views with delightFor supper’ sake, which with tir’d feet he seeks,So welcome to Ulysses’ eyes appear’dThe sun-set of that eve; directing, then,His speech to maritime Phæacia’s sons,But to Alcinoüs chiefly, thus he said.Alcinoüs, o’er Phæacia’s realm supreme!Libation made, dismiss ye me in peace,And farewell all! for what I wish’d, I have,Conductors hence, and honourable gifts50With which heav’n prosper me! and may the GodsVouchsafe to me, at my return, to findAll safe, my spotless consort and my friends!May ye, whom here I leave, gladden your wivesAnd see your children blest, and may the pow’rsImmortal with all good enrich you all,And from calamity preserve the land!He ended, they unanimous, his speechApplauded loud, and bade dismiss the guestWho had so wisely spoken and so well.60Then thus Alcinoüs to his herald spake.Pontonoüs! charging high the beaker, bearTo ev’ry guest beneath our roof the wine,That, pray’r preferr’d to the eternal Sire,We may dismiss our inmate to his home.Then, bore Pontonoüs to ev’ry guestThe brimming cup; they, where they sat, perform’dLibation due; but the illustrious ChiefUlysses, from his seat arising, placedA massy goblet in Areta’s hand,70To whom in accents wing’d, grateful, he said.Farewell, O Queen, a long farewell, till ageArrive, and death, the appointed lot of all!I go; but be this people, and the KingAlcinoüs, and thy progeny, thy joyYet many a year beneath this glorious roof!So saying, the Hero through the palace-gateIssued, whom, by Alcinoüs’ command,The royal herald to his vessel led.Three maidens also of Areta’s train80His steps attended; one, the robe well-bleach’dAnd tunic bore; the corded coffer, one;And food the third, with wine of crimson hue.Arriving where the galley rode, each gaveHer charge to some brave mariner on board,And all was safely stow’d. Meantime were spreadLinen and arras on the deck astern,For his secure repose. And now the ChiefHimself embarking, silent lay’d him down.Then, ev’ry rower to his bench repair’d;90They drew the loosen’d cable from its holdIn the drill’d rock, and, resupine, at onceWith lusty strokes upturn’d the flashing waves.Hiseye-lids, soon, sleep, falling as a dew,Closed fast, death’s simular, in sight the same.She, as four harness’d stallions o’er the plainShooting together at the scourge’s stroke,Toss high their manes, and rapid scour along,So mounted she the waves, while dark the floodRoll’d after her of the resounding Deep.100Steady she ran and safe, passing in speedThe falcon, swiftest of the fowls of heav’n;With such rapidity she cut the waves,An hero bearing like the Gods aboveIn wisdom, one familiar long with woeIn fight sustain’d, and on the perilous flood,Though sleeping now serenely, and resign’dTo sweet oblivion of all sorrow past.The brightest star of heav’n, precursor chiefOf day-spring, now arose, when at the isle110(Her voyage soon perform’d) the bark arrived.There is a port sacred in IthacaTo Phorcys, hoary ancient of the Deep,Form’d by converging shores, prominent bothAnd both abrupt, which from the spacious bayExclude all boist’rous winds; within it, ships(The port once gain’d) uncabled ride secure.An olive, at the haven’s head, expandsHer branches wide, near to a pleasant caveUmbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named120The Naiads. In that cave beakers of stoneAnd jars are seen; bees lodge their honey there;And there, on slender spindles of the rockThe nymphs of rivers weave their wond’rous robes.Perennial springs water it, and it showsA twofold entrance; ingress one affordsTo mortal man, which Northward looks direct,But holier is the Southern far; by thatNo mortal enters, but the Gods alone.Familiar with that port before, they push’d130The vessel in; she, rapid, plow’d the sandsWith half her keel, such rowers urged her on.Descending from the well-bench’d bark ashore,They lifted forth Ulysses first, with allHis splendid couch complete, then, lay’d him downStill wrapt in balmy slumber on the sands.His treasures, next, by the Phæacian ChiefsAt his departure given him as the meedDue to his wisdom, at the olive’s footThey heap’d, without the road, lest, while he slept140Some passing traveller should rifle them.Then homeward thence they sped. Nor Ocean’s GodHis threats forgot denounced against divineUlysses, but with Jove thus first advised.Eternal Sire! I shall no longer shareRespect and reverence among the Gods,Since, now, Phæacia’s mortal race have ceas’dTo honour me, though from myself derived.It was my purpose, that by many an illHarass’d, Ulysses should have reach’d his home,150Although to intercept him, whose returnThyself had promis’d, ne’er was my intent.But him fast-sleeping swiftly o’er the wavesThey have conducted, and have set him downIn Ithaca, with countless gifts enrich’d,With brass, and tissued raiment, and with gold;Much treasure! more than he had home convey’dEven had he arrived with all his shareAllotted to him of the spoils of Troy.To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.160What hast thou spoken, Shaker of the shores,Wide-ruling Neptune? Fear not; thee the GodsWill ne’er despise; dangerous were the deedTo cast dishonour on a God by birthMore ancient, and more potent far than they.But if, profanely rash, a mortal manShould dare to slight thee, to avenge the wrongSome future day is ever in thy pow’r.Accomplish all thy pleasure, thou art free.Him answer’d, then, the Shaker of the shores.170Jove cloud-enthroned! that pleasure I would soonPerform, as thou hast said, but that I watchThy mind continual, fearful to offend.My purpose is, now to destroy amidThe dreary Deep yon fair Phæacian bark,Return’d from safe conveyance of her freight;So shall they waft such wand’rers home no more,And she shall hide their city, to a rockTransform’d of mountainous o’ershadowing size.Him, then, Jove answer’d, gath’rer of the clouds.180Perform it, O my brother, and the deedThus done, shall best be done—What time the peopleShall from the city her approach descry,Fix her to stone transform’d, but still in shapeA gallant bark, near to the coast, that allMay wonder, seeing her transform’d to stoneOf size to hide their city from the view.These words once heard, the Shaker of the shoresInstant to Scheria, maritime abodeOf the Phæacians, went. Arrived, he watch’d.190And now the flying bark full near approach’d,When Neptune, meeting her, with out-spread palmDepress’d her at a stroke, and she becameDeep-rooted stone. Then Neptune went his way.Phæacia’s ship-ennobled sons meantimeConferring stood, and thus, in accents wing’d,Th’ amazed spectator to his fellow spake.Ah! who hath sudden check’d the vessel’s courseHomeward? this moment she was all in view.Thus they, unconscious of the cause, to whom200Alcinoüs, instructing them, replied.Ye Gods! a prophecy now strikes my mindWith force, my father’s. He was wont to say—Neptune resents it, that we safe conductNatives of ev’ry region to their home.He also spake, prophetic, of a dayWhen a Phæacian gallant bark, return’dAfter conveyance of a stranger hence,Should perish in the dreary Deep, and changedTo a huge mountain, cover all the town.210So spake my father, all whose words we seeThis day fulfill’d. Thus, therefore, act we allUnanimous; henceforth no longer bearThe stranger home, when such shall here arrive;And we will sacrifice, without delay,Twelve chosen bulls to Neptune, if, perchance,He will commiserate us, and forbearTo hide our town behind a mountain’s height.He spake, they, terrified, the bulls prepared.Thus all Phæacia’s Senators and Chiefs220His altar compassing, in pray’r adoredThe Ocean’s God. Meantime, Ulysses woke,Unconscious where; stretch’d on his native soilHe lay, and knew it not, long-time exiled.For Pallas, progeny of Jove, a cloudDrew dense around him, that, ere yet agnizedBy others, he might wisdom learn from her,Neither to citizens, nor yet to friendsReveal’d, nor even to his own espoused,Till, first, he should avenge complete his wrongs230Domestic from those suitors proud sustained.All objects, therefore, in the Hero’s eyesSeem’d alien, foot-paths long, commodious ports,Heav’n-climbing rocks, and trees of amplest growth.Arising, fixt he stood, his native soilContemplating, till with expanded palmsBoth thighs he smote, and, plaintive, thus began.Ah me! what mortal race inhabits here?Rude are they, contumacious and unjust,Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods?240Where now shall I secrete these num’rous stores?Where wander I, myself? I would that stillPhæacians own’d them, and I had arrivedIn the dominions of some other KingMagnanimous, who would have entertain’dAnd sent me to my native home secure!Now, neither know I where to place my wealth,Nor can I leave it here, lest it becomeAnother’s prey. Alas! Phæacia’s ChiefsNot altogether wise I deem or just,250Who have misplaced me in another land,Promis’d to bear me to the pleasant shoresOf Ithaca, but have not so perform’d.Jove, guardian of the suppliant’s rights, who allTransgressors marks, and punishes all wrong,Avenge me on the treach’rous race!—but hold—I will revise my stores, so shall I knowIf they have left me here of aught despoiled.So saying, he number’d carefully the gold,The vases, tripods bright, and tissued robes,260But nothing miss’d of all. Then he bewail’dHis native isle, with pensive steps and slowPacing the border of the billowy flood,Forlorn; but while he wept, Pallas approach’d,In form a shepherd stripling, girlish fairIn feature, such as are the sons of Kings;A sumptuous mantle o’er his shoulders hungTwice-folded, sandals his nice feet upbore,And a smooth javelin glitter’d in his hand.Ulysses, joyful at the sight, his steps270Turn’d brisk toward her, whom he thus address’d.Sweet youth! since thee, of all mankind, I firstEncounter in this land unknown, all hail!Come not with purposes of harm to me!These save, and save me also. I preferTo thee, as to some God, my pray’r, and claspThy knees a suppliant. Say, and tell me true,What land? what people? who inhabit here?Is this some isle delightful, or a shoreOf fruitful main-land sloping to the sea?280Then Pallas, thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.Stranger! thou sure art simple, or hast dweltFar distant hence, if of this land thou ask.It is not, trust me, of so little note,But known to many, both to those who dwellToward the sun-rise, and to others placedBehind it, distant in the dusky West.Rugged it is, not yielding level courseTo the swift steed, and yet no barren spot,However small, but rich in wheat and wine;290Nor wants it rain or fertilising dew,But pasture green to goats and beeves affords,Trees of all kinds, and fountains never dry.Ithaca therefore, stranger, is a nameKnown ev’n at Troy, a city, by report,At no small distance from Achaia’s shore.The Goddess ceased; then, toil-enduring ChiefUlysses, happy in his native land,(So taught by Pallas, progeny of Jove)In accents wing’d her answ’ring, utter’d prompt300Not truth, but figments to truth opposite,For guile, in him, stood never at a pause.O’er yonder flood, even in spacious Crete60I heard of Ithaca, where now, it seems,I have, myself, with these my stores arrived;Not richer stores than, flying thence, I leftTo my own children; for from Crete I fledFor slaughter of Orsilochus the swift,Son of Idomeneus, whom none in speedCould equal throughout all that spacious isle.310His purpose was to plunder me of allMy Trojan spoils, which to obtain, much woeI had in battle and by storms endured,For that I would not gratify his Sire,Fighting beside him in the fields of Troy,But led a diff’rent band. Him from the fieldReturning homeward, with my brazen spearI smote, in ambush waiting his returnAt the road-side, with a confed’rate friend.Unwonted darkness over all the heav’ns320That night prevailed, nor any eye of manObserved us, but, unseen, I slew the youth.No sooner, then, with my sharp spear of lifeI had bereft him, than I sought a shipMann’d by renown’d Phæacians, whom with giftsPart of my spoils, and by requests, I won.I bade them land me on the Pylian shore,Or in fair Elis by th’ Epeans ruled,But they, reluctant, were by violent windsDriv’n devious thence, for fraud they purposed none.330Thus through constraint we here arrived by night,And with much difficulty push’d the shipInto safe harbour, nor was mention madeOf food by any, though all needed food,But, disembark’d in haste, on shore we lay.I, weary, slept profound, and they my goodsForth heaving from the bark, beside me placedThe treasures on the sea-beach where I slept,Then, reimbarking, to the populous coastSteer’d of Sidonia, and me left forlorn.340He ceased; then smiled Minerva azure-eyedAnd stroaked his cheek, in form a woman now,Beauteous, majestic, in all elegant artsAccomplish’d, and with accents wing’d replied.Who passes thee in artifice well-framedAnd in imposture various, need shall findOf all his policy, although a God.Canst thou not cease, inventive as thou artAnd subtle, from the wiles which thou hast lov’dSince thou wast infant, and from tricks of speech350Delusive, even in thy native land?But come, dismiss we these ingenious shiftsFrom our discourse, in which we both excel;For thou of all men in expedients mostAbound’st and eloquence, and I, throughoutAll heav’n have praise for wisdom and for art.And know’st thou not thine Athenæan aid,Pallas, Jove’s daughter, who in all thy toilsAssist thee and defend? I gave thee pow’rT’ engage the hearts of all Phæacia’s sons,360And here arrive ev’n now, counsels to frameDiscrete with thee, and to conceal the storesGiv’n to thee by the rich Phæacian ChiefsOn my suggestion, at thy going thence.I will inform thee also what distressAnd hardship under thy own palace-roofThou must endure; which, since constraint enjoins,Bear patiently, and neither man apprizeNor woman that thou hast arrived forlornAnd vagabond, but silent undergo370What wrongs soever from the hands of men.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.O Goddess! thou art able to elude,Wherever met, the keenest eye of man,For thou all shapes assum’st; yet this I knowCertainly, that I ever found thee kind,Long as Achaia’s Heroes fought at Troy;But when (the lofty tow’rs of Priam laidIn dust) we re-embark’d, and by the willOf heav’n Achaia’s fleet was scatter’d wide,380Thenceforth, O daughter wise of Jove, I theeSaw not, nor thy appearance in my shipOnce mark’d, to rid me of my num’rous woes,But always bearing in my breast a heartWith anguish riv’n, I roam’d, till by the GodsRelieved at length, and till with gracious wordsThyself didst in Phæacia’s opulent landConfirm my courage, and becam’st my guide.But I adjure thee in thy father’s name—O tell me truly, (for I cannot hope390That I have reach’d fair Ithaca; I treadSome other soil, and thou affirm’st it mineTo mock me merely, and deceive) oh say—Am I in Ithaca? in truth, at home?Thus then Minerva the cærulean-eyed.Such caution in thy breast always prevailsDistrustful; but I know thee eloquent,With wisdom and with ready thought endued,And cannot leave thee, therefore, thus distress’dFor what man, save Ulysses, new-return’d400After long wand’rings, would not pant to seeAt once his home, his children, and his wife?But thou preferr’st neither to know nor askConcerning them, till some experience firstThou make of her whose wasted youth is spentIn barren solitude, and who in tearsCeaseless her nights and woeful days consumes.I ne’er was ignorant, but well foreknewThat not till after loss of all thy friendsThou should’st return; but loth I was to oppose410Neptune, my father’s brother, sore incensedFor his son’s sake deprived of sight by thee.But, I will give thee proof—come now—surveyThese marks of Ithaca, and be convinced.This is the port of Phorcys, sea-born sage;That, the huge olive at the haven’s head;Fast by it, thou behold’st the pleasant coveUmbrageous, to the nymphs devoted namedThe Naiads; this the broad-arch’d cavern isWhere thou wast wont to offer to the nymphs420Many a whole hecatomb; and yonder standsThe mountain Neritus with forests cloath’d.So saying, the Goddess scatter’d from beforeHis eyes all darkness, and he knew the land.Then felt Ulysses, Hero toil-inured,Transport unutterable, seeing plainOnce more his native isle. He kiss’d the glebe,And with uplifted hands the nymphs ador’d.Nymphs, Naiads, Jove’s own daughters! I despair’dTo see you more, whom yet with happy vows430I now can hail again. Gifts, as of old,We will hereafter at your shrines present,If Jove-born Pallas, huntress of the spoils,Grant life to me, and manhood to my son.Then Pallas, blue-eyed progeny of Jove.Take courage; trouble not thy mind with thoughtsNow needless. Haste—delay not—far withinThis hallow’d cave’s recess place we at onceThy precious stores, that they may thine remain,Then muse together on thy wisest course.440So saying, the Goddess enter’d deep the caveCaliginous, and its secret nooks exploredFrom side to side; meantime, Ulysses broughtAll his stores into it, the gold, the brass,And robes magnificent, his gifts receivedFrom the Phæacians; safe he lodg’d them all,And Pallas, daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d,Closed fast, herself, the cavern with a stone.Then, on the consecrated olive’s rootBoth seated, they in consultation plann’d450The deaths of those injurious suitors proud,And Pallas, blue-eyed Goddess, thus began.Laertes’ noble son, Ulysses! thinkBy what means likeliest thou shalt assailThose shameless suitors, who have now controuledThree years thy family, thy matchless wifeWith language amorous and with spousal giftsUrging importunate; but she, with tearsWatching thy wish’d return, hope gives to allBy messages of promise sent to each,460Framing far other purposes the while.Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.Ah, Agamemnon’s miserable fateHad surely met me in my own abode,But for thy gracious warning, pow’r divine!Come then—Devise the means; teach me, thyself,The way to vengeance, and my soul inspireWith daring fortitude, as when we loos’dHer radiant frontlet from the brows of Troy.Would’st thou with equal zeal, O Pallas! aid470Thy servant here, I would encounter thriceAn hundred enemies, let me but perceiveThy dread divinity my prompt ally.Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.And such I will be; not unmark’d by me,(Let once our time of enterprize arrive)Shalt thou assail them. Many, as I judge,Of those proud suitors who devour thy wealthShall leave their brains, then, on thy palace floor.But come. Behold! I will disguise thee so480That none shall know thee! I will parch the skinOn thy fair body; I will cause thee shedThy wavy locks; I will enfold thee roundIn such a kirtle as the eyes of allShall loath to look on; and I will deformWith blurring rheums thy eyes, so vivid erst;So shall the suitors deem thee, and thy wife,And thy own son whom thou didst leave at home,Some sordid wretch obscure. But seek thou firstThy swine-herd’s mansion; he, alike, intends490Thy good, and loves, affectionate, thy sonAnd thy Penelope; thou shalt find the swainTending his herd; they feed beneath the rockCorax, at side of Arethusa’s fount,On acorns dieted, nutritious foodTo them, and drinking of the limpid stream.There waiting, question him of thy concerns,While I from Sparta praised for women fairCall home thy son Telemachus, a guestWith Menelaus now, whom to consult500In spacious Lacedæmon he is gone,Anxious to learn if yet his father lives.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.And why, alas! all-knowing as thou art,Him left’st thou ignorant? was it that he,He also, wand’ring wide the barren Deep,Might suffer woe, while these devour his wealth?Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.Grieve thou not much for him. I sent him forthMyself, that there arrived, he might acquire510Honour and fame. No suff’rings finds he there,But in Atrides’ palace safe resides,Enjoying all abundance. Him, in truth,The suitors watch close ambush’d on the Deep,Intent to slay him ere he reach his home,But shall not as I judge, till of themselvesThe earth hide some who make thee, now, a prey.So saying, the Goddess touch’d him with a wand.At once o’er all his agile limbs she parch’dThe polish’d skin; she wither’d to the root520His wavy locks; and cloath’d him with the hideDeform’d of wrinkled age; she charged with rheumsHis eyes before so vivid, and a cloakAnd kirtle gave him, tatter’d, both, and foul,And smutch’d with smoak; then, casting over allAn huge old deer-skin bald, with a long staffShe furnish’d him, and with a wallet patch’dOn all sides, dangling by a twisted thong.Thus all their plan adjusted, diff’rent waysThey took, and she, seeking Ulysses’ son,530To Lacedæmon’s spacious realm repair’d.
59Ἱερον μενος Αλκινοοιο.60Homer dates all the fictions of Ulysses from Crete, as if he meant to pass a similar censure on the Cretans to that quoted by St. Paul—κρητες αει ψευσαι.
59Ἱερον μενος Αλκινοοιο.
59Ἱερον μενος Αλκινοοιο.
60Homer dates all the fictions of Ulysses from Crete, as if he meant to pass a similar censure on the Cretans to that quoted by St. Paul—κρητες αει ψευσαι.
60Homer dates all the fictions of Ulysses from Crete, as if he meant to pass a similar censure on the Cretans to that quoted by St. Paul—κρητες αει ψευσαι.