BOOK XVII

BOOK XVIIARGUMENTTelemachus returns to the city, and relates to his mother the principal passages of his voyage; Ulysses, conducted by Eumæus, arrives there also, and enters among the suitors, having been known only by his old dog Argus, who dies at his feet. The curiosity of Penelope being excited by the account which Eumæus gives her of Ulysses, she orders him immediately into her presence, but Ulysses postpones the interview till evening, when the suitors having left the palace, there shall be no danger of interruption. Eumæus returns to his cottage.Now look’d Aurora from the East abroad,When the illustrious offspring of divineUlysses bound his sandals to his feet;He seiz’d his sturdy spear match’d to his gripe,And to the city meditating quickDeparture now, the swine-herd thus bespake.Father! I seek the city, to convinceMy mother of my safe return, whose tears,I judge, and lamentation shall not ceaseTill her own eyes behold me. But I lay10On thee this charge. Into the city lead,Thyself, this hapless guest, that he may begProvision there, a morsel and a dropFrom such as may, perchance, vouchsafe the boon.I cannot, vext and harass’d as I am,Feed all, and should the stranger take offence,The worse for him. Plain truth is my delight.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.Nor is it my desire to be detained.Better the mendicant in cities seeks20His dole, vouchsafe it whosoever may,Than in the villages. I am not young,Nor longer of an age that well accordsWith rural tasks, nor could I all performThat it might please a master to command.Go then, and when I shall have warm’d my limbsBefore the hearth, and when the risen sunShall somewhat chase the cold, thy servant’s taskShall be to guide me thither, as thou bidd’st,For this is a vile garb; the frosty air30Of morning would benumb me thus attired,And, as ye say, the city is remote.He ended, and Telemachus in hasteSet forth, his thoughts all teeming as he wentWith dire revenge. Soon in the palace-courtsArriving, he reclined his spear againstA column, and proceeded to the hall.Him Euryclea, first, his nurse, perceived,While on the variegated seats she spreadTheir fleecy cov’ring; swift with tearful eyes40She flew to him, and the whole female trainOf brave Ulysses swarm’d around his son,Clasping him, and his forehead and his neckKissing affectionate; then came, herself,As golden Venus or Diana fair,Forth from her chamber to her son’s embrace,The chaste Penelope; with tears she threwHer arms around him, his bright-beaming eyesAnd forehead kiss’d, and with a murmur’d plaintMaternal, in wing’d accents thus began.50Thou hast return’d, light of my eyes! my son!My lov’d Telemachus! I had no hopeTo see thee more when once thou hadst embark’dFor Pylus, privily, and with no consentFrom me obtain’d, news seeking of thy sire.But haste; unfold. Declare what thou hast seen.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Ah mother! let my sorrows rest, nor meFrom death so lately ’scaped afflict anew,But, bathed and habited in fresh attire,60With all the maidens of thy train ascendTo thy superior chamber, there to vowA perfect hecatomb to all the Gods,When Jove shall have avenged our num’rous wrongs.I seek the forum, there to introduceA guest, my follower from the Pylian shore,Whom sending forward with my noble band,I bade Piræus to his own abodeLead him, and with all kindness entertainThe stranger, till I should myself arrive.70He spake, nor flew his words useless away.She, bathed and habited in fresh attire,Vow’d a full hecatomb to all the Gods,Would Jove but recompense her num’rous wrongs.Then, spear in hand, went forth her son, two dogsFleet-footed following him. O’er all his formPallas diffused a dignity divine,And ev’ry eye gazed on him as he pass’d.The suitors throng’d him round, joy on their lipsAnd welcome, but deep mischief in their hearts.80He, shunning all that crowd, chose to himselfA seat, where Mentor sat, and Antiphus,And Halytherses, long his father’s friendsSincere, who of his voyage much enquired.Then drew Piræus nigh, leading his guestToward the forum; nor TelemachusStood long aloof, but greeted his approach,And was accosted by Piræus thus.Sir! send thy menial women to bring homeThe precious charge committed to my care,90Thy gifts at Menelaus’ hands received.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Piræus! wait; for I not yet foreseeThe upshot. Should these haughty ones effectMy death, clandestine, under my own roof,And parcel my inheritance by lot,I rather wish those treasures thine, than theirs.But should I with success plan for them allA bloody death, then, wing’d with joy, thyselfBring home those presents to thy joyful friend.100So saying, he led the anxious stranger thenceInto the royal mansion, where arrived,Each cast his mantle on a couch or throne,And plung’d his feet into a polish’d bath.There wash’d and lubricated with smooth oils,From the attendant maidens each receivedTunic and shaggy mantle. Thus attired,Forth from the baths they stepp’d, and sat again.A maiden, next, with golden ewer charged,And silver bowl, pour’d water on their hands,110And spread the polish’d table, which with foodOf all kinds, remnants of the last regale,The mistress of the household charge supplied.Meantime, beside a column of the domeHis mother, on a couch reclining, twirl’dHer slender threads. They to the furnish’d boardStretch’d forth their hands, and, hunger now and thirstBoth satisfied, Penelope began.Telemachus! I will ascend again,And will repose me on my woeful bed;120For such it hath been, and with tears of mineCeaseless bedew’d, e’er since Ulysses wentWith Atreus’ sons to Troy. For not a wordThou would’st vouchsafe me till our haughty guestsHad occupied the house again, of allThat thou hast heard (if aught indeed thou hast)Of thy long-absent father’s wish’d return.Her answer’d then Telemachus discrete.Mother, at thy request I will with truthRelate the whole. At Pylus shore arrived130We Nestor found, Chief of the Pylian race.Receiving me in his august abode,He entertain’d me with such welcome kindAs a glad father shews to his own sonLong-lost and newly found; so Nestor me,And his illustrious offspring, entertain’d,But yet assured me that he nought had heardFrom mortal lips of my magnanimous sire,Whether alive or dead; with his own steedsHe sent me, and with splendid chariot thence140To spear-famed Menelaus, Atreus’ son.There saw I Helen, by the Gods’ decreeAuth’ress of trouble both to Greece and Troy.The Hero Menelaus then enquiredWhat cause had urged me to the pleasant valeOf Lacedæmon; plainly I rehearsedThe occasion, and the Hero thus replied.Ye Gods! they are ambitious of the bedOf a brave man, however base themselves.But, as it chances when the hart hath laid150Her fawns new-yean’d and sucklings yet, to restIn some resistless lion’s den, she roams,Meantime, the hills, and in the grassy valesFeeds heedless, but the lion to his lairReturning soon, both her and hers destroys,So shall thy father, brave Ulysses, them.Jove! Pallas! and Apollo! oh that suchAs erst in well-built Lesbos, where he stroveWith Philomelides, whom wrestling, flatHe threw, when all Achaia’s sons rejoiced,160Ulysses, now, might mingle with his foes!Short life and bitter nuptials should be theirs,But thy enquiries neither indirectWill I evade, nor give thee false reply,But all that from the Ancient of the Deep73I have received will utter, hiding nought.The God declared that he had seen thy sireIn a lone island, sorrowing, and detain’dAn inmate in the grotto of the nymphCalypso, wanting also means by which170To reach the country of his birth again,For neither gallant barks nor friends had heTo speed his passage o’er the boundless waves.So Menelaus spake, the spear-renown’d.My errand thus accomplish’d, I return’d—And by the Gods with gales propitious blest,Was wafted swiftly to my native shore.He spake, and tumult in his mother’s heartSo speaking, raised. Consolatory, next,The godlike Theoclymenus began.180Consort revered of Laertiades!Little the Spartan knew, but list to me,For I will plainly prophesy and sure.Be Jove of all in heav’n my witness first,Then this thy hospitable board, and, last,The household Gods of the illustrious ChiefUlysses, at whose hearth I have arrived,74That, even now, within his native isleUlysses somewhere sits, or creeps obscure,Witness of these enormities, and seeds190Sowing of dire destruction for his foes;So sure an augury, while on the deckReclining of the gallant bark, I saw,And with loud voice proclaim’d it to thy son.Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.Grant heav’n, my guest, that this good word of thineFail not! then shalt thou soon such bounty shareAnd friendship at my hands, that at first sightWhoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.Thus they conferr’d. Meantime the suitors hurl’d200The quoit and lance on the smooth area spreadBefore Ulysses’ gate, the custom’d sceneOf their contentions, sports, and clamours rude.But when the hour of supper now approach’d,And from the pastures on all sides the sheepCame with their wonted drivers, Medon then(For he of all the heralds pleas’d them most,And waited at the board) them thus address’d.Enough of play, young princes! ent’ring nowThe house, prepare we sedulous our feast,210Since in well-timed refreshment harm is none.He spake, whose admonition pleas’d. At onceAll, rising, sought the palace; there arrived,Each cast his mantle off, which on his throneOr couch he spread, then, brisk, to slaughter fellOf many a victim; sheep and goats and brawnsThey slew, all fatted, and a pastur’d ox,Hast’ning the banquet; nor with less dispatchUlysses and Eumæus now preparedTo seek the town, when thus the swain began.220My guest! since thy fixt purpose is to seekThis day the city as my master bade,Though I, in truth, much rather wish thee hereA keeper of our herds, yet, through respectAnd rev’rence of his orders, whose reproofI dread, for masters seldom gently chide,I would be gone. Arise, let us depart,For day already is far-spent, and soonThe air of even-tide will chill thee more.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.230It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’stTo one intelligent. Let us depart,And lead, thyself, the way; but give me, first,(If thou have one already hewn) a staffTo lean on, for ye have described the roadRugged, and ofttimes dang’rous to the foot.So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his backHe cast, suspended by a leathern twist,Eumæus gratified him with a staff,And forth they went, leaving the cottage kept240By dogs and swains. He city-ward his KingLed on, in form a squalid beggar old,Halting, and in unseemly garb attired.But when, slow-travelling the craggy way,They now approach’d the town, and had attain’dThe marble fountain deep, which with its streamsPellucid all the citizens supplied,(Ithacus had that fountain framed of oldWith Neritus and Polyctor, over whichA grove of water-nourish’d alders hung250Circular on all sides, while cold the rillRan from the rock, on whose tall summit stoodThe altar of the nymphs, by all who pass’dWith sacrifice frequented, still, and pray’r)Melantheus, son of Dolius, at that fountMet them; the chosen goats of ev’ry flock,With two assistants, from the field he drove,The suitors’ supper. He, seeing them both,In surly accent boorish, such as firedUlysses with resentment, thus began.260Ay—this is well—The villain leads the vile—Thus evermore the Gods join like to like.Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither would’st conductThis morsel-hunting mendicant obscene,Defiler base of banquets? many a postShall he rub smooth that props him while he begsLean alms, sole object of his low pursuit,Who ne’er to sword or tripod yet aspired.Would’st thou afford him to me for a guardOr sweeper of my stalls, or to supply270My kids with leaves, he should on bulkier thewesSupported stand, though nourish’d but with whey.But no such useful arts hath he acquired,Nor likes he work, but rather much to extortFrom others food for his unsated maw.But mark my prophecy, for it is true,At famed Ulysses’ house should he arrive,His sides shall shatter many a footstool hurl’dAgainst them by the offended princes there.He spake, and drawing nigh, with his rais’d foot,280Insolent as he was and brutish, smoteUlysses’ haunch, yet shook not from his pathThe firm-set Chief, who, doubtful, mused awhileWhether to rush on him, and with his staffTo slay him, or uplifting him on high,Downward to dash him headlong; but his wrathRestraining, calm he suffer’d the affront.Him then Eumæus with indignant lookRebuking, rais’d his hands, and fervent pray’d.Nymphs of the fountains, progeny of Jove!290If e’er Ulysses on your altar burn’dThe thighs of fatted lambs or kidlings, grantThis my request. O let the Hero soon,Conducted by some Deity, return!So shall he quell that arrogance which safeThou now indulgest, roaming day by dayThe city, while bad shepherds mar the flocks.To whom the goat-herd answer thus return’dMelantheus. Marvellous! how rare a speechThe subtle cur hath framed! whom I will send300Far hence at a convenient time on boardMy bark, and sell him at no little gain.I would, that he who bears the silver bowAs sure might pierce Telemachus this dayIn his own house, or that the suitors might,As that same wand’rer shall return no more!He said, and them left pacing slow along,But soon, himself, at his Lord’s house arrived;There ent’ring bold, he with the suitors satOpposite to Eurymachus, for him310He valued most. The sewers his portion placedOf meat before him, and the maiden, chiefDirectress of the household gave him bread.And now, Ulysses, with the swain his friendApproach’d, when, hearing the harmonious lyre,Both stood, for Phemius had begun his song.He grasp’d the swine-herd’s hand, and thus he said.This house, Eumæus! of Ulysses seemsPassing magnificent, and to be knownWith ease for his among a thousand more.320One pile supports another, and a wallCrested with battlements surrounds the court;Firm, too, the folding doors all force of manDefy; but num’rous guests, as I perceive,Now feast within; witness the sav’ry steamFast-fuming upward, and the sounding harp,Divine associate of the festive board.To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.Thou hast well-guess’d; no wonder, thou art quickOn ev’ry theme; but let us well forecast330This business. Wilt thou, ent’ring first, thyself,The splendid mansion, with the suitors mix,Me leaving here? or shall I lead the wayWhile thou remain’st behind? yet linger not,Lest, seeing thee without, some servant strikeOr drive thee hence. Consider which were best.Him answer’d, then, the patient Hero bold.It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’stTo one intelligent. Lead thou the wayMe leaving here, for neither stripes nor blows340To me are strange. Much exercised with painIn fight and on the Deep, I have long sinceLearn’d patience. Follow, next, what follow may!But, to suppress the appetite, I deemImpossible; the stomach is a sourceOf ills to man, an avaricious gulphDestructive, which to satiate, ships are rigg’d,Seas travers’d, and fierce battles waged remote.Thus they discoursing stood; Argus the while,Ulysses’ dog, uplifted where he lay350His head and ears erect. Ulysses himHad bred long since, himself, but rarely used,Departing, first, to Ilium. Him the youthsIn other days led frequent to the chaceOf wild goat, hart and hare; but now he lodg’dA poor old cast-off, of his Lord forlorn,Where mules and oxen had before the gateMuch ordure left, with which Ulysses’ hindsShould, in due time, manure his spacious fields.There lay, with dog-devouring vermin foul360All over, Argus; soon as he perceivedLong-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his earsClapp’d close, and with his tail glad sign he gaveOf gratulation, impotent to riseAnd to approach his master as of old.Ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tearUnmark’d, and of Eumæus quick enquired.I can but wonder seeing such a dogThus lodg’d, Eumæus! beautiful in formHe is, past doubt, but whether he hath been370As fleet as fair I know not; rather suchPerchance as masters sometimes keep to graceTheir tables, nourish’d more for shew than use.To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.He is the dog of one dead far remote.But had he now such feat-performing strengthAs when Ulysses left him, going henceTo Ilium, in one moment thou shouldst mark,Astonish’d, his agility and force.He never in the sylvan deep recess380The wild beast saw that ’scaped him, and he track’dTheir steps infallible; but he hath nowNo comfort, for (the master dead afar)The heedless servants care not for his dog.Domestics, missing once their Lord’s controul,Grow wilful, and refuse their proper tasks;For whom Jove dooms to servitude, he takesAt once the half of that man’s worth away.He said, and, ent’ring at the portal, join’dThe suitors. Then his destiny released390Old Argus, soon as he had lived to seeUlysses in the twentieth year restored.Godlike Telemachus, long ere the rest,Marking the swine-herd’s entrance, with a nodSummon’d him to approach. Eumæus castHis eye around, and seeing vacant thereThe seat which the dispenser of the feastWas wont to occupy while he suppliedThe num’rous guests, planted it right beforeTelemachus, and at his table sat,400On which the herald placed for him his shareOf meat, and from the baskets gave him bread.Soon afterhim, Ulysses enter’d slowThe palace, like a squalid beggar old,Staff-propp’d, and in loose tatters foul attired.Within the portal on the ashen sillHe sat, and, seeming languid, lean’d againstA cypress pillar by the builder’s artPolish’d long since, and planted at the door.Then took Telemachus a loaf entire410Forth from the elegant basket, and of fleshA portion large as his two hands contained,And, beck’ning close the swine-herd, charged him thus.These to the stranger; whom advise to askSome dole from ev’ry suitor; bashful fearIll suits the mendicant by want oppress’d.He spake; Eumæus went, and where he satArriving, in wing’d accents thus began.Telemachus, oh stranger, sends thee these,And counsels thee to importune for more420The suitors, one by one; for bashful fearIll suits the mendicant by want oppress’d.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.Jove, King of all, grant ev’ry good on earthTo kind Telemachus, and the completeAccomplishment of all that he desires!He said, and with both hands outspread, the messReceiving as he sat, on his worn bagDisposed it at his feet. Long as the bardChaunted, he ate, and when he ceas’d to eat,430Then also ceas’d the bard divine to sing.And now ensued loud clamour in the hallAnd tumult, when Minerva, drawing nighTo Laertiades, impell’d the ChiefCrusts to collect, or any pittance smallAt ev’ry suitor’s hand, for trial’s sakeOf just and unjust; yet deliv’rance noneFrom evil she design’d for any there.From left to right75his progress he beganPetitioning, with outstretch’d hands, the throng,440As one familiar with the beggar’s art.They, pitying, gave to him, but view’d him stillWith wonder, and enquiries mutual madeWho, and whence was he? Then the goat-herd roseMelanthius, and th’ assembly thus address’d.Hear me, ye suitors of th’ illustrious Queen!This guest, of whom ye ask, I have beheldElsewhere; the swine-herd brought him; but himselfI know not, neither who nor whence he is.So he; then thus Antinoüs stern rebuked450The swine-herd. Ah, notorious as thou art,Why hast thou shewn this vagabond the wayInto the city? are we not enoughInfested with these troublers of our feasts?Deem’st it a trifle that such numbers eatAt thy Lord’s cost, and hast thou, therefore, ledThis fellow hither, found we know not where?To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.Antinoüs! though of high degree, thou speak’stNot wisely. What man to another’s house460Repairs to invite him to a feast, unlessHe be of those who by profession serveThe public, prophet, healer of disease,Ingenious artist, or some bard divineWhose music may exhilarate the guests?These, and such only, are in ev’ry landCall’d to the banquet; none invites the poor,Who much consume, and no requital yield.But thou of all the suitors roughly treat’stUlysses’ servants most, and chiefly me;470Yet thee I heed not, while the virtuous QueenDwells in this palace, and her godlike son.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Peace! answer not verbose a man like him.Antinoüs hath a tongue accustom’d muchTo tauntings, and promotes them in the rest.Then, turning to Antinoüs, quick he said—Antinoüs! as a father for his sonTakes thought, so thou for me, who bidd’st me chaseThe stranger harshly hence; but God forbid!76480Impart to him. I grudge not, but myselfExhort thee to it; neither, in this cause,Fear thou the Queen, or in the least regardWhatever menial throughout all the houseOf famed Ulysses. Ah! within thy breastDwells no such thought; thou lov’st not to impartTo others, but to gratify thyself.To whom Antinoüs answer thus return’d.High-soaring and intemp’rate in thy speechHow hast thou said, Telemachus? Would all490As much bestow on him, he should not seekAdmittance here again three months to come.So saying, he seized the stool which, banqueting,He press’d with his nice feet, and from beneathThe table forth advanced it into view.The rest all gave to him, with bread and fleshFilling his wallet, and Ulysses, now,Returning to his threshold, there to tasteThe bounty of the Greeks, paused in his wayBeside Antinoüs, whom he thus address’d.500Kind sir! vouchsafe to me! for thou appear’stNot least, but greatest of the Achaians here,And hast a kingly look. It might becomeThee therefore above others to bestow,So should I praise thee wheresoe’er I roam.I also lived the happy owner onceOf such a stately mansion, and have giv’nTo num’rous wand’rers (whencesoe’er theycame)All that they needed; I was also servedBy many, and enjoy’d all that denotes510The envied owner opulent and blest.But Jove (for so it pleas’d him) hath reducedMy all to nothing, prompting me, in leagueWith rovers of the Deep, to sail afarTo Ægypt, for my sure destruction there.Within th’ Ægyptian stream my barks well-oar’dI station’d, and, enjoining strict my friendsTo watch them close-attendant at their side,Commanded spies into the hill-tops; but they,Under the impulse of a spirit rash520And hot for quarrel, the well-cultur’d fieldsPillaged of the Ægyptians, captive ledTheir wives and little-ones, and slew the men.Ere long, the loud alarm their city reach’d.Down came the citizens, by dawn of day,With horse and foot and with the gleam of armsFilling the plain. Then Jove with panic dreadStruck all my people; none found courage moreTo stand, for mischiefs swarm’d on ev’ry side.There, num’rous by the glitt’ring spear we fell530Slaughter’d, while others they conducted thenceAlive to servitude; but me they gaveTo Dmetor, King in Cyprus, Jasus’ son;He entertained me liberally, and thenceThis land I reach’d, but poor and woe-begone.Then answer thus Antinoüs harsh return’d.What dæmon introduced this nuisance here,This troubler of our feast? stand yonder, keepDue distance from my table, or expectTo see an Ægypt and a Cyprus worse540Than those, bold mendicant and void of shame!Thou hauntest each, and, inconsid’rate, eachGives to thee, because gifts at other’s costAre cheap, and, plentifully serv’d themselves,They squander, heedless, viands not their own.To whom Ulysses while he slow retired.Gods! how illib’ral with that specious form!Thou wouldst not grant the poor a grain of saltFrom thy own board, who at another’s fedSo nobly, canst thou not spare a crust to me.550He spake; then raged Antinoüs still the more,And in wing’d accents, louring, thus replied.Take such dismission now as thou deserv’st,Opprobrious! hast thou dared to scoff at me?So saying, he seized his stool, and on the jointOf his right shoulder smote him; firm as rockHe stood, by no such force to be displaced,But silent shook his brows, and dreadful deedsOf vengeance ruminating, sought againHis seat the threshold, where his bag full-charged560He grounded, and the suitors thus address’d.Hear now, ye suitors of the matchless Queen,My bosom’s dictates. Trivial is the harm,Scarce felt, if, fighting for his own, his sheepPerchance, or beeves, a man receive a blow.But me Antinoüs struck for that I ask’dFood from him merely to appease the pangsOf hunger, source of num’rous ills to man.If then the poor man have a God t’ avengeHis wrongs, I pray to him that death may seize570Antinoüs, ere his nuptial hour arrive!To whom Antinoüs answer thus return’d,Son of Eupithes. Either seated thereOr going hence, eat, stranger, and be still;Lest for thy insolence, by hand or footWe drag thee forth, and thou be flay’d alive.He ceased, whom all indignant heard, and thusEv’n his own proud companions censured him.Antinoüs! thou didst not well to smiteThe wretched vagabond. O thou art doom’d580For ever, if there be a God in heav’n;77For, in similitude of strangers oft,The Gods, who can with ease all shapes assume,Repair to populous cities, where they markThe outrageous and the righteous deeds of men.So they, for whose reproof he little cared.But in his heart Telemachus that blowResented, anguish-torn, yet not a tearHe shed, but silent shook his brows, and musedTerrible things. Penelope, meantime,590Told of the wand’rer so abused beneathHer roof, among her maidens thus exclaim’d.So may Apollo, glorious archer, smiteThee also. Then Eurynome replied,Oh might our pray’rs prevail, none of them allShould see bright-charioted Aurora more.Her answer’d then Penelope discrete.Nurse! they are odious all, for that alikeAll teem with mischief; but Antinoüs’ looksRemind me ever of the gloom of death.600A stranger hath arrived who, begging, roamsThe house, (for so his penury enjoins)The rest have giv’n him, and have fill’d his bagWith viands, but Antinoüs hath bruisedHis shoulder with a foot-stool hurl’d at him.While thus the Queen conversing with her trainIn her own chamber sat, Ulysses madePlenteous repast. Then, calling to her sideEumæus, thus she signified her will.Eumæus, noble friend! bid now approach610Yon stranger. I would speak with him, and askIf he has seen Ulysses, or have heardTidings, perchance, of the afflicted Chief,For much a wand’rer by his garb he seems.To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.Were those Achaians silent, thou shouldst hear,O Queen! a tale that would console thy heart.Three nights I housed him, and within my cotThree days detain’d him, (for his ship he leftA fugitive, and came direct to me)620But half untold his hist’ry still remains.As when his eye one fixes on a bardFrom heav’n instructed in such themes as charmThe ear of mortals, ever as he singsThe people press, insatiable, to hear,So, in my cottage, seated at my side,That stranger with his tale enchanted me.Laertes, he affirms, hath been his guestErewhile in Crete, where Minos’ race resides,And thence he hath arrived, after great loss,630A suppliant to the very earth abased;He adds, that in Thesprotia’s neighbour realmHe of Ulysses heard, both that he lives,And that he comes laden with riches home.To whom Penelope, discrete, replied.Haste; call him. I would hear, myself, his tale.Meantime, let these, or in the palace gateSport jocular, or here; their hearts are light,For their possessions are secure;theirwineNone drinks, or eatstheirviands, save their own,640While my abode, day after day, themselvesHaunting, my beeves and sheep and fatted goatsSlay for the banquet, and my casks exhaustExtravagant, whence endless waste ensues;For no such friend as was Ulysses onceHave I to expel the mischief. But might heRevisit once his native shores again,Then, aided by his son, he should avenge,Incontinent, the wrongs which now I mourn.Then sneezed Telemachus with sudden force,650That all the palace rang; his mother laugh’d,And in wing’d accents thus the swain bespake.Haste—bid him hither—hear’st thou not the sneezePropitious of my son? oh might it proveA presage of inevitable deathTo all these revellers! may none escape!Now mark me well. Should the event his taleConfirm, at my own hands he shall receiveMantle and tunic both for his reward.She spake; he went, and where Ulysses sat660Arriving, in wing’d accents thus began.Penelope, my venerable friend!Calls thee, the mother of Telemachus.Oppress’d by num’rous troubles, she desiresTo ask thee tidings of her absent Lord.And should the event verify thy report,Thy meed shall be (a boon which much thou need’st)Tunic and mantle; but she gives no more;Thy sustenance thou must, as now, obtain,78Begging it at their hands who chuse to give.670Then thus Ulysses, Hero toil-inured.Eumæus! readily I can relateTruth, and truth only, to the prudent QueenIcarius’ daughter; for of him I knowMuch, and have suff’red sorrows like his own.But dread I feel of this imperious throngPerverse, whose riot and outrageous actsOf violence echo through the vault of heav’n.And, even now, when for no fault of mineYon suitor struck me as I pass’d, and fill’d680My flesh with pain, neither TelemachusNor any interposed to stay his arm.Now, therefore, let Penelope, althoughImpatient, till the sun descend postponeHer questions; then she may enquire secureWhen comes her husband, and may nearer placeMy seat to the hearth-side, for thinly cladThou know’st I am, whose aid I first implored.He ceas’d; at whose reply Eumæus soughtAgain the Queen, but ere he yet had pass’d690The threshold, thus she greeted his return.Com’st thou alone, Eumæus? why delaysThe invited wand’rer? dreads he other harm?Or sees he aught that with a bashful aweFills him? the bashful poor are poor indeed.To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.He hath well spoken; none who would declineThe rudeness of this contumelious throngCould answer otherwise; thee he entreatsTo wait till sun-set, and that course, O Queen,700Thou shalt thyself far more commodious find,To hold thy conf’rence with the guest, alone.Then answer thus Penelope return’d.The stranger, I perceive, is not unwise,Whoe’er he be, for on the earth are noneProud, insolent, and profligate as these.So spake the Queen. Then (all his message told)The good Eumæus to the suitors wentAgain, and with his head inclined towardTelemachus, lest others should his words710Witness, in accents wing’d him thus address’d.Friend and kind master! I return to keepMy herds, and to attend my rural charge,Whence we are both sustain’d. Keep thou, meantime,All here with vigilance, but chiefly watchFor thy own good, and savethyselffrom harm;For num’rous here brood mischief, whom the GodsExterminate, ere yet their plots prevail!To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.So be it, father! and (thy evening-mess720Eaten) depart; to-morrow come again,Bringing fair victims hither; I will keep,I and the Gods, meantime, all here secure.He ended; then resumed once more the swainHis polish’d seat, and, both with wine and foodNow satiate, to his charge return’d, the courtLeaving and all the palace throng’d with guests;They (for it now was evening) all alikeTurn’d jovial to the song and to the dance.73Proteus.74The hearth was the altar on which the lares or household-gods were worshipped.75That he might begin auspiciously. Wine was served in the same direction. F.76Here againΘεὸςoccurs in the abstract.77Ει δη που τις επουρανιος θεος εσιEustathius, and Clarke after him, understand an aposiopesis here, as if the speaker meant to say—what if there should be? or—suppose there should be? But the sentence seems to fall in better with what follows interpreted as above, and it is a sense of the passage not unwarranted by the opinion of other commentators. See Schaufelbergerus.78This seems added by Eumæus to cut off from Ulysses the hope that might otherwise tempt him to use fiction.

Telemachus returns to the city, and relates to his mother the principal passages of his voyage; Ulysses, conducted by Eumæus, arrives there also, and enters among the suitors, having been known only by his old dog Argus, who dies at his feet. The curiosity of Penelope being excited by the account which Eumæus gives her of Ulysses, she orders him immediately into her presence, but Ulysses postpones the interview till evening, when the suitors having left the palace, there shall be no danger of interruption. Eumæus returns to his cottage.

Now look’d Aurora from the East abroad,When the illustrious offspring of divineUlysses bound his sandals to his feet;He seiz’d his sturdy spear match’d to his gripe,And to the city meditating quickDeparture now, the swine-herd thus bespake.Father! I seek the city, to convinceMy mother of my safe return, whose tears,I judge, and lamentation shall not ceaseTill her own eyes behold me. But I lay10On thee this charge. Into the city lead,Thyself, this hapless guest, that he may begProvision there, a morsel and a dropFrom such as may, perchance, vouchsafe the boon.I cannot, vext and harass’d as I am,Feed all, and should the stranger take offence,The worse for him. Plain truth is my delight.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.Nor is it my desire to be detained.Better the mendicant in cities seeks20His dole, vouchsafe it whosoever may,Than in the villages. I am not young,Nor longer of an age that well accordsWith rural tasks, nor could I all performThat it might please a master to command.Go then, and when I shall have warm’d my limbsBefore the hearth, and when the risen sunShall somewhat chase the cold, thy servant’s taskShall be to guide me thither, as thou bidd’st,For this is a vile garb; the frosty air30Of morning would benumb me thus attired,And, as ye say, the city is remote.He ended, and Telemachus in hasteSet forth, his thoughts all teeming as he wentWith dire revenge. Soon in the palace-courtsArriving, he reclined his spear againstA column, and proceeded to the hall.Him Euryclea, first, his nurse, perceived,While on the variegated seats she spreadTheir fleecy cov’ring; swift with tearful eyes40She flew to him, and the whole female trainOf brave Ulysses swarm’d around his son,Clasping him, and his forehead and his neckKissing affectionate; then came, herself,As golden Venus or Diana fair,Forth from her chamber to her son’s embrace,The chaste Penelope; with tears she threwHer arms around him, his bright-beaming eyesAnd forehead kiss’d, and with a murmur’d plaintMaternal, in wing’d accents thus began.50Thou hast return’d, light of my eyes! my son!My lov’d Telemachus! I had no hopeTo see thee more when once thou hadst embark’dFor Pylus, privily, and with no consentFrom me obtain’d, news seeking of thy sire.But haste; unfold. Declare what thou hast seen.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Ah mother! let my sorrows rest, nor meFrom death so lately ’scaped afflict anew,But, bathed and habited in fresh attire,60With all the maidens of thy train ascendTo thy superior chamber, there to vowA perfect hecatomb to all the Gods,When Jove shall have avenged our num’rous wrongs.I seek the forum, there to introduceA guest, my follower from the Pylian shore,Whom sending forward with my noble band,I bade Piræus to his own abodeLead him, and with all kindness entertainThe stranger, till I should myself arrive.70He spake, nor flew his words useless away.She, bathed and habited in fresh attire,Vow’d a full hecatomb to all the Gods,Would Jove but recompense her num’rous wrongs.Then, spear in hand, went forth her son, two dogsFleet-footed following him. O’er all his formPallas diffused a dignity divine,And ev’ry eye gazed on him as he pass’d.The suitors throng’d him round, joy on their lipsAnd welcome, but deep mischief in their hearts.80He, shunning all that crowd, chose to himselfA seat, where Mentor sat, and Antiphus,And Halytherses, long his father’s friendsSincere, who of his voyage much enquired.Then drew Piræus nigh, leading his guestToward the forum; nor TelemachusStood long aloof, but greeted his approach,And was accosted by Piræus thus.Sir! send thy menial women to bring homeThe precious charge committed to my care,90Thy gifts at Menelaus’ hands received.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Piræus! wait; for I not yet foreseeThe upshot. Should these haughty ones effectMy death, clandestine, under my own roof,And parcel my inheritance by lot,I rather wish those treasures thine, than theirs.But should I with success plan for them allA bloody death, then, wing’d with joy, thyselfBring home those presents to thy joyful friend.100So saying, he led the anxious stranger thenceInto the royal mansion, where arrived,Each cast his mantle on a couch or throne,And plung’d his feet into a polish’d bath.There wash’d and lubricated with smooth oils,From the attendant maidens each receivedTunic and shaggy mantle. Thus attired,Forth from the baths they stepp’d, and sat again.A maiden, next, with golden ewer charged,And silver bowl, pour’d water on their hands,110And spread the polish’d table, which with foodOf all kinds, remnants of the last regale,The mistress of the household charge supplied.Meantime, beside a column of the domeHis mother, on a couch reclining, twirl’dHer slender threads. They to the furnish’d boardStretch’d forth their hands, and, hunger now and thirstBoth satisfied, Penelope began.Telemachus! I will ascend again,And will repose me on my woeful bed;120For such it hath been, and with tears of mineCeaseless bedew’d, e’er since Ulysses wentWith Atreus’ sons to Troy. For not a wordThou would’st vouchsafe me till our haughty guestsHad occupied the house again, of allThat thou hast heard (if aught indeed thou hast)Of thy long-absent father’s wish’d return.Her answer’d then Telemachus discrete.Mother, at thy request I will with truthRelate the whole. At Pylus shore arrived130We Nestor found, Chief of the Pylian race.Receiving me in his august abode,He entertain’d me with such welcome kindAs a glad father shews to his own sonLong-lost and newly found; so Nestor me,And his illustrious offspring, entertain’d,But yet assured me that he nought had heardFrom mortal lips of my magnanimous sire,Whether alive or dead; with his own steedsHe sent me, and with splendid chariot thence140To spear-famed Menelaus, Atreus’ son.There saw I Helen, by the Gods’ decreeAuth’ress of trouble both to Greece and Troy.The Hero Menelaus then enquiredWhat cause had urged me to the pleasant valeOf Lacedæmon; plainly I rehearsedThe occasion, and the Hero thus replied.Ye Gods! they are ambitious of the bedOf a brave man, however base themselves.But, as it chances when the hart hath laid150Her fawns new-yean’d and sucklings yet, to restIn some resistless lion’s den, she roams,Meantime, the hills, and in the grassy valesFeeds heedless, but the lion to his lairReturning soon, both her and hers destroys,So shall thy father, brave Ulysses, them.Jove! Pallas! and Apollo! oh that suchAs erst in well-built Lesbos, where he stroveWith Philomelides, whom wrestling, flatHe threw, when all Achaia’s sons rejoiced,160Ulysses, now, might mingle with his foes!Short life and bitter nuptials should be theirs,But thy enquiries neither indirectWill I evade, nor give thee false reply,But all that from the Ancient of the Deep73I have received will utter, hiding nought.The God declared that he had seen thy sireIn a lone island, sorrowing, and detain’dAn inmate in the grotto of the nymphCalypso, wanting also means by which170To reach the country of his birth again,For neither gallant barks nor friends had heTo speed his passage o’er the boundless waves.So Menelaus spake, the spear-renown’d.My errand thus accomplish’d, I return’d—And by the Gods with gales propitious blest,Was wafted swiftly to my native shore.He spake, and tumult in his mother’s heartSo speaking, raised. Consolatory, next,The godlike Theoclymenus began.180Consort revered of Laertiades!Little the Spartan knew, but list to me,For I will plainly prophesy and sure.Be Jove of all in heav’n my witness first,Then this thy hospitable board, and, last,The household Gods of the illustrious ChiefUlysses, at whose hearth I have arrived,74That, even now, within his native isleUlysses somewhere sits, or creeps obscure,Witness of these enormities, and seeds190Sowing of dire destruction for his foes;So sure an augury, while on the deckReclining of the gallant bark, I saw,And with loud voice proclaim’d it to thy son.Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.Grant heav’n, my guest, that this good word of thineFail not! then shalt thou soon such bounty shareAnd friendship at my hands, that at first sightWhoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.Thus they conferr’d. Meantime the suitors hurl’d200The quoit and lance on the smooth area spreadBefore Ulysses’ gate, the custom’d sceneOf their contentions, sports, and clamours rude.But when the hour of supper now approach’d,And from the pastures on all sides the sheepCame with their wonted drivers, Medon then(For he of all the heralds pleas’d them most,And waited at the board) them thus address’d.Enough of play, young princes! ent’ring nowThe house, prepare we sedulous our feast,210Since in well-timed refreshment harm is none.He spake, whose admonition pleas’d. At onceAll, rising, sought the palace; there arrived,Each cast his mantle off, which on his throneOr couch he spread, then, brisk, to slaughter fellOf many a victim; sheep and goats and brawnsThey slew, all fatted, and a pastur’d ox,Hast’ning the banquet; nor with less dispatchUlysses and Eumæus now preparedTo seek the town, when thus the swain began.220My guest! since thy fixt purpose is to seekThis day the city as my master bade,Though I, in truth, much rather wish thee hereA keeper of our herds, yet, through respectAnd rev’rence of his orders, whose reproofI dread, for masters seldom gently chide,I would be gone. Arise, let us depart,For day already is far-spent, and soonThe air of even-tide will chill thee more.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.230It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’stTo one intelligent. Let us depart,And lead, thyself, the way; but give me, first,(If thou have one already hewn) a staffTo lean on, for ye have described the roadRugged, and ofttimes dang’rous to the foot.So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his backHe cast, suspended by a leathern twist,Eumæus gratified him with a staff,And forth they went, leaving the cottage kept240By dogs and swains. He city-ward his KingLed on, in form a squalid beggar old,Halting, and in unseemly garb attired.But when, slow-travelling the craggy way,They now approach’d the town, and had attain’dThe marble fountain deep, which with its streamsPellucid all the citizens supplied,(Ithacus had that fountain framed of oldWith Neritus and Polyctor, over whichA grove of water-nourish’d alders hung250Circular on all sides, while cold the rillRan from the rock, on whose tall summit stoodThe altar of the nymphs, by all who pass’dWith sacrifice frequented, still, and pray’r)Melantheus, son of Dolius, at that fountMet them; the chosen goats of ev’ry flock,With two assistants, from the field he drove,The suitors’ supper. He, seeing them both,In surly accent boorish, such as firedUlysses with resentment, thus began.260Ay—this is well—The villain leads the vile—Thus evermore the Gods join like to like.Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither would’st conductThis morsel-hunting mendicant obscene,Defiler base of banquets? many a postShall he rub smooth that props him while he begsLean alms, sole object of his low pursuit,Who ne’er to sword or tripod yet aspired.Would’st thou afford him to me for a guardOr sweeper of my stalls, or to supply270My kids with leaves, he should on bulkier thewesSupported stand, though nourish’d but with whey.But no such useful arts hath he acquired,Nor likes he work, but rather much to extortFrom others food for his unsated maw.But mark my prophecy, for it is true,At famed Ulysses’ house should he arrive,His sides shall shatter many a footstool hurl’dAgainst them by the offended princes there.He spake, and drawing nigh, with his rais’d foot,280Insolent as he was and brutish, smoteUlysses’ haunch, yet shook not from his pathThe firm-set Chief, who, doubtful, mused awhileWhether to rush on him, and with his staffTo slay him, or uplifting him on high,Downward to dash him headlong; but his wrathRestraining, calm he suffer’d the affront.Him then Eumæus with indignant lookRebuking, rais’d his hands, and fervent pray’d.Nymphs of the fountains, progeny of Jove!290If e’er Ulysses on your altar burn’dThe thighs of fatted lambs or kidlings, grantThis my request. O let the Hero soon,Conducted by some Deity, return!So shall he quell that arrogance which safeThou now indulgest, roaming day by dayThe city, while bad shepherds mar the flocks.To whom the goat-herd answer thus return’dMelantheus. Marvellous! how rare a speechThe subtle cur hath framed! whom I will send300Far hence at a convenient time on boardMy bark, and sell him at no little gain.I would, that he who bears the silver bowAs sure might pierce Telemachus this dayIn his own house, or that the suitors might,As that same wand’rer shall return no more!He said, and them left pacing slow along,But soon, himself, at his Lord’s house arrived;There ent’ring bold, he with the suitors satOpposite to Eurymachus, for him310He valued most. The sewers his portion placedOf meat before him, and the maiden, chiefDirectress of the household gave him bread.And now, Ulysses, with the swain his friendApproach’d, when, hearing the harmonious lyre,Both stood, for Phemius had begun his song.He grasp’d the swine-herd’s hand, and thus he said.This house, Eumæus! of Ulysses seemsPassing magnificent, and to be knownWith ease for his among a thousand more.320One pile supports another, and a wallCrested with battlements surrounds the court;Firm, too, the folding doors all force of manDefy; but num’rous guests, as I perceive,Now feast within; witness the sav’ry steamFast-fuming upward, and the sounding harp,Divine associate of the festive board.To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.Thou hast well-guess’d; no wonder, thou art quickOn ev’ry theme; but let us well forecast330This business. Wilt thou, ent’ring first, thyself,The splendid mansion, with the suitors mix,Me leaving here? or shall I lead the wayWhile thou remain’st behind? yet linger not,Lest, seeing thee without, some servant strikeOr drive thee hence. Consider which were best.Him answer’d, then, the patient Hero bold.It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’stTo one intelligent. Lead thou the wayMe leaving here, for neither stripes nor blows340To me are strange. Much exercised with painIn fight and on the Deep, I have long sinceLearn’d patience. Follow, next, what follow may!But, to suppress the appetite, I deemImpossible; the stomach is a sourceOf ills to man, an avaricious gulphDestructive, which to satiate, ships are rigg’d,Seas travers’d, and fierce battles waged remote.Thus they discoursing stood; Argus the while,Ulysses’ dog, uplifted where he lay350His head and ears erect. Ulysses himHad bred long since, himself, but rarely used,Departing, first, to Ilium. Him the youthsIn other days led frequent to the chaceOf wild goat, hart and hare; but now he lodg’dA poor old cast-off, of his Lord forlorn,Where mules and oxen had before the gateMuch ordure left, with which Ulysses’ hindsShould, in due time, manure his spacious fields.There lay, with dog-devouring vermin foul360All over, Argus; soon as he perceivedLong-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his earsClapp’d close, and with his tail glad sign he gaveOf gratulation, impotent to riseAnd to approach his master as of old.Ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tearUnmark’d, and of Eumæus quick enquired.I can but wonder seeing such a dogThus lodg’d, Eumæus! beautiful in formHe is, past doubt, but whether he hath been370As fleet as fair I know not; rather suchPerchance as masters sometimes keep to graceTheir tables, nourish’d more for shew than use.To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.He is the dog of one dead far remote.But had he now such feat-performing strengthAs when Ulysses left him, going henceTo Ilium, in one moment thou shouldst mark,Astonish’d, his agility and force.He never in the sylvan deep recess380The wild beast saw that ’scaped him, and he track’dTheir steps infallible; but he hath nowNo comfort, for (the master dead afar)The heedless servants care not for his dog.Domestics, missing once their Lord’s controul,Grow wilful, and refuse their proper tasks;For whom Jove dooms to servitude, he takesAt once the half of that man’s worth away.He said, and, ent’ring at the portal, join’dThe suitors. Then his destiny released390Old Argus, soon as he had lived to seeUlysses in the twentieth year restored.Godlike Telemachus, long ere the rest,Marking the swine-herd’s entrance, with a nodSummon’d him to approach. Eumæus castHis eye around, and seeing vacant thereThe seat which the dispenser of the feastWas wont to occupy while he suppliedThe num’rous guests, planted it right beforeTelemachus, and at his table sat,400On which the herald placed for him his shareOf meat, and from the baskets gave him bread.Soon afterhim, Ulysses enter’d slowThe palace, like a squalid beggar old,Staff-propp’d, and in loose tatters foul attired.Within the portal on the ashen sillHe sat, and, seeming languid, lean’d againstA cypress pillar by the builder’s artPolish’d long since, and planted at the door.Then took Telemachus a loaf entire410Forth from the elegant basket, and of fleshA portion large as his two hands contained,And, beck’ning close the swine-herd, charged him thus.These to the stranger; whom advise to askSome dole from ev’ry suitor; bashful fearIll suits the mendicant by want oppress’d.He spake; Eumæus went, and where he satArriving, in wing’d accents thus began.Telemachus, oh stranger, sends thee these,And counsels thee to importune for more420The suitors, one by one; for bashful fearIll suits the mendicant by want oppress’d.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.Jove, King of all, grant ev’ry good on earthTo kind Telemachus, and the completeAccomplishment of all that he desires!He said, and with both hands outspread, the messReceiving as he sat, on his worn bagDisposed it at his feet. Long as the bardChaunted, he ate, and when he ceas’d to eat,430Then also ceas’d the bard divine to sing.And now ensued loud clamour in the hallAnd tumult, when Minerva, drawing nighTo Laertiades, impell’d the ChiefCrusts to collect, or any pittance smallAt ev’ry suitor’s hand, for trial’s sakeOf just and unjust; yet deliv’rance noneFrom evil she design’d for any there.From left to right75his progress he beganPetitioning, with outstretch’d hands, the throng,440As one familiar with the beggar’s art.They, pitying, gave to him, but view’d him stillWith wonder, and enquiries mutual madeWho, and whence was he? Then the goat-herd roseMelanthius, and th’ assembly thus address’d.Hear me, ye suitors of th’ illustrious Queen!This guest, of whom ye ask, I have beheldElsewhere; the swine-herd brought him; but himselfI know not, neither who nor whence he is.So he; then thus Antinoüs stern rebuked450The swine-herd. Ah, notorious as thou art,Why hast thou shewn this vagabond the wayInto the city? are we not enoughInfested with these troublers of our feasts?Deem’st it a trifle that such numbers eatAt thy Lord’s cost, and hast thou, therefore, ledThis fellow hither, found we know not where?To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.Antinoüs! though of high degree, thou speak’stNot wisely. What man to another’s house460Repairs to invite him to a feast, unlessHe be of those who by profession serveThe public, prophet, healer of disease,Ingenious artist, or some bard divineWhose music may exhilarate the guests?These, and such only, are in ev’ry landCall’d to the banquet; none invites the poor,Who much consume, and no requital yield.But thou of all the suitors roughly treat’stUlysses’ servants most, and chiefly me;470Yet thee I heed not, while the virtuous QueenDwells in this palace, and her godlike son.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Peace! answer not verbose a man like him.Antinoüs hath a tongue accustom’d muchTo tauntings, and promotes them in the rest.Then, turning to Antinoüs, quick he said—Antinoüs! as a father for his sonTakes thought, so thou for me, who bidd’st me chaseThe stranger harshly hence; but God forbid!76480Impart to him. I grudge not, but myselfExhort thee to it; neither, in this cause,Fear thou the Queen, or in the least regardWhatever menial throughout all the houseOf famed Ulysses. Ah! within thy breastDwells no such thought; thou lov’st not to impartTo others, but to gratify thyself.To whom Antinoüs answer thus return’d.High-soaring and intemp’rate in thy speechHow hast thou said, Telemachus? Would all490As much bestow on him, he should not seekAdmittance here again three months to come.So saying, he seized the stool which, banqueting,He press’d with his nice feet, and from beneathThe table forth advanced it into view.The rest all gave to him, with bread and fleshFilling his wallet, and Ulysses, now,Returning to his threshold, there to tasteThe bounty of the Greeks, paused in his wayBeside Antinoüs, whom he thus address’d.500Kind sir! vouchsafe to me! for thou appear’stNot least, but greatest of the Achaians here,And hast a kingly look. It might becomeThee therefore above others to bestow,So should I praise thee wheresoe’er I roam.I also lived the happy owner onceOf such a stately mansion, and have giv’nTo num’rous wand’rers (whencesoe’er theycame)All that they needed; I was also servedBy many, and enjoy’d all that denotes510The envied owner opulent and blest.But Jove (for so it pleas’d him) hath reducedMy all to nothing, prompting me, in leagueWith rovers of the Deep, to sail afarTo Ægypt, for my sure destruction there.Within th’ Ægyptian stream my barks well-oar’dI station’d, and, enjoining strict my friendsTo watch them close-attendant at their side,Commanded spies into the hill-tops; but they,Under the impulse of a spirit rash520And hot for quarrel, the well-cultur’d fieldsPillaged of the Ægyptians, captive ledTheir wives and little-ones, and slew the men.Ere long, the loud alarm their city reach’d.Down came the citizens, by dawn of day,With horse and foot and with the gleam of armsFilling the plain. Then Jove with panic dreadStruck all my people; none found courage moreTo stand, for mischiefs swarm’d on ev’ry side.There, num’rous by the glitt’ring spear we fell530Slaughter’d, while others they conducted thenceAlive to servitude; but me they gaveTo Dmetor, King in Cyprus, Jasus’ son;He entertained me liberally, and thenceThis land I reach’d, but poor and woe-begone.Then answer thus Antinoüs harsh return’d.What dæmon introduced this nuisance here,This troubler of our feast? stand yonder, keepDue distance from my table, or expectTo see an Ægypt and a Cyprus worse540Than those, bold mendicant and void of shame!Thou hauntest each, and, inconsid’rate, eachGives to thee, because gifts at other’s costAre cheap, and, plentifully serv’d themselves,They squander, heedless, viands not their own.To whom Ulysses while he slow retired.Gods! how illib’ral with that specious form!Thou wouldst not grant the poor a grain of saltFrom thy own board, who at another’s fedSo nobly, canst thou not spare a crust to me.550He spake; then raged Antinoüs still the more,And in wing’d accents, louring, thus replied.Take such dismission now as thou deserv’st,Opprobrious! hast thou dared to scoff at me?So saying, he seized his stool, and on the jointOf his right shoulder smote him; firm as rockHe stood, by no such force to be displaced,But silent shook his brows, and dreadful deedsOf vengeance ruminating, sought againHis seat the threshold, where his bag full-charged560He grounded, and the suitors thus address’d.Hear now, ye suitors of the matchless Queen,My bosom’s dictates. Trivial is the harm,Scarce felt, if, fighting for his own, his sheepPerchance, or beeves, a man receive a blow.But me Antinoüs struck for that I ask’dFood from him merely to appease the pangsOf hunger, source of num’rous ills to man.If then the poor man have a God t’ avengeHis wrongs, I pray to him that death may seize570Antinoüs, ere his nuptial hour arrive!To whom Antinoüs answer thus return’d,Son of Eupithes. Either seated thereOr going hence, eat, stranger, and be still;Lest for thy insolence, by hand or footWe drag thee forth, and thou be flay’d alive.He ceased, whom all indignant heard, and thusEv’n his own proud companions censured him.Antinoüs! thou didst not well to smiteThe wretched vagabond. O thou art doom’d580For ever, if there be a God in heav’n;77For, in similitude of strangers oft,The Gods, who can with ease all shapes assume,Repair to populous cities, where they markThe outrageous and the righteous deeds of men.So they, for whose reproof he little cared.But in his heart Telemachus that blowResented, anguish-torn, yet not a tearHe shed, but silent shook his brows, and musedTerrible things. Penelope, meantime,590Told of the wand’rer so abused beneathHer roof, among her maidens thus exclaim’d.So may Apollo, glorious archer, smiteThee also. Then Eurynome replied,Oh might our pray’rs prevail, none of them allShould see bright-charioted Aurora more.Her answer’d then Penelope discrete.Nurse! they are odious all, for that alikeAll teem with mischief; but Antinoüs’ looksRemind me ever of the gloom of death.600A stranger hath arrived who, begging, roamsThe house, (for so his penury enjoins)The rest have giv’n him, and have fill’d his bagWith viands, but Antinoüs hath bruisedHis shoulder with a foot-stool hurl’d at him.While thus the Queen conversing with her trainIn her own chamber sat, Ulysses madePlenteous repast. Then, calling to her sideEumæus, thus she signified her will.Eumæus, noble friend! bid now approach610Yon stranger. I would speak with him, and askIf he has seen Ulysses, or have heardTidings, perchance, of the afflicted Chief,For much a wand’rer by his garb he seems.To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.Were those Achaians silent, thou shouldst hear,O Queen! a tale that would console thy heart.Three nights I housed him, and within my cotThree days detain’d him, (for his ship he leftA fugitive, and came direct to me)620But half untold his hist’ry still remains.As when his eye one fixes on a bardFrom heav’n instructed in such themes as charmThe ear of mortals, ever as he singsThe people press, insatiable, to hear,So, in my cottage, seated at my side,That stranger with his tale enchanted me.Laertes, he affirms, hath been his guestErewhile in Crete, where Minos’ race resides,And thence he hath arrived, after great loss,630A suppliant to the very earth abased;He adds, that in Thesprotia’s neighbour realmHe of Ulysses heard, both that he lives,And that he comes laden with riches home.To whom Penelope, discrete, replied.Haste; call him. I would hear, myself, his tale.Meantime, let these, or in the palace gateSport jocular, or here; their hearts are light,For their possessions are secure;theirwineNone drinks, or eatstheirviands, save their own,640While my abode, day after day, themselvesHaunting, my beeves and sheep and fatted goatsSlay for the banquet, and my casks exhaustExtravagant, whence endless waste ensues;For no such friend as was Ulysses onceHave I to expel the mischief. But might heRevisit once his native shores again,Then, aided by his son, he should avenge,Incontinent, the wrongs which now I mourn.Then sneezed Telemachus with sudden force,650That all the palace rang; his mother laugh’d,And in wing’d accents thus the swain bespake.Haste—bid him hither—hear’st thou not the sneezePropitious of my son? oh might it proveA presage of inevitable deathTo all these revellers! may none escape!Now mark me well. Should the event his taleConfirm, at my own hands he shall receiveMantle and tunic both for his reward.She spake; he went, and where Ulysses sat660Arriving, in wing’d accents thus began.Penelope, my venerable friend!Calls thee, the mother of Telemachus.Oppress’d by num’rous troubles, she desiresTo ask thee tidings of her absent Lord.And should the event verify thy report,Thy meed shall be (a boon which much thou need’st)Tunic and mantle; but she gives no more;Thy sustenance thou must, as now, obtain,78Begging it at their hands who chuse to give.670Then thus Ulysses, Hero toil-inured.Eumæus! readily I can relateTruth, and truth only, to the prudent QueenIcarius’ daughter; for of him I knowMuch, and have suff’red sorrows like his own.But dread I feel of this imperious throngPerverse, whose riot and outrageous actsOf violence echo through the vault of heav’n.And, even now, when for no fault of mineYon suitor struck me as I pass’d, and fill’d680My flesh with pain, neither TelemachusNor any interposed to stay his arm.Now, therefore, let Penelope, althoughImpatient, till the sun descend postponeHer questions; then she may enquire secureWhen comes her husband, and may nearer placeMy seat to the hearth-side, for thinly cladThou know’st I am, whose aid I first implored.He ceas’d; at whose reply Eumæus soughtAgain the Queen, but ere he yet had pass’d690The threshold, thus she greeted his return.Com’st thou alone, Eumæus? why delaysThe invited wand’rer? dreads he other harm?Or sees he aught that with a bashful aweFills him? the bashful poor are poor indeed.To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.He hath well spoken; none who would declineThe rudeness of this contumelious throngCould answer otherwise; thee he entreatsTo wait till sun-set, and that course, O Queen,700Thou shalt thyself far more commodious find,To hold thy conf’rence with the guest, alone.Then answer thus Penelope return’d.The stranger, I perceive, is not unwise,Whoe’er he be, for on the earth are noneProud, insolent, and profligate as these.So spake the Queen. Then (all his message told)The good Eumæus to the suitors wentAgain, and with his head inclined towardTelemachus, lest others should his words710Witness, in accents wing’d him thus address’d.Friend and kind master! I return to keepMy herds, and to attend my rural charge,Whence we are both sustain’d. Keep thou, meantime,All here with vigilance, but chiefly watchFor thy own good, and savethyselffrom harm;For num’rous here brood mischief, whom the GodsExterminate, ere yet their plots prevail!To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.So be it, father! and (thy evening-mess720Eaten) depart; to-morrow come again,Bringing fair victims hither; I will keep,I and the Gods, meantime, all here secure.He ended; then resumed once more the swainHis polish’d seat, and, both with wine and foodNow satiate, to his charge return’d, the courtLeaving and all the palace throng’d with guests;They (for it now was evening) all alikeTurn’d jovial to the song and to the dance.

73Proteus.74The hearth was the altar on which the lares or household-gods were worshipped.75That he might begin auspiciously. Wine was served in the same direction. F.76Here againΘεὸςoccurs in the abstract.77Ει δη που τις επουρανιος θεος εσιEustathius, and Clarke after him, understand an aposiopesis here, as if the speaker meant to say—what if there should be? or—suppose there should be? But the sentence seems to fall in better with what follows interpreted as above, and it is a sense of the passage not unwarranted by the opinion of other commentators. See Schaufelbergerus.78This seems added by Eumæus to cut off from Ulysses the hope that might otherwise tempt him to use fiction.

73Proteus.

74The hearth was the altar on which the lares or household-gods were worshipped.

75That he might begin auspiciously. Wine was served in the same direction. F.

76Here againΘεὸςoccurs in the abstract.

77Ει δη που τις επουρανιος θεος εσιEustathius, and Clarke after him, understand an aposiopesis here, as if the speaker meant to say—what if there should be? or—suppose there should be? But the sentence seems to fall in better with what follows interpreted as above, and it is a sense of the passage not unwarranted by the opinion of other commentators. See Schaufelbergerus.

Ει δη που τις επουρανιος θεος εσι

Eustathius, and Clarke after him, understand an aposiopesis here, as if the speaker meant to say—what if there should be? or—suppose there should be? But the sentence seems to fall in better with what follows interpreted as above, and it is a sense of the passage not unwarranted by the opinion of other commentators. See Schaufelbergerus.

78This seems added by Eumæus to cut off from Ulysses the hope that might otherwise tempt him to use fiction.

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