BOOK XV

BOOK XVARGUMENTTelemachus, admonished by Minerva, takes leave of Menelaus, but ere he sails, is accosted by Theoclymenos, a prophet of Argos, whom at his earnest request he takes on board. In the meantime Eumæus relates to Ulysses the means by which he came to Ithaca. Telemachus arriving there, gives orders for the return of his bark to the city, and repairs himself to Eumæus.Meantime to Lacedæmon’s spacious valeMinerva went, that she might summon thenceUlysses’ glorious son to his own home.Arrived, she found Telemachus reposedAnd Nestor’s son beneath the vestibuleOf Menelaus, mighty Chief; she sawPisistratus in bands of gentle sleepFast-bound, but not Telemachus; his mindNo rest enjoy’d, by filial cares disturb’dAmid the silent night, when, drawing near10To his couch side, the Goddess thus began.Thou canst no longer prudently remainA wand’rer here, Telemachus! thy homeAbandon’d, and those haughty suitors leftWithin thy walls; fear lest, partition madeOf thy possessions, they devour the whole,And in the end thy voyage bootless prove.Delay not; from brave Menelaus askDismission hence, that thou may’st find at homeThy spotless mother, whom her brethren urge20And her own father even now to wedEurymachus, in gifts and in amountOf proffer’d dow’r superior to them all.Some treasure, else, shall haply from thy houseBe taken, such as thou wilt grudge to spare.For well thou know’st how woman is disposed;Her whole anxiety is to encreaseHis substance whom she weds; no care hath sheOf her first children, or remembers moreThe buried husband of her virgin choice.30Returning then, to her of all thy trainWhom thou shalt most approve, the charge commitOf thy concerns domestic, till the GodsThemselves shall guide thee to a noble wife.Hear also this, and mark it. In the frithSamos the rude, and Ithaca between,The chief of all her suitors thy returnIn vigilant ambush wait, with strong desireTo slay thee, ere thou reach thy native shore,But shall not, as I judge, till the earth hide40Many a lewd reveller at thy expence.Yet, steer thy galley from those isles afar,And voyage make by night; some guardian GodShall save thee, and shall send thee prosp’rous gales.Then, soon as thou attain’st the nearest shoreOf Ithaca, dispatching to the townThy bark with all thy people, seek at onceThe swine-herd; for Eumæus is thy friend.There sleep, and send him forth into the townWith tidings to Penelope, that safe50Thou art restored from Pylus home again.She said, and sought th’ Olympian heights sublime.Then, with his heel shaking him, he awokeThe son of Nestor, whom he thus address’d.Rise, Nestor’s son, Pisistratus! lead forthThe steeds, and yoke them. We must now depart.To whom the son of Nestor thus replied.Telemachus! what haste soe’er we feel,We can by no means prudently attemptTo drive by night, and soon it will be dawn.60Stay, therefore, till the Hero, Atreus’ son,Spear-practis’d Menelaus shall his giftsPlace in the chariot, and with kind farewellDismiss thee; for the guest in mem’ry holdsThrough life, the host who treats him as a friend.Scarce had he spoken, when the golden dawnAppearing, Menelaus, from the sideOf beauteous Helen ris’n, their bed approach’d,Whose coming when Telemachus perceived,Cloathing himself hastily in his vest70Magnificent, and o’er his shoulders broadCasting his graceful mantle, at the doorHe met the Hero, whom he thus address’d.Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown’d!Dismiss me hence to Ithaca again,My native isle, for I desire to go.Him answer’d Menelaus famed in arms.Telemachus! I will not long delayThy wish’d return. I disapprove alikeThe host whose assiduity extreme80Distresses, and whose negligence offends;The middle course is best; alike we err,Him thrusting forth whose wish is to remain,And hind’ring the impatient to depart.This only is true kindness—To regaleThe present guest, and speed him when he would.Yet stay, till thou shalt see my splendid giftsPlaced in thy chariot, and till I commandMy women from our present stores to spreadThe table with a plentiful repast.90For both the honour of the guest demands,And his convenience also, that he eatSufficient, ent’ring on a length of road.But if through Hellas thou wilt take thy wayAnd traverse Argos, I will, then, myselfAttend thee; thou shalt journey with my steedsBeneath thy yoke, and I will be thy guideTo many a city, whence we shall not goUngratified, but shall in each receiveSome gift at least, tripod, or charger bright,100Or golden chalice, or a pair of mules.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown’d!I would at once depart, (for guardian noneOf my possessions have I left behind)Lest, while I seek my father, I be lostMyself, or lose what I should grudge to spare.Which when the valiant Menelaus heard,He bade his spouse and maidens spread the boardAt once with remnants of the last regale.110Then Eteoneus came, Boetheus’ sonNewly aris’n, for nigh at hand he dwelt,Whom Menelaus bade kindle the fireBy which to dress their food, and he obey’d.He next, himself his fragrant chamber sought,Not sole, but by his spouse and by his sonAttended, Megapenthes. There arrivedWhere all his treasures lay, Atrides, first,Took forth, himself, a goblet, then consign’dTo his son’s hand an argent beaker bright.120Meantime, beside her coffers Helen stoodWhere lay her variegated robes, fair worksOf her own hand. Producing one, in sizeAnd in magnificence the chief, a starFor splendour, and the lowest placed of all,Loveliest of her sex, she bore it thence.Then, all proceeding through the house, they soughtTelemachus again, whom reaching, thusThe Hero of the golden locks began.May Jove the Thunderer, dread Juno’s mate,130Grant thee, Telemachus! such voyage homeAs thy own heart desires! accept from allMy stores selected as the richest farAnd noblest gift for finish’d beauty—This.I give thee wrought elaborate a cup,Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold.It is the work of Vulcan, which to meThe Hero Phædimus imparted, KingOf the Sidonians, when, on my return,Beneath his roof I lodg’d. I make it thine.140So saying, the Hero, Atreus’ son, the cupPlaced in his hands, and Megapenthes setBefore him, next, the argent beaker bright;But lovely Helen drawing nigh, the robePresented to him, whom she thus address’d.I also give thee, oh my son, a gift,Which seeing, thou shalt think on her whose handsWrought it; a present on thy nuptial dayFor thy fair spouse; meantime, repose it safeIn thy own mother’s keeping. Now, farewell!150Prosp’rous and happy be thy voyage home!She ceas’d, and gave it to him, who the giftAccepted glad, and in the chariot-chestPisistratus the Hero all disposed,Admiring them the while. They, following, next,The Hero Menelaus to his hallEach on his couch or on his throne reposed.A maiden, then, with golden ewer chargedAnd silver bowl, pour’d water on their hands,And spread the polish’d table, which with food160Various, selected from her present stores,The mistress of the household charge supplied.Boetheus’ son stood carver, and to eachHis portion gave, while Megapenthes, sonOf glorious Menelaus, serv’d the cup.Then, all with outstretch’d hands the feast assail’d,And when nor hunger more nor thirst of wineThey felt, Telemachus and Nestor’s sonYoked the swift steeds, and, taking each his seatIn the resplendent chariot, drove at once170Right through the sounding portico abroad.But Menelaus, Hero amber-hair’d,A golden cup bearing with richest wineReplete in his right hand, follow’d them forth,That not without libation first perform’dThey might depart; he stood before the steeds,And drinking first, thus, courteous, them bespake.Health to you both, young friends! and from my lipsLike greeting bear to Nestor, royal Chief,For he was ever as a father kind180To me, while the Achaians warr’d at Troy.To whom Telemachus discrete replied.And doubtless, so we will; at our returnWe will report to him, illustrious Prince!Thy ev’ry word. And oh, I would to heav’nThat reaching Ithaca, I might at homeUlysses hail as sure, as I shall henceDepart, with all benevolence by theeTreated, and rich in many a noble gift.While thus he spake, on his right hand appear’d190An eagle; in his talons pounced he boreA white-plumed goose domestic, newly ta’enFrom the house-court. Ran females all and malesClamorous after him; but he the steedsApproaching on the right, sprang into air.That sight rejoicing and with hearts reviv’dThey view’d, and thus Pisistratus his speechAmid them all to Menelaus turn’d.Now, Menelaus, think, illustrious Chief!If us, this omen, or thyself regard.200While warlike Menelaus musing stoodWhat answer fit to frame, Helen meantime,His spouse long-stoled preventing him, began.Hear me; for I will answer as the GodsTeach me, and as I think shall come to pass.As he, descending from his place of birthThe mountains, caught our pamper’d goose away,So shall Ulysses, after many woesAnd wand’rings to his home restored, avengeHis wrongs, or even now is at his home210For all those suitors sowing seeds of woe.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Oh grant it Jove, Juno’s high-thund’ring mate!So will I, there arrived, with vow and pray’rThee worship, as thou wert, thyself, divine.He said, and lash’d the coursers; fiery theyAnd fleet, sprang through the city to the plain.All day the yoke on either side they shook,Journeying swift; and now the setting sunTo gloomy evening had resign’d the roads,220When they to Pheræ came, and in the houseOf good Diocles slept, their lib’ral host,Whose sire Orsilochus from Alpheus sprang.But when Aurora, daughter of the Dawn,Look’d rosy from the East, yoking their steeds,They in the sumptuous chariot sat again.Forth through the vestibule they drove, and throughThe sounding portico, when Nestor’s sonPlied brisk the scourge, and willing flew the steeds.Thus whirl’d along, soon they approach’d the gates230Of Pylus, when Telemachus, his speechTurning to his companion, thus began.How, son of Nestor! shall I win from theeNot promise only, but performance kindOf my request? we are not bound aloneTo friendship by the friendship of our sires,But by equality of years, and thisOur journey shall unite us still the more.Bear me not, I intreat thee, noble friend!Beyond the ship, but drop me at her side,240Lest ancient Nestor, though against my will,Detain me in his palace through desireTo feast me, for I dread the least delay.He spake; then mused Pisistratus how bestHe might effect the wishes of his friend,And thus at length resolved; turning his steedsWith sudden deviation to the shoreHe sought the bark, and placing in the sternBoth gold and raiment, the illustrious giftsOf Menelaus, thus, in accents wing’d250With ardour, urged Telemachus away.Dispatch, embark, summon thy crew on board,Ere my arrival notice give of thineTo the old King; for vehement I knowHis temper, neither will he let thee hence,But, hasting hither, will himself enforceThy longer stay, that thou may’st not departUngifted; nought will fire his anger more.So saying, he to the Pylian city urgedHis steeds bright-maned, and at the palace-gate260Arrived of Nestor speedily; meantimeTelemachus exhorted thus his crew.My gallant friends! set all your tackle, climbThe sable bark, for I would now return.He spake; they heard him gladly, and at onceAll fill’d the benches. While his voyage heThus expedited, and beside the sternTo Pallas sacrifice perform’d and pray’d,A stranger, born remote, who had escapedFrom Argos, fugitive for blood, a seer270And of Melampus’ progeny, approach’d.Melampus, in old time, in Pylus dwelt,Mother of flocks, alike for wealth renown’dAnd the magnificence of his abode.He, flying from the far-famed Pylian King,The mightyNeleus65, migrated at lengthInto another land, whose wealth, the while,Neleus by force possess’d a year complete.Meantime, Melampus in the house enduredOf Phylacus imprisonment and woe,280And burn’d with wrath for Neleus’ daughter sakeBy fell Erynnis kindled in his heart.But, ’scaping death, he drove the lowing beevesFrom Phylace to Pylus, well avengedHis num’rous injuries at Neleus’ handsSustain’d, and gave into his brother’s armsKing Neleus’ daughter fair, the promis’d bride.To Argos steed-renown’d he journey’d next,There destin’d to inhabit and to ruleMultitudes of Achaians. In that land290He married, built a palace, and becameFather of two brave sons, AntiphatesAnd Mantius; to Antiphates was bornThe brave Oïcleus; from Oïcleus sprangAmphiaraüs, demagogue renown’d,Whom with all tenderness, and as a friendAlike the Thund’rer and Apollo prized;Yet reach’d he not the bounds of hoary age.But by his mercenary consort’s arts66Persuaded, met his destiny at Thebes.300He ’gat Alcmæon and Amphilocus.Mantius was also father of two sons,Clytus and Polyphides. Clytus pass’dFrom earth to heav’n, and dwells among the Gods,Stol’n by Aurora for his beauty’s sake.But (brave Amphiaraüs once deceased)Phœbus exalted Polyphides farAbove all others in the prophet’s part.He, anger’d by his father, roam’d awayTo Hyperesia, where he dwelt renown’d310Throughout all lands the oracle of all.His son, named Theoclymenus, was heWho now approach’d; he found TelemachusLibation off’ring in his bark, and pray’r,And in wing’d accents ardent him address’d.Ah, friend! since sacrificing in this placeI find thee, by these sacred rites and thoseWhom thou ador’st, and by thy own dear life,And by the lives of these thy marinersI beg true answer; hide not what I ask.320Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.I will inform thee, stranger! and will solveThy questions with much truth. I am by birthIthacan, and Ulysses was my sire.But he hath perish’d by a woeful death,And I, believing it, with these have plow’dThe ocean hither, int’rested to learnA father’s fate long absent from his home.Then answer’d godlike Theoclymenus.330I also am a wand’rer, having slainA man of my own tribe; brethren and friendsNum’rous had he in Argos steed-renown’d,And pow’rful are the Achaians dwelling there.From them, through terrour of impending death,I fly, a banish’d man henceforth for ever.Ah save a suppliant fugitive! lest deathO’ertake me, for I doubt not their pursuit.Whom thus Telemachus answer’d discrete.I shall not, be assured, since thou desir’st340To join me, chace thee from my bark away.Follow me, therefore, and with us partake,In Ithaca, what best the land affords.So saying, he at the stranger’s hand receivedHis spear, which on the deck he lay’d, then climb’dHimself the bark, and, seated in the stern,At his own side placed Theoclymenus.They cast the hawsers loose; then with loud voiceTelemachus exhorted all to handThe tackle, whom the sailors prompt obey’d.350The tall mast heaving, in its socket deepThey lodg’d it, and its cordage braced secure,Then, straining at the halyards, hoised the sail.Fair wind, and blowing fresh through æther pureMinerva sent them, that the bark might runHer nimblest course through all the briny way.Now sank the sun, and dusky ev’ning dimm’dThe waves, when, driven by propitious Jove,His bark stood right for Pheræ; thence she stretch’dTo sacred Elis where the Epeans rule,360And through the sharp Echinades he nextSteer’d her, uncertain whether fate ordain’dHis life or death, surprizal or escape.Meantime Ulysses and the swine-herd ateTheir cottage-mess, and the assistant swainsTheirs also; and when hunger now and thirstHad ceased in all, Ulysses thus began,Proving the swine-herd, whether friendly still,And anxious for his good, he would intreatHis stay, or thence hasten him to the town.370Eumæus, and all ye his servants, hear!It is my purpose, lest I wear thee out,Thee and thy friends, to seek at early dawnThe city, there to beg—But give me firstNeedful instructions, and a trusty guideWho may conduct me thither; there my taskMust be to roam the streets; some hand humanePerchance shall give me a small pittance there,A little bread, and a few drops to drink.Ulysses’ palace I shall also seek,380And to discrete Penelope reportMy tidings; neither shall I fail to mixWith those imperious suitors, who, themselvesFull-fed, may spare perhaps some boon to me.Me shall they find, in whatsoe’er they wishTheir ready servitor, for (understandAnd mark me well) the herald of the skies,Hermes, from whom all actions of mankindTheir grace receive and polish, is my friend,So that in menial offices I fear390No rival, whether I be called to heapThe hearth with fuel, or dry wood to cleave,To roast, to carve, or to distribute wine,As oft the poor are wont who serve the great.To whom, Eumæus! at those words displeased,Thou didst reply. Gods! how could such a thoughtPossess thee, stranger? surely thy resolveIs altogether fixt to perish there,If thou indeed hast purposed with that throngTo mix, whose riot and outrageous acts400Of violence echo through the vault of heav’n.None, such as thou, servethem; their servitorsAre youths well-cloak’d, well-vested; sleek their heads,And smug their countenances; such aloneAre their attendants, and the polish’d boardsGroan overcharg’d with bread, with flesh, with wine.Rest here content; for neither me nor theseThou weariest aught, and when Ulysses’ sonShall come, he will with vest and mantle fairCloath thee, and send thee whither most thou would’st.410To whom Ulysses, toil-inured.I wish thee, O Eumæus! dear to JoveAs thou art dear to me, for this reprieveVouchsafed me kind, from wand’ring and from woe!No worse condition is of mortal manThan his who wanders; for the poor man, driv’nBy woe and by misfortune homeless forth,A thousand mis’ries, day by day, endures.Since thou detain’st me, then, and bidd’st me waitHis coming, tell me if the father still420Of famed Ulysses live, whom, going hence,He left so nearly on the verge of life?And lives his mother? or have both deceasedAlready, and descended to the shades?To whom the master swine-herd thus replied.I will inform thee, and with strictest truth,Of all that thou hast ask’d. Laertes lives,But supplication off’ring to the GodsCeaseless, to free him from a weary life,So deeply his long-absent son he mourns,430And the dear consort of his early youth,Whose death is his chief sorrow, and hath broughtOld age on him, or ere its date arrived.She died of sorrow for her glorious son,And died deplorably;67may never friendOf mine, or benefactor die as she!While yet she liv’d, dejected as she was,I found it yet some solace to converseWith her, who rear’d me in my childish days,Together with her lovely youngest-born440The Princess Ctimena; for side by sideWe grew, and I, scarce honour’d less than she.But soon as our delightful prime we bothAttain’d, to Samos her they sent, a bride,And were requited with rich dow’r; but meCloath’d handsomely with tunic and with vest,And with fair sandals furnish’d, to the fieldShe order’d forth, yet loved me still the more.I miss her kindness now; but gracious heav’nProspers the work on which I here attend;450Hence have I food, and hence I drink, and henceRefresh, sometimes, a worthy guest like thee.But kindness none experience I, or can,From fair Penelope (my mistress now)In word or action, so is the house curs’dWith that lewd throng. Glad would the servants beMight they approach their mistress, and receiveAdvice from her; glad too to eat and drink,And somewhat bear each to his rural home,For perquisites are ev’ry servant’s joy.460Then answer thus, Ulysses wise return’d.Alas! good swain, Eumæus, how remoteFrom friends and country wast thou forced to roamEv’n in thy infancy! But tell me true.The city where thy parents dwelt, did foesPillage it? or did else some hostile bandSurprizing thee alone, on herd or flockAttendant, bear thee with them o’er the Deep,And sell thee at this Hero’s house, who pay’dDoubtless fortheeno sordid price or small?470To whom the master swine-herd in reply.Stranger! since thou art curious to be toldMy story, silent listen, and thy wineAt leisure quaff. The nights are longest now,And such as time for sleep afford, and timeFor pleasant conf’rence; neither were it goodThat thou should’st to thy couch before thy hour,Since even sleep is hurtful, in excess.Whoever here is weary, and desiresEarly repose, let him depart to rest,480And, at the peep of day, when he hath fedSufficiently, drive forth my master’s herd;But we with wine and a well-furnish’d boardSupplied, will solace mutually deriveFrom recollection of our sufferings past;For who hath much endured, and wander’d far,Finds the recital ev’n of sorrow sweet.Now hear thy question satisfied; attend!There is an island (thou hast heard, perchance,Of such an isle) named Syria;68it is placed490Above Ortigia, and a dial owns69True to the tropic changes of the year.No great extent she boasts, yet is she richIn cattle and in flocks, in wheat and wine.No famine knows that people, or diseaseNoisome, of all that elsewhere seize the raceOf miserable man; but when old ageSteals on the citizens, Apollo, arm’dWith silver bow and bright Diana come,Whose gentle shafts dismiss them soon to rest.500Two cities share between them all the isle,And both were subject to my father’s swayCtesius Ormenides, a godlike Chief.It chanced that from Phœnicia, famed for skillIn arts marine, a vessel thither cameBy sharpers mann’d, and laden deep with toys.Now, in my father’s family abodeA fair Phœnician, tall, full-sized, and skill’dIn works of elegance, whom they beguiled.While she wash’d linen on the beach, beside510The ship, a certain mariner of thoseSeduced her; for all women, ev’n the wiseAnd sober, feeble prove by love assail’d.Who was she, he enquired, and whence? nor sheScrupled to tell at once her father’s home.I am of Sidon,70famous for her worksIn brass and steel; daughter of Arybas,Who rolls in affluence; Taphian pirates thenceStole me returning from the field, from whomThis Chief procured me at no little cost.520Then answer thus her paramour return’d.Wilt thou not hence to Sidon in our ship,That thou may’st once more visit the abodeOf thy own wealthy parents, and themselves?For still they live, and still are wealthy deem’d.To whom the woman. Even that might be,Would ye, ye seamen, by a solemn oathAssure me of a safe conveyance home.Then sware the mariners as she required,And, when their oath was ended, thus again530The woman of Phœnicia them bespake.Now, silence! no man, henceforth, of you allAccost me, though he meet me on the road,Or at yon fountain; lest some tattler runWith tidings home to my old master’s ear,Who, with suspicion touch’d, maymeconfineIn cruel bonds, and death contrive foryou.But be ye close; purchase your stores in haste;And when your vessel shall be freighted full,Quick send me notice, for I mean to bring540What gold soever opportune I find,And will my passage cheerfully defrayWith still another moveable. I nurseThe good man’s son, an urchin shrewd, of ageTo scamper at my side; him will I bring,Whom at some foreign market ye shall proveSaleable at what price soe’er ye will.So saying, she to my father’s house return’d.They, there abiding the whole year, their shipWith purchased goods freighted of ev’ry kind,550And when, her lading now complete, she layFor sea prepared, their messenger arrivedTo summon down the woman to the shore.A mariner of theirs, subtle and shrewd,Then, ent’ring at my father’s gate, producedA splendid collar, gold with amber strung.My mother (then at home) with all her maidsHandling and gazing on it with delight,Proposed to purchase it, and he the nodSignificant, gave unobserv’d, the while,560To the Phœnician woman, and return’d.She, thus informed, leading me by the handWent forth, and finding in the vestibuleThe cups and tables which my father’s guestsHad used, (but they were to the forum goneFor converse with their friends assembled there)Convey’d three cups into her bosom-folds,And bore them off, whom I a thoughtless childAccompanied, at the decline of day,When dusky evening had embrown’d the shore.570We, stepping nimbly on, soon reach’d the portRenown’d, where that Phœnician vessel lay.They shipp’d us both, and all embarking cleav’dTheir liquid road, by favourable gales,Jove’s gift, impell’d. Six days we day and nightContinual sailed, but when Saturnian JoveNow bade the sev’nth bright morn illume the skies,Then, shaft-arm’d Dian struck the woman dead.At once she pitch’d headlong into the bilgeLike a sea-coot, whence heaving her again,580The seamen gave her to be fishes’ food,And I survived to mourn her. But the windsAnd rolling billows them bore to the coastOf Ithaca, where with his proper goodsLaertes bought me. By such means it chancedThat e’er I saw the isle in which I dwell.To whom Ulysses, glorious Chief, replied.Eumæus! thou hast moved me much, thy woesEnumerating thus at large. But JoveHath neighbour’d all thy evil with this good,590That after num’rous sorrows thou hast reach’dThe house of a kind master, at whose handsThy sustenance is sure, and here thou lead’stA tranquil life; but I have late arrived,City after city of the world explored.Thus mutual they conferr’d, nor leisure foundSave for short sleep, by morning soon surprized.Meantime the comrades of TelemachusApproaching land, cast loose the sail, and lower’dAlert the mast, then oar’d the vessel in.600The anchors heav’d aground,71and hawsers tiedSecure, themselves, forth-issuing on the shore,Breakfast prepared, and charged their cups with wine.When neither hunger now, nor thirst remainedUnsatisfied, Telemachus began.Push ye the sable bark without delayHome to the city. I will to the fieldAmong my shepherds, and, (my rural worksSurvey’d,) at eve will to the town return.To-morrow will I set before you wine610And plenteous viands, wages of your toil.To whom the godlike Theoclymenus.Whither must I, my son? who, of the ChiefsOf rugged Ithaca, shall harbour me?Shall I to thine and to thy mother’s house?Then thus Telemachus, discrete, replied.I would invite thee to proceed at onceTo our abode, since nought should fail thee thereOf kind reception, but it were a courseNow not adviseable; for I must myself,620Be absent, neither would my mother’s eyesBehold thee, so unfrequent she appearsBefore the suitors, shunning whom, she sitsWeaving continual at the palace-top.But I will name to thee another ChiefWhom thou may’st seek, Eurymachus, the sonRenown’d of prudent Polybus, whom allThe people here reverence as a God.Far noblest of them all is he, and seeksMore ardent than his rivals far, to wed630My mother, and to fill my father’s throne.But, He who dwells above, Jove only knowsIf some disastrous day be not ordain’dFor them, or ere those nuptials shall arrive.While thus he spake, at his right hand appear’d,Messenger of Apollo, on full wing,A falcon; in his pounces clench’d he boreA dove, which rending, down he pour’d her plumesBetween the galley and Telemachus.Then, calling him apart, the prophet lock’d640His hand in his, and thus explain’d the sign.Not undirected by the Gods his flightOn our right hand, Telemachus! this hawkHath wing’d propitious; soon as I perceivedI knew him ominous—In all the isleNo family of a more royal noteThan yours is found, and yours shall still prevail.Whom thus Telemachus answer’d discrete.Grant heav’n, my guest! that this good word of thineFail not, and soon thou shalt such bounty share650And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.Then, to Piræus thus, his friend approved.Piræus, son of Clytius! (for of allMy followers to the shore of Pylus, noneMore prompt than thou hath my desires perform’d)Now also to thy own abode conductThis stranger, whom with hospitable careCherish and honour till myself arrive.To whom Piræus answer’d, spear-renown’d.660Telemachus! however long thy stay,Punctual I will attend him, and no wantOf hospitality shall he find with me.So saying, he climb’d the ship, then bade the crewEmbarking also, cast the hawsers loose,And each, obedient, to his bench repair’d.Meantime Telemachus his sandals bound,And lifted from the deck his glitt’ring spear.Then, as Telemachus had bidden them,Son of divine Ulysses, casting loose670The hawsers, forth they push’d into the DeepAnd sought the city, while with nimble paceProceeding thence, Telemachus attain’dThe cottage soon where good Eumæus slept,The swine-herd, faithful to his num’rous charge.65Iphyclus the son of Phylacus had seized and detained cattle belonging to Neleus; Neleus ordered his nephew Melampus to recover them, and as security for his obedience seized on a considerable part of his possessions. Melampus attempted the service, failed, and was cast into prison; but at length escaping, accomplished his errand, vanquished Neleus in battle, and carried off his daughter Pero, whom Neleus had promised to the brother of Melampus, but had afterward refused her.66His wife Eryphyle, bribed by Polynices, persuaded him, though aware that death awaited him at that city, to go to Thebes, where he fell accordingly.67She is said to have hanged herself.68Not improbably the isthmus of Syracuse, an island, perhaps, or peninsula at that period, or at least imagined to be such by Homer. The birth of Diana gave fame to Ortygia. F.69Ὅθι τροπαὶ ἠελίοιο—The Translator has rendered the passage according to that interpretation of it to which several of the best expositors incline. Nothing can be so absurd as to suppose that Homer, so correct in his geography, could mean to place a Mediterranean island under the Tropic.70A principal city of Phœnicia.71The anchors were lodged on the shore, not plunged as ours.

Telemachus, admonished by Minerva, takes leave of Menelaus, but ere he sails, is accosted by Theoclymenos, a prophet of Argos, whom at his earnest request he takes on board. In the meantime Eumæus relates to Ulysses the means by which he came to Ithaca. Telemachus arriving there, gives orders for the return of his bark to the city, and repairs himself to Eumæus.

Meantime to Lacedæmon’s spacious valeMinerva went, that she might summon thenceUlysses’ glorious son to his own home.Arrived, she found Telemachus reposedAnd Nestor’s son beneath the vestibuleOf Menelaus, mighty Chief; she sawPisistratus in bands of gentle sleepFast-bound, but not Telemachus; his mindNo rest enjoy’d, by filial cares disturb’dAmid the silent night, when, drawing near10To his couch side, the Goddess thus began.Thou canst no longer prudently remainA wand’rer here, Telemachus! thy homeAbandon’d, and those haughty suitors leftWithin thy walls; fear lest, partition madeOf thy possessions, they devour the whole,And in the end thy voyage bootless prove.Delay not; from brave Menelaus askDismission hence, that thou may’st find at homeThy spotless mother, whom her brethren urge20And her own father even now to wedEurymachus, in gifts and in amountOf proffer’d dow’r superior to them all.Some treasure, else, shall haply from thy houseBe taken, such as thou wilt grudge to spare.For well thou know’st how woman is disposed;Her whole anxiety is to encreaseHis substance whom she weds; no care hath sheOf her first children, or remembers moreThe buried husband of her virgin choice.30Returning then, to her of all thy trainWhom thou shalt most approve, the charge commitOf thy concerns domestic, till the GodsThemselves shall guide thee to a noble wife.Hear also this, and mark it. In the frithSamos the rude, and Ithaca between,The chief of all her suitors thy returnIn vigilant ambush wait, with strong desireTo slay thee, ere thou reach thy native shore,But shall not, as I judge, till the earth hide40Many a lewd reveller at thy expence.Yet, steer thy galley from those isles afar,And voyage make by night; some guardian GodShall save thee, and shall send thee prosp’rous gales.Then, soon as thou attain’st the nearest shoreOf Ithaca, dispatching to the townThy bark with all thy people, seek at onceThe swine-herd; for Eumæus is thy friend.There sleep, and send him forth into the townWith tidings to Penelope, that safe50Thou art restored from Pylus home again.She said, and sought th’ Olympian heights sublime.Then, with his heel shaking him, he awokeThe son of Nestor, whom he thus address’d.Rise, Nestor’s son, Pisistratus! lead forthThe steeds, and yoke them. We must now depart.To whom the son of Nestor thus replied.Telemachus! what haste soe’er we feel,We can by no means prudently attemptTo drive by night, and soon it will be dawn.60Stay, therefore, till the Hero, Atreus’ son,Spear-practis’d Menelaus shall his giftsPlace in the chariot, and with kind farewellDismiss thee; for the guest in mem’ry holdsThrough life, the host who treats him as a friend.Scarce had he spoken, when the golden dawnAppearing, Menelaus, from the sideOf beauteous Helen ris’n, their bed approach’d,Whose coming when Telemachus perceived,Cloathing himself hastily in his vest70Magnificent, and o’er his shoulders broadCasting his graceful mantle, at the doorHe met the Hero, whom he thus address’d.Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown’d!Dismiss me hence to Ithaca again,My native isle, for I desire to go.Him answer’d Menelaus famed in arms.Telemachus! I will not long delayThy wish’d return. I disapprove alikeThe host whose assiduity extreme80Distresses, and whose negligence offends;The middle course is best; alike we err,Him thrusting forth whose wish is to remain,And hind’ring the impatient to depart.This only is true kindness—To regaleThe present guest, and speed him when he would.Yet stay, till thou shalt see my splendid giftsPlaced in thy chariot, and till I commandMy women from our present stores to spreadThe table with a plentiful repast.90For both the honour of the guest demands,And his convenience also, that he eatSufficient, ent’ring on a length of road.But if through Hellas thou wilt take thy wayAnd traverse Argos, I will, then, myselfAttend thee; thou shalt journey with my steedsBeneath thy yoke, and I will be thy guideTo many a city, whence we shall not goUngratified, but shall in each receiveSome gift at least, tripod, or charger bright,100Or golden chalice, or a pair of mules.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown’d!I would at once depart, (for guardian noneOf my possessions have I left behind)Lest, while I seek my father, I be lostMyself, or lose what I should grudge to spare.Which when the valiant Menelaus heard,He bade his spouse and maidens spread the boardAt once with remnants of the last regale.110Then Eteoneus came, Boetheus’ sonNewly aris’n, for nigh at hand he dwelt,Whom Menelaus bade kindle the fireBy which to dress their food, and he obey’d.He next, himself his fragrant chamber sought,Not sole, but by his spouse and by his sonAttended, Megapenthes. There arrivedWhere all his treasures lay, Atrides, first,Took forth, himself, a goblet, then consign’dTo his son’s hand an argent beaker bright.120Meantime, beside her coffers Helen stoodWhere lay her variegated robes, fair worksOf her own hand. Producing one, in sizeAnd in magnificence the chief, a starFor splendour, and the lowest placed of all,Loveliest of her sex, she bore it thence.Then, all proceeding through the house, they soughtTelemachus again, whom reaching, thusThe Hero of the golden locks began.May Jove the Thunderer, dread Juno’s mate,130Grant thee, Telemachus! such voyage homeAs thy own heart desires! accept from allMy stores selected as the richest farAnd noblest gift for finish’d beauty—This.I give thee wrought elaborate a cup,Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold.It is the work of Vulcan, which to meThe Hero Phædimus imparted, KingOf the Sidonians, when, on my return,Beneath his roof I lodg’d. I make it thine.140So saying, the Hero, Atreus’ son, the cupPlaced in his hands, and Megapenthes setBefore him, next, the argent beaker bright;But lovely Helen drawing nigh, the robePresented to him, whom she thus address’d.I also give thee, oh my son, a gift,Which seeing, thou shalt think on her whose handsWrought it; a present on thy nuptial dayFor thy fair spouse; meantime, repose it safeIn thy own mother’s keeping. Now, farewell!150Prosp’rous and happy be thy voyage home!She ceas’d, and gave it to him, who the giftAccepted glad, and in the chariot-chestPisistratus the Hero all disposed,Admiring them the while. They, following, next,The Hero Menelaus to his hallEach on his couch or on his throne reposed.A maiden, then, with golden ewer chargedAnd silver bowl, pour’d water on their hands,And spread the polish’d table, which with food160Various, selected from her present stores,The mistress of the household charge supplied.Boetheus’ son stood carver, and to eachHis portion gave, while Megapenthes, sonOf glorious Menelaus, serv’d the cup.Then, all with outstretch’d hands the feast assail’d,And when nor hunger more nor thirst of wineThey felt, Telemachus and Nestor’s sonYoked the swift steeds, and, taking each his seatIn the resplendent chariot, drove at once170Right through the sounding portico abroad.But Menelaus, Hero amber-hair’d,A golden cup bearing with richest wineReplete in his right hand, follow’d them forth,That not without libation first perform’dThey might depart; he stood before the steeds,And drinking first, thus, courteous, them bespake.Health to you both, young friends! and from my lipsLike greeting bear to Nestor, royal Chief,For he was ever as a father kind180To me, while the Achaians warr’d at Troy.To whom Telemachus discrete replied.And doubtless, so we will; at our returnWe will report to him, illustrious Prince!Thy ev’ry word. And oh, I would to heav’nThat reaching Ithaca, I might at homeUlysses hail as sure, as I shall henceDepart, with all benevolence by theeTreated, and rich in many a noble gift.While thus he spake, on his right hand appear’d190An eagle; in his talons pounced he boreA white-plumed goose domestic, newly ta’enFrom the house-court. Ran females all and malesClamorous after him; but he the steedsApproaching on the right, sprang into air.That sight rejoicing and with hearts reviv’dThey view’d, and thus Pisistratus his speechAmid them all to Menelaus turn’d.Now, Menelaus, think, illustrious Chief!If us, this omen, or thyself regard.200While warlike Menelaus musing stoodWhat answer fit to frame, Helen meantime,His spouse long-stoled preventing him, began.Hear me; for I will answer as the GodsTeach me, and as I think shall come to pass.As he, descending from his place of birthThe mountains, caught our pamper’d goose away,So shall Ulysses, after many woesAnd wand’rings to his home restored, avengeHis wrongs, or even now is at his home210For all those suitors sowing seeds of woe.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Oh grant it Jove, Juno’s high-thund’ring mate!So will I, there arrived, with vow and pray’rThee worship, as thou wert, thyself, divine.He said, and lash’d the coursers; fiery theyAnd fleet, sprang through the city to the plain.All day the yoke on either side they shook,Journeying swift; and now the setting sunTo gloomy evening had resign’d the roads,220When they to Pheræ came, and in the houseOf good Diocles slept, their lib’ral host,Whose sire Orsilochus from Alpheus sprang.But when Aurora, daughter of the Dawn,Look’d rosy from the East, yoking their steeds,They in the sumptuous chariot sat again.Forth through the vestibule they drove, and throughThe sounding portico, when Nestor’s sonPlied brisk the scourge, and willing flew the steeds.Thus whirl’d along, soon they approach’d the gates230Of Pylus, when Telemachus, his speechTurning to his companion, thus began.How, son of Nestor! shall I win from theeNot promise only, but performance kindOf my request? we are not bound aloneTo friendship by the friendship of our sires,But by equality of years, and thisOur journey shall unite us still the more.Bear me not, I intreat thee, noble friend!Beyond the ship, but drop me at her side,240Lest ancient Nestor, though against my will,Detain me in his palace through desireTo feast me, for I dread the least delay.He spake; then mused Pisistratus how bestHe might effect the wishes of his friend,And thus at length resolved; turning his steedsWith sudden deviation to the shoreHe sought the bark, and placing in the sternBoth gold and raiment, the illustrious giftsOf Menelaus, thus, in accents wing’d250With ardour, urged Telemachus away.Dispatch, embark, summon thy crew on board,Ere my arrival notice give of thineTo the old King; for vehement I knowHis temper, neither will he let thee hence,But, hasting hither, will himself enforceThy longer stay, that thou may’st not departUngifted; nought will fire his anger more.So saying, he to the Pylian city urgedHis steeds bright-maned, and at the palace-gate260Arrived of Nestor speedily; meantimeTelemachus exhorted thus his crew.My gallant friends! set all your tackle, climbThe sable bark, for I would now return.He spake; they heard him gladly, and at onceAll fill’d the benches. While his voyage heThus expedited, and beside the sternTo Pallas sacrifice perform’d and pray’d,A stranger, born remote, who had escapedFrom Argos, fugitive for blood, a seer270And of Melampus’ progeny, approach’d.Melampus, in old time, in Pylus dwelt,Mother of flocks, alike for wealth renown’dAnd the magnificence of his abode.He, flying from the far-famed Pylian King,The mightyNeleus65, migrated at lengthInto another land, whose wealth, the while,Neleus by force possess’d a year complete.Meantime, Melampus in the house enduredOf Phylacus imprisonment and woe,280And burn’d with wrath for Neleus’ daughter sakeBy fell Erynnis kindled in his heart.But, ’scaping death, he drove the lowing beevesFrom Phylace to Pylus, well avengedHis num’rous injuries at Neleus’ handsSustain’d, and gave into his brother’s armsKing Neleus’ daughter fair, the promis’d bride.To Argos steed-renown’d he journey’d next,There destin’d to inhabit and to ruleMultitudes of Achaians. In that land290He married, built a palace, and becameFather of two brave sons, AntiphatesAnd Mantius; to Antiphates was bornThe brave Oïcleus; from Oïcleus sprangAmphiaraüs, demagogue renown’d,Whom with all tenderness, and as a friendAlike the Thund’rer and Apollo prized;Yet reach’d he not the bounds of hoary age.But by his mercenary consort’s arts66Persuaded, met his destiny at Thebes.300He ’gat Alcmæon and Amphilocus.Mantius was also father of two sons,Clytus and Polyphides. Clytus pass’dFrom earth to heav’n, and dwells among the Gods,Stol’n by Aurora for his beauty’s sake.But (brave Amphiaraüs once deceased)Phœbus exalted Polyphides farAbove all others in the prophet’s part.He, anger’d by his father, roam’d awayTo Hyperesia, where he dwelt renown’d310Throughout all lands the oracle of all.His son, named Theoclymenus, was heWho now approach’d; he found TelemachusLibation off’ring in his bark, and pray’r,And in wing’d accents ardent him address’d.Ah, friend! since sacrificing in this placeI find thee, by these sacred rites and thoseWhom thou ador’st, and by thy own dear life,And by the lives of these thy marinersI beg true answer; hide not what I ask.320Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.I will inform thee, stranger! and will solveThy questions with much truth. I am by birthIthacan, and Ulysses was my sire.But he hath perish’d by a woeful death,And I, believing it, with these have plow’dThe ocean hither, int’rested to learnA father’s fate long absent from his home.Then answer’d godlike Theoclymenus.330I also am a wand’rer, having slainA man of my own tribe; brethren and friendsNum’rous had he in Argos steed-renown’d,And pow’rful are the Achaians dwelling there.From them, through terrour of impending death,I fly, a banish’d man henceforth for ever.Ah save a suppliant fugitive! lest deathO’ertake me, for I doubt not their pursuit.Whom thus Telemachus answer’d discrete.I shall not, be assured, since thou desir’st340To join me, chace thee from my bark away.Follow me, therefore, and with us partake,In Ithaca, what best the land affords.So saying, he at the stranger’s hand receivedHis spear, which on the deck he lay’d, then climb’dHimself the bark, and, seated in the stern,At his own side placed Theoclymenus.They cast the hawsers loose; then with loud voiceTelemachus exhorted all to handThe tackle, whom the sailors prompt obey’d.350The tall mast heaving, in its socket deepThey lodg’d it, and its cordage braced secure,Then, straining at the halyards, hoised the sail.Fair wind, and blowing fresh through æther pureMinerva sent them, that the bark might runHer nimblest course through all the briny way.Now sank the sun, and dusky ev’ning dimm’dThe waves, when, driven by propitious Jove,His bark stood right for Pheræ; thence she stretch’dTo sacred Elis where the Epeans rule,360And through the sharp Echinades he nextSteer’d her, uncertain whether fate ordain’dHis life or death, surprizal or escape.Meantime Ulysses and the swine-herd ateTheir cottage-mess, and the assistant swainsTheirs also; and when hunger now and thirstHad ceased in all, Ulysses thus began,Proving the swine-herd, whether friendly still,And anxious for his good, he would intreatHis stay, or thence hasten him to the town.370Eumæus, and all ye his servants, hear!It is my purpose, lest I wear thee out,Thee and thy friends, to seek at early dawnThe city, there to beg—But give me firstNeedful instructions, and a trusty guideWho may conduct me thither; there my taskMust be to roam the streets; some hand humanePerchance shall give me a small pittance there,A little bread, and a few drops to drink.Ulysses’ palace I shall also seek,380And to discrete Penelope reportMy tidings; neither shall I fail to mixWith those imperious suitors, who, themselvesFull-fed, may spare perhaps some boon to me.Me shall they find, in whatsoe’er they wishTheir ready servitor, for (understandAnd mark me well) the herald of the skies,Hermes, from whom all actions of mankindTheir grace receive and polish, is my friend,So that in menial offices I fear390No rival, whether I be called to heapThe hearth with fuel, or dry wood to cleave,To roast, to carve, or to distribute wine,As oft the poor are wont who serve the great.To whom, Eumæus! at those words displeased,Thou didst reply. Gods! how could such a thoughtPossess thee, stranger? surely thy resolveIs altogether fixt to perish there,If thou indeed hast purposed with that throngTo mix, whose riot and outrageous acts400Of violence echo through the vault of heav’n.None, such as thou, servethem; their servitorsAre youths well-cloak’d, well-vested; sleek their heads,And smug their countenances; such aloneAre their attendants, and the polish’d boardsGroan overcharg’d with bread, with flesh, with wine.Rest here content; for neither me nor theseThou weariest aught, and when Ulysses’ sonShall come, he will with vest and mantle fairCloath thee, and send thee whither most thou would’st.410To whom Ulysses, toil-inured.I wish thee, O Eumæus! dear to JoveAs thou art dear to me, for this reprieveVouchsafed me kind, from wand’ring and from woe!No worse condition is of mortal manThan his who wanders; for the poor man, driv’nBy woe and by misfortune homeless forth,A thousand mis’ries, day by day, endures.Since thou detain’st me, then, and bidd’st me waitHis coming, tell me if the father still420Of famed Ulysses live, whom, going hence,He left so nearly on the verge of life?And lives his mother? or have both deceasedAlready, and descended to the shades?To whom the master swine-herd thus replied.I will inform thee, and with strictest truth,Of all that thou hast ask’d. Laertes lives,But supplication off’ring to the GodsCeaseless, to free him from a weary life,So deeply his long-absent son he mourns,430And the dear consort of his early youth,Whose death is his chief sorrow, and hath broughtOld age on him, or ere its date arrived.She died of sorrow for her glorious son,And died deplorably;67may never friendOf mine, or benefactor die as she!While yet she liv’d, dejected as she was,I found it yet some solace to converseWith her, who rear’d me in my childish days,Together with her lovely youngest-born440The Princess Ctimena; for side by sideWe grew, and I, scarce honour’d less than she.But soon as our delightful prime we bothAttain’d, to Samos her they sent, a bride,And were requited with rich dow’r; but meCloath’d handsomely with tunic and with vest,And with fair sandals furnish’d, to the fieldShe order’d forth, yet loved me still the more.I miss her kindness now; but gracious heav’nProspers the work on which I here attend;450Hence have I food, and hence I drink, and henceRefresh, sometimes, a worthy guest like thee.But kindness none experience I, or can,From fair Penelope (my mistress now)In word or action, so is the house curs’dWith that lewd throng. Glad would the servants beMight they approach their mistress, and receiveAdvice from her; glad too to eat and drink,And somewhat bear each to his rural home,For perquisites are ev’ry servant’s joy.460Then answer thus, Ulysses wise return’d.Alas! good swain, Eumæus, how remoteFrom friends and country wast thou forced to roamEv’n in thy infancy! But tell me true.The city where thy parents dwelt, did foesPillage it? or did else some hostile bandSurprizing thee alone, on herd or flockAttendant, bear thee with them o’er the Deep,And sell thee at this Hero’s house, who pay’dDoubtless fortheeno sordid price or small?470To whom the master swine-herd in reply.Stranger! since thou art curious to be toldMy story, silent listen, and thy wineAt leisure quaff. The nights are longest now,And such as time for sleep afford, and timeFor pleasant conf’rence; neither were it goodThat thou should’st to thy couch before thy hour,Since even sleep is hurtful, in excess.Whoever here is weary, and desiresEarly repose, let him depart to rest,480And, at the peep of day, when he hath fedSufficiently, drive forth my master’s herd;But we with wine and a well-furnish’d boardSupplied, will solace mutually deriveFrom recollection of our sufferings past;For who hath much endured, and wander’d far,Finds the recital ev’n of sorrow sweet.Now hear thy question satisfied; attend!There is an island (thou hast heard, perchance,Of such an isle) named Syria;68it is placed490Above Ortigia, and a dial owns69True to the tropic changes of the year.No great extent she boasts, yet is she richIn cattle and in flocks, in wheat and wine.No famine knows that people, or diseaseNoisome, of all that elsewhere seize the raceOf miserable man; but when old ageSteals on the citizens, Apollo, arm’dWith silver bow and bright Diana come,Whose gentle shafts dismiss them soon to rest.500Two cities share between them all the isle,And both were subject to my father’s swayCtesius Ormenides, a godlike Chief.It chanced that from Phœnicia, famed for skillIn arts marine, a vessel thither cameBy sharpers mann’d, and laden deep with toys.Now, in my father’s family abodeA fair Phœnician, tall, full-sized, and skill’dIn works of elegance, whom they beguiled.While she wash’d linen on the beach, beside510The ship, a certain mariner of thoseSeduced her; for all women, ev’n the wiseAnd sober, feeble prove by love assail’d.Who was she, he enquired, and whence? nor sheScrupled to tell at once her father’s home.I am of Sidon,70famous for her worksIn brass and steel; daughter of Arybas,Who rolls in affluence; Taphian pirates thenceStole me returning from the field, from whomThis Chief procured me at no little cost.520Then answer thus her paramour return’d.Wilt thou not hence to Sidon in our ship,That thou may’st once more visit the abodeOf thy own wealthy parents, and themselves?For still they live, and still are wealthy deem’d.To whom the woman. Even that might be,Would ye, ye seamen, by a solemn oathAssure me of a safe conveyance home.Then sware the mariners as she required,And, when their oath was ended, thus again530The woman of Phœnicia them bespake.Now, silence! no man, henceforth, of you allAccost me, though he meet me on the road,Or at yon fountain; lest some tattler runWith tidings home to my old master’s ear,Who, with suspicion touch’d, maymeconfineIn cruel bonds, and death contrive foryou.But be ye close; purchase your stores in haste;And when your vessel shall be freighted full,Quick send me notice, for I mean to bring540What gold soever opportune I find,And will my passage cheerfully defrayWith still another moveable. I nurseThe good man’s son, an urchin shrewd, of ageTo scamper at my side; him will I bring,Whom at some foreign market ye shall proveSaleable at what price soe’er ye will.So saying, she to my father’s house return’d.They, there abiding the whole year, their shipWith purchased goods freighted of ev’ry kind,550And when, her lading now complete, she layFor sea prepared, their messenger arrivedTo summon down the woman to the shore.A mariner of theirs, subtle and shrewd,Then, ent’ring at my father’s gate, producedA splendid collar, gold with amber strung.My mother (then at home) with all her maidsHandling and gazing on it with delight,Proposed to purchase it, and he the nodSignificant, gave unobserv’d, the while,560To the Phœnician woman, and return’d.She, thus informed, leading me by the handWent forth, and finding in the vestibuleThe cups and tables which my father’s guestsHad used, (but they were to the forum goneFor converse with their friends assembled there)Convey’d three cups into her bosom-folds,And bore them off, whom I a thoughtless childAccompanied, at the decline of day,When dusky evening had embrown’d the shore.570We, stepping nimbly on, soon reach’d the portRenown’d, where that Phœnician vessel lay.They shipp’d us both, and all embarking cleav’dTheir liquid road, by favourable gales,Jove’s gift, impell’d. Six days we day and nightContinual sailed, but when Saturnian JoveNow bade the sev’nth bright morn illume the skies,Then, shaft-arm’d Dian struck the woman dead.At once she pitch’d headlong into the bilgeLike a sea-coot, whence heaving her again,580The seamen gave her to be fishes’ food,And I survived to mourn her. But the windsAnd rolling billows them bore to the coastOf Ithaca, where with his proper goodsLaertes bought me. By such means it chancedThat e’er I saw the isle in which I dwell.To whom Ulysses, glorious Chief, replied.Eumæus! thou hast moved me much, thy woesEnumerating thus at large. But JoveHath neighbour’d all thy evil with this good,590That after num’rous sorrows thou hast reach’dThe house of a kind master, at whose handsThy sustenance is sure, and here thou lead’stA tranquil life; but I have late arrived,City after city of the world explored.Thus mutual they conferr’d, nor leisure foundSave for short sleep, by morning soon surprized.Meantime the comrades of TelemachusApproaching land, cast loose the sail, and lower’dAlert the mast, then oar’d the vessel in.600The anchors heav’d aground,71and hawsers tiedSecure, themselves, forth-issuing on the shore,Breakfast prepared, and charged their cups with wine.When neither hunger now, nor thirst remainedUnsatisfied, Telemachus began.Push ye the sable bark without delayHome to the city. I will to the fieldAmong my shepherds, and, (my rural worksSurvey’d,) at eve will to the town return.To-morrow will I set before you wine610And plenteous viands, wages of your toil.To whom the godlike Theoclymenus.Whither must I, my son? who, of the ChiefsOf rugged Ithaca, shall harbour me?Shall I to thine and to thy mother’s house?Then thus Telemachus, discrete, replied.I would invite thee to proceed at onceTo our abode, since nought should fail thee thereOf kind reception, but it were a courseNow not adviseable; for I must myself,620Be absent, neither would my mother’s eyesBehold thee, so unfrequent she appearsBefore the suitors, shunning whom, she sitsWeaving continual at the palace-top.But I will name to thee another ChiefWhom thou may’st seek, Eurymachus, the sonRenown’d of prudent Polybus, whom allThe people here reverence as a God.Far noblest of them all is he, and seeksMore ardent than his rivals far, to wed630My mother, and to fill my father’s throne.But, He who dwells above, Jove only knowsIf some disastrous day be not ordain’dFor them, or ere those nuptials shall arrive.While thus he spake, at his right hand appear’d,Messenger of Apollo, on full wing,A falcon; in his pounces clench’d he boreA dove, which rending, down he pour’d her plumesBetween the galley and Telemachus.Then, calling him apart, the prophet lock’d640His hand in his, and thus explain’d the sign.Not undirected by the Gods his flightOn our right hand, Telemachus! this hawkHath wing’d propitious; soon as I perceivedI knew him ominous—In all the isleNo family of a more royal noteThan yours is found, and yours shall still prevail.Whom thus Telemachus answer’d discrete.Grant heav’n, my guest! that this good word of thineFail not, and soon thou shalt such bounty share650And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.Then, to Piræus thus, his friend approved.Piræus, son of Clytius! (for of allMy followers to the shore of Pylus, noneMore prompt than thou hath my desires perform’d)Now also to thy own abode conductThis stranger, whom with hospitable careCherish and honour till myself arrive.To whom Piræus answer’d, spear-renown’d.660Telemachus! however long thy stay,Punctual I will attend him, and no wantOf hospitality shall he find with me.So saying, he climb’d the ship, then bade the crewEmbarking also, cast the hawsers loose,And each, obedient, to his bench repair’d.Meantime Telemachus his sandals bound,And lifted from the deck his glitt’ring spear.Then, as Telemachus had bidden them,Son of divine Ulysses, casting loose670The hawsers, forth they push’d into the DeepAnd sought the city, while with nimble paceProceeding thence, Telemachus attain’dThe cottage soon where good Eumæus slept,The swine-herd, faithful to his num’rous charge.

65Iphyclus the son of Phylacus had seized and detained cattle belonging to Neleus; Neleus ordered his nephew Melampus to recover them, and as security for his obedience seized on a considerable part of his possessions. Melampus attempted the service, failed, and was cast into prison; but at length escaping, accomplished his errand, vanquished Neleus in battle, and carried off his daughter Pero, whom Neleus had promised to the brother of Melampus, but had afterward refused her.66His wife Eryphyle, bribed by Polynices, persuaded him, though aware that death awaited him at that city, to go to Thebes, where he fell accordingly.67She is said to have hanged herself.68Not improbably the isthmus of Syracuse, an island, perhaps, or peninsula at that period, or at least imagined to be such by Homer. The birth of Diana gave fame to Ortygia. F.69Ὅθι τροπαὶ ἠελίοιο—The Translator has rendered the passage according to that interpretation of it to which several of the best expositors incline. Nothing can be so absurd as to suppose that Homer, so correct in his geography, could mean to place a Mediterranean island under the Tropic.70A principal city of Phœnicia.71The anchors were lodged on the shore, not plunged as ours.

66His wife Eryphyle, bribed by Polynices, persuaded him, though aware that death awaited him at that city, to go to Thebes, where he fell accordingly.

67She is said to have hanged herself.

68Not improbably the isthmus of Syracuse, an island, perhaps, or peninsula at that period, or at least imagined to be such by Homer. The birth of Diana gave fame to Ortygia. F.

69Ὅθι τροπαὶ ἠελίοιο—The Translator has rendered the passage according to that interpretation of it to which several of the best expositors incline. Nothing can be so absurd as to suppose that Homer, so correct in his geography, could mean to place a Mediterranean island under the Tropic.

70A principal city of Phœnicia.

71The anchors were lodged on the shore, not plunged as ours.

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