BOOK XVIII

BOOK XVIIIARGUMENTThe beggar Irus arrives at the palace; a combat takes place between him and Ulysses, in which Irus is by one blow vanquished. Penelope appears to the suitors, and having reminded them of the presents which she had a right to expect from them, receives a gift from each. Eurymachus, provoked by a speech of Ulysses, flings a foot-stool at him, which knocks down the cup-bearer; a general tumult is the consequence, which continues, till by the advice of Telemachus, seconded by Amphinomus, the suitors retire to their respective homes.Now came a public mendicant, a manAccustom’d, seeking alms, to roam the streetsOf Ithaca; one never sated yetWith food or drink; yet muscle had he none,Or strength of limb, though giant-built in show.Arnæus was the name which at his birthHis mother gave him, but the youthful bandOf suitors, whom as messenger he served,All named him Irus. He, arriving, soughtTo drive Ulysses forth from his own home,10And in rough accents rude him thus rebuked.Forth from the porch, old man! lest by the footI drag thee quickly forth. Seest not how allWink on me, and by signs give me commandTo drag thee hence? nor is it aught but shameThat checks me. Yet arise, lest soon with fistsThou force me to adjust our diff’rence.To whom Ulysses, low’ring dark, replied.Peace, fellow! neither word nor deed of mineWrongs thee, nor feel I envy at the boon,20However plentiful, which thou receiv’st.The sill may hold us both; thou dost not wellTo envy others; thou appear’st like meA vagrant; plenty is the gift of heav’n.But urge me not to trial of our fists,Lest thou provoke me, and I stain with bloodThy bosom and thy lips, old as I am.So, my attendance should to-morrow proveMore tranquil here; for thou should’st leave, I judge,Ulysses’ mansion, never to return.30Then answer’d Irus, kindling with disdain.Gods! with what volubility of speechThe table-hunter prates, like an old hagCollied with chimney-smutch! but ah beware!For I intend thee mischief, and to dashWith both hands ev’ry grinder from thy gums,As men untooth a pig pilf’ring the corn.Come—gird thee, that all here may view the strife—But how wilt thou oppose one young as I?Thus on the threshold of the lofty gate40They, wrangling, chafed each other, whose disputeThe high-born youth Antinoüs mark’d; he laugh’dDelighted, and the suitors thus address’d.Oh friends! no pastime ever yet occurr’dPleasant as this which, now, the Gods themselvesAfford us. Irus and the stranger brawlAs they would box. Haste—let us urge them on.He said; at once loud-laughing all arose;The ill-clad disputants they round aboutEncompass’d, and Antinoüs thus began.50Attend ye noble suitors to my voice.Two paunches lie of goats here on the fire,Which fill’d with fat and blood we set apartFor supper; he who conquers, and in forceSuperior proves, shall freely take the paunchWhich he prefers, and shall with us thenceforthFeast always; neither will we here admitPoor man beside to beg at our repasts.He spake, whom all approved; next, artful ChiefUlysses thus, dissembling, them address’d.60Princes! unequal is the strife betweenA young man and an old with mis’ry worn;But hunger, always counsellor of ill,Me moves to fight, that many a bruise received,I may be foil’d at last. Now swear ye allA solemn oath, that none, for Irus’ sakeShall, interposing, smite me with his fistClandestine, forcing me to yield the prize.He ceas’d, and, as he bade, all present sworeA solemn oath; then thus, amid them all70Standing, Telemachus majestic spake.Guest! if thy courage and thy manly mindPrompt thee to banish this man hence, no forceFear thou beside, for who smites thee, shall findYet other foes to cope with; I am hereIn the host’s office, and the royal ChiefsEurymachus and Antinoüs, alikeDiscrete, accord unanimous with me.He ceas’d, whom all approved. Then, with his ragsUlysses braced for decency his loins80Around, but gave to view his brawny thighsProportion’d fair, and stripp’d his shoulders broad,His chest and arms robust; while, at his side,Dilating more the Hero’s limbs and moreMinerva stood; the assembly with fixt eyesAstonish’d gazed on him, and, looking fullOn his next friend, a suitor thus remark’d.Irus shall be in Irus found no more.He hath pull’d evil on himself. What thewesAnd what a haunch the senior’s tatters hid!90So he—meantime in Irus’ heart aroseHorrible tumult; yet, his loins by forceGirding, the servants dragg’d him to the fightPale, and his flesh all quiv’ring as he came;Whose terrors thus Antinoüs sharp rebuked.Now, wherefore liv’st, and why wast ever bornThou mountain-mass of earth! if such dismayShake thee at thought of combat with a manAncient as he, and worn with many woes?But mark, I threaten not in vain; should he100O’ercome thee, and in force superior prove,To Echetus thou go’st; my sable barkShall waft thee to Epirus, where he reignsEnemy of mankind; of nose and earsHe shall despoil thee with his ruthless steel,And tearing by the roots the parts away79That mark thy sex, shall cast them to the dogs.He said;Hislimbs new terrors at that soundShook under him; into the middle spaceThey led him, and each raised his hands on high.110Then doubtful stood Ulysses toil-inured,Whether to strike him lifeless to the earthAt once, or fell him with a managed blow.To smite with managed force at length he choseAs wisest, lest, betray’d by his own strength,He should be known. With elevated fistsBoth stood; him Irus on the shoulder struck,But he his adversary on the neckPash’d close beneath his ear; he split the bones,And blood in sable streams ran from his mouth.120With many an hideous yell he dropp’d, his teethChatter’d, and with his heels he drumm’d the ground.The wooers, at that sight, lifting their handsIn glad surprize, laugh’d all their breath away.Then, through the vestibule, and right acrossThe court, Ulysses dragg’d him by the footInto the portico, where propping himAgainst the wall, and giving him his staff,In accents wing’d he bade him thus farewell.There seated now, dogs drive and swine away,130Nor claim (thyself so base) supreme controulO’er other guests and mendicants, lest harmReach thee, hereafter, heavier still than this.So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his backHe threw suspended by its leathern twist,And tow’rd the threshold turning, sat again,They laughing ceaseless still, the palace-doorRe-enter’d, and him, courteous, thus bespake.Jove, and all Jove’s assessors in the skiesVouchsafe thee, stranger, whatsoe’er it be,140Thy heart’s desire! who hast our ears reliev’dFrom that insatiate beggar’s irksome tone.Soon to Epirus he shall go dispatch’dTo Echetus the King, pest of mankind.So they, to whose propitious words the ChiefListen’d delighted. Then Antinoüs placedThe paunch before him, and AmphinomusTwo loaves, selected from the rest; he fill’dA goblet also, drank to him, and said,My father, hail! O stranger, be thy lot150Hereafter blest, though adverse now and hard!To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.To me, Amphinomus, endued thou seem’stWith much discretion, who art also sonOf such a sire, whose fair report I know,Dulichian Nysus, opulent and good.Fame speaks thee his, and thou appear’st a manJudicious; hear me, therefore; mark me well.Earth nourishes, of all that breathe or creep,No creature weak as man; for while the Gods160Grant him prosperity and health, no fearHath he, or thought, that he shall ever mourn;But when the Gods with evils unforeseenSmite him, he bears them with a grudging mind;For such as the complexion of his lotBy the appointment of the Sire of all,Such is the colour of the mind of man.I, too, have been familiar in my dayWith wealth and ease, but I was then self-will’d,And many wrong’d, embolden’d by the thought170Of my own father’s and my brethren’s pow’r.Let no man, therefore, be unjust, but eachUse modestly what gift soe’er of heav’n.So do not these. These ever bent I seeOn deeds injurious, the possessions largeConsuming, and dishonouring the wifeOf one, who will not, as I judge, remainLong absent from his home, but is, perchance,Ev’n at the door. Thee, therefore, may the GodsSteal hence in time! ah, meet not his return180To his own country! for they will not part,(He and the suitors) without blood, I think,If once he enter at these gates again!He ended, and, libation pouring, quaff’dThe generous juice, then in the prince’s handReplaced the cup; he, pensive, and his headInclining low, pass’d from him; for his heartForboded ill; yet ’scaped not even he,But in the snare of Pallas caught, his lifeTo the heroic arm and spear resign’d190Of brave Telemachus. Reaching, at length,The seat whence he had ris’n, he sat again.Minerva then, Goddess, cærulean-eyed,Prompted Icarius’ daughter to appearBefore the suitors; so to expose the moreTheir drift iniquitous, and that herselfMore bright than ever in her husband’s eyesMight shine, and in her son’s. Much mirth she feign’d,80And, bursting into laughter, thus began.I wish, Eurynome! (who never felt200That wish till now) though I detest them all,To appear before the suitors, in whose earsI will admonish, for his good, my son,Not to associate with that lawless crewToo much, who speak him fair, but foul intend.Then answer thus Eurynome return’d.My daughter! wisely hast thou said and well.Go! bathe thee and anoint thy face, then giveTo thy dear son such counsel as thou wiltWithout reserve; but shew not there thy cheeks210Sullied with tears, for profit none accruesFrom grief like thine, that never knows a change.And he is now bearded, and hath attainedThat age which thou wast wont with warmest pray’rTo implore the Gods that he might live to see.Her answer’d then Penelope discrete.Persuade not me, though studious of my good,To bathe, Eurynome! or to anointMy face with oil; for all my charms the GodsInhabitants of Olympus then destroy’d,220When he, embarking, left me. Go, commandHippodamia and AutonöeThat they attend me to the hall, and waitBeside me there; for decency forbidsThat I should enter to the men, alone.She ceas’d, and through the house the ancient dameHasted to summon whom she had enjoin’d.But Pallas, Goddess of the azure eyes,Diffused, meantime, the kindly dew of sleepAround Icarius’ daughter; on her couch230Reclining, soon as she reclin’d, she dozed,And yielded to soft slumber all her frame.Then, that the suitors might admire her more,The glorious Goddess cloath’d her, as she lay,With beauty of the skies; her lovely faceShe with ambrosia purified, with suchAs Cytherea chaplet-crown’d employsHerself, when in the eye-ensnaring danceShe joins the Graces; to a statelier heightBeneath her touch, and ampler size she grew,240And fairer than the elephantine boneFresh from the carver’s hand. These gifts conferr’dDivine, the awful Deity retired.And now, loud-prattling as they came, arrivedHer handmaids; sleep forsook her at the sound,She wiped away a tear, and thus she said.Me gentle sleep, sad mourner as I am,Hath here involved. O would that by a deathAs gentle chaste Diana would herselfThis moment set me free, that I might waste250My life no longer in heart-felt regretOf a lamented husband’s various worthAnd virtue, for in Greece no Peer had he!She said, and through her chambers’ stately doorIssuing, descended; neither went she sole,But with those two fair menials of her train.Arriving, most majestic of her sex,In presence of the num’rous guests, beneathThe portal of the stately dome she stoodBetween her maidens, with her lucid veil260Mantling her lovely cheeks. Then, ev’ry kneeTrembled, and ev’ry heart with am’rous heatDissolv’d, her charms all coveting alike,While to Telemachus her son she spake.Telemachus! thou art no longer wiseAs once thou wast, and even when a child.For thriven as thou art, and at full sizeArrived of man, so fair proportion’d, too,That ev’n a stranger, looking on thy growthAnd beauty, would pronounce thee nobly born,270Yet is thy intellect still immature.For what is this? why suffer’st thou a guestTo be abused in thy own palace? how?Know’st not that if the stranger seated hereEndure vexation, the disgrace is thine?Her answer’d, then, Telemachus discrete.I blame thee not, my mother, that thou feel’stThine anger moved; yet want I not a mindAble to mark and to discern betweenEvil and good, child as I lately was,280Although I find not promptitude of thoughtSufficient always, overaw’d and check’dBy such a multitude, all bent alikeOn mischief, of whom none takes part with me.But Irus and the stranger have not fought,Urged by the suitors, and the stranger prov’dVictorious; yes—heav’n knows how much I wishThat, (in the palace some, some in the court)The suitors all sat vanquish’d, with their headsDepending low, and with enfeebled limbs,290Even as that same Irus, while I speak,With chin on bosom propp’d at the hall-gateSits drunkard-like, incapable to standErect, or to regain his proper home.So they; and now addressing to the QueenHis speech, Eurymachus thus interposed.O daughter of Icarius! could all eyesThroughout Iäsian Argos81view thy charms,Discrete Penelope! more suitors stillAssembling in thy courts would banquet here300From morn to eve; for thou surpassest farIn beauty, stature, worth, all womankind.To whom replied Penelope discrete.The Gods, Eurymachus! reduced to noughtMy virtue, beauty, stature, when the Greeks,Whom my Ulysses follow’d, sail’d to Troy.Could he, returning, my domestic chargeHimself intend, far better would my fameBe so secured, and wider far diffused.But I am wretched now, such storms the Gods310Of woe have sent me. When he left his home,Clasping my wrist with his right hand, he said.My love! for I imagine not that allThe warrior Greeks shall safe from Troy return,Since fame reports the Trojans brave in fight,Skill’d in the spear, mighty to draw the bow,And nimble vaulters to the backs of steedsHigh-mettled, which to speediest issue bringThe dreadful struggle of all-wasting war—I know not, therefore, whether heav’n intend320My safe return, or I must perish there.But manage thou at home. Cherish, as now,While I am absent, or more dearly stillMy parents, and what time our son thou seestMature, then wed; wed even whom thou wilt,And hence to a new home.—Such were his words,All which shall full accomplishment ere longReceive. The day is near, when hapless I,Lost to all comfort by the will of Jove,Must meet the nuptials that my soul abhors.330But this thought now afflicts me, and my mindContinual haunts. Such was not heretoforeThe suitors’ custom’d practice; all who choseTo engage in competition for a wifeWell-qualitied and well-endow’d, producedFrom their own herds and fatted flocks a feastFor the bride’s friends, and splendid presents made,But never ate as ye, at others’ cost.She ceased; then brave Ulysses toil-inuredRejoiced that, soothing them, she sought to draw340From each some gift, although on other views,And more important far, himself intent.Then thus Antinoüs, Eupithes’ son.Icarius’ daughter wise! only acceptSuch gifts as we shall bring, for gifts demandThat grace, nor can be decently refused;But to our rural labours, or elsewhereDepart not we, till first thy choice be madeOf the Achaian, chief in thy esteem.Antinoüs spake, whose answer all approved.350Then each dispatch’d his herald who should bringHis master’s gift. Antinoüs’ herald, firstA mantle of surpassing beauty brought,Wide, various, with no fewer clasps adorn’dThan twelve, all golden, and to ev’ry claspWas fitted opposite its eye exact.Next, to Eurymachus his herald boreA necklace of wrought gold, with amber richBestudded, ev’ry bead bright as a sun.Two servants for Eurydamas produced360Ear-pendants fashion’d with laborious art,Broad, triple-gemm’d, of brilliant light profuse.The herald of Polyctor’s son, the princePisander, brought a collar to his Lord,A sumptuous ornament. Each Greecian gave,And each a gift dissimilar from all.Then, loveliest of her sex, turning away,She sought her chamber, whom her maidens fairAttended, charged with those illustrious gifts.Then turn’d, they all to dance and pleasant song370Joyous, expecting the approach of ev’n.Ere long the dusky evening came, and themFound sporting still. Then, placing in the hallThree hearths that should illumine wide the house,They compass’d them around with fuel-woodLong-season’d and new-split, mingling the sticksWith torches. The attendant women watch’dAnd fed those fires by turns, to whom, himself,Their unknown Sov’reign thus his speech address’d.Ye maidens of the long-regretted Chief380Ulysses! to the inner-courts retire,And to your virtuous Queen, that following thereYour sev’ral tasks, spinning and combing wool,Ye may amuse her; I, meantime, for theseWill furnish light, and should they chuse to stayTill golden morn appear, they shall not tireMy patience aught, for I can much endure.He said; they, titt’ring, on each other gazed.But one, Melantho with the blooming cheeks,Rebuked him rudely. Dolius was her sire,390But by Penelope she had been rearedWith care maternal, and in infant yearsSupplied with many a toy; yet even sheFelt not her mistress’ sorrows in her heart,But, of Eurymachus enamour’d, oftHis lewd embraces met; she, with sharp speechReproachful, to Ulysses thus replied.Why—what a brainsick vagabond art thou!Who neither wilt to the smith’s forge retireFor sleep, nor to the public portico,400But here remaining, with audacious prateDisturb’st this num’rous company, restrain’dBy no respect or fear; either thou artWith wine intoxicated, or, perchance,Art always fool, and therefore babblest now.Say, art thou drunk with joy that thou hast foiledThe beggar Irus? Tremble, lest a manStronger than Irus suddenly arise,Who on thy temples pelting thee with blowsFar heavier than his, shall drive thee hence410With many a bruise, and foul with thy own blood.To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied.Snarler! Telemachus shall be inform’dThis moment of thy eloquent harangue,That he may hew thee for it, limb from limb.So saying, he scared the women; back they flewInto the house, but each with falt’ring kneesThrough dread, for they believ’d his threats sincere.He, then illumin’d by the triple blaze,Watch’d close the lights, busy from hearth to hearth,420But in his soul, meantime, far other thoughtsRevolved, tremendous, not conceived in vain.Nor Pallas (that they might exasp’rate moreLaertes’ son) permitted to abstainFrom heart-corroding bitterness of speechThose suitors proud, of whom Eurymachus,Offspring of Polybus, while thus he jeer’dUlysses, set the others in a roar.Hear me, ye suitors of the illustrious Queen!I shall promulge my thought. This man, methinks,430Not unconducted by the Gods, hath reach’dUlysses’ mansion, for to me the lightOf yonder torches altogether seemsHis own, an emanation from his head,Which not the smallest growth of hair obscures.He ended; and the city-waster ChiefHimself accosted next. Art thou disposedTo serve me, friend! would I afford thee hire,A labourer at my farm? thou shalt not wantSufficient wages; thou may’st there collect440Stones for my fences, and may’st plant my oaks,For which I would supply thee all the yearWith food, and cloaths, and sandals for thy feet.But thou hast learn’d less creditable arts,Nor hast a will to work, preferring muchBy beggary from others to extortWherewith to feed thy never-sated maw.Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.Forbear, Eurymachus; for were we match’dIn work against each other, thou and I,450Mowing in spring-time, when the days are long,I with my well-bent sickle in my hand,Thou arm’d with one as keen, for trial sakeOf our ability to toil unfedTill night, grass still sufficing for the proof.—Or if, again, it were our task to driveYoked oxen of the noblest breed, sleek-hair’d,Big-limb’d, both batten’d to the full with grass,Their age and aptitude for work the sameNot soon to be fatigued, and were the field460In size four acres, with a glebe through whichThe share might smoothly slide, then should’st thou seeHow strait my furrow should be cut and true.—Or should Saturnian Jove this day exciteHere, battle, or elsewhere, and were I arm’dWith two bright spears and with a shield, and boreA brazen casque well-fitted to my brows,Me, then, thou should’st perceive mingling in fightAmid the foremost Chiefs, nor with the crimeOf idle beggary should’st upbraid me more.470But thou art much a railer, one whose heartPity moves not, and seem’st a mighty manAnd valiant to thyself, only becauseThou herd’st with few, and those of little worth.But should Ulysses come, at his own isleAgain arrived, wide as these portals are,To thee, at once, too narrow they should seemTo shoot thee forth with speed enough abroad.He ceased—then tenfold indignation firedEurymachus; he furrow’d deep his brow480With frowns, and in wing’d accents thus replied.Wretch, I shall roughly handle thee anon,Who thus with fluent prate presumptuous dar’stDisturb this num’rous company, restrain’dBy no respect or fear. Either thou artWith wine intoxicated, or, perchance,Art always fool, and therefore babblest now;Or thou art frantic haply with delightThat thou hast foil’d yon vagabond obscure.So saying, he seized a stool; but to the knees490Ulysses flew of the Dulichian PrinceAmphinomus, and sat, fearing incensedEurymachus; he on his better handSmote full the cup-bearer; on the hall-floorLoud rang the fallen beaker, and himselfLay on his back clamouring in the dust.Strait through the dusky hall tumult ensuedAmong the suitors, of whom thus, a youth,With eyes directed to the next, exclaim’d.Would that this rambling stranger had elsewhere500Perish’d, or ever he had here arrived,Then no such uproar had he caused as this!This doth the beggar; he it is for whomWe wrangle thus, and may despair of peaceOr pleasure more; now look for strife alone.Then in the midst Telemachus upstoodMajestic, and the suitors thus bespake.Sirs! ye are mad, and can no longer eatOr drink in peace; some dæmon troubles you.But since ye all have feasted, to your homes510Go now, and, at your pleasure, to your beds;Soonest were best, but I thrust no man hence.He ceased; they gnawing stood their lips, aghastWith wonder that Telemachus in his speechSuch boldness used. Then rose Amphinomus,Brave son of Nisus offspring of the KingAretus, and the assembly thus address’d.My friends! let none with contradiction thwartAnd rude reply words rational and just;Assault no more the stranger, nor of all520The servants of renown’d Ulysses hereHarm any. Come. Let the cup-bearer fillTo all, that due libation made, to restWe may repair at home, leaving the PrinceTo accommodate beneath his father’s roofThe stranger, for he is the Prince’s guest.He ended, whose advice none disapproved.The Hero Mulius then, Dulichian-born,And herald of Amphinomus, the cupFilling, dispensed it, as he stood, to all;530They, pouring forth to the Immortals, quaff’dThe luscious bev’rage, and when each had madeLibation, and such measure as he wouldOf wine had drunk, then all to rest retired.79Tradition says that Echetus, for a love-affair, condemned his daughter to lose her eyes, and to grind iron barley-grains, while her lover was doomed to suffer what Antinoüs threatens to Irus. F.80This seems the sort of laughter intended by the wordΑχρειον.81From Iäsus, once King of Peloponnesus.

The beggar Irus arrives at the palace; a combat takes place between him and Ulysses, in which Irus is by one blow vanquished. Penelope appears to the suitors, and having reminded them of the presents which she had a right to expect from them, receives a gift from each. Eurymachus, provoked by a speech of Ulysses, flings a foot-stool at him, which knocks down the cup-bearer; a general tumult is the consequence, which continues, till by the advice of Telemachus, seconded by Amphinomus, the suitors retire to their respective homes.

Now came a public mendicant, a manAccustom’d, seeking alms, to roam the streetsOf Ithaca; one never sated yetWith food or drink; yet muscle had he none,Or strength of limb, though giant-built in show.Arnæus was the name which at his birthHis mother gave him, but the youthful bandOf suitors, whom as messenger he served,All named him Irus. He, arriving, soughtTo drive Ulysses forth from his own home,10And in rough accents rude him thus rebuked.Forth from the porch, old man! lest by the footI drag thee quickly forth. Seest not how allWink on me, and by signs give me commandTo drag thee hence? nor is it aught but shameThat checks me. Yet arise, lest soon with fistsThou force me to adjust our diff’rence.To whom Ulysses, low’ring dark, replied.Peace, fellow! neither word nor deed of mineWrongs thee, nor feel I envy at the boon,20However plentiful, which thou receiv’st.The sill may hold us both; thou dost not wellTo envy others; thou appear’st like meA vagrant; plenty is the gift of heav’n.But urge me not to trial of our fists,Lest thou provoke me, and I stain with bloodThy bosom and thy lips, old as I am.So, my attendance should to-morrow proveMore tranquil here; for thou should’st leave, I judge,Ulysses’ mansion, never to return.30Then answer’d Irus, kindling with disdain.Gods! with what volubility of speechThe table-hunter prates, like an old hagCollied with chimney-smutch! but ah beware!For I intend thee mischief, and to dashWith both hands ev’ry grinder from thy gums,As men untooth a pig pilf’ring the corn.Come—gird thee, that all here may view the strife—But how wilt thou oppose one young as I?Thus on the threshold of the lofty gate40They, wrangling, chafed each other, whose disputeThe high-born youth Antinoüs mark’d; he laugh’dDelighted, and the suitors thus address’d.Oh friends! no pastime ever yet occurr’dPleasant as this which, now, the Gods themselvesAfford us. Irus and the stranger brawlAs they would box. Haste—let us urge them on.He said; at once loud-laughing all arose;The ill-clad disputants they round aboutEncompass’d, and Antinoüs thus began.50Attend ye noble suitors to my voice.Two paunches lie of goats here on the fire,Which fill’d with fat and blood we set apartFor supper; he who conquers, and in forceSuperior proves, shall freely take the paunchWhich he prefers, and shall with us thenceforthFeast always; neither will we here admitPoor man beside to beg at our repasts.He spake, whom all approved; next, artful ChiefUlysses thus, dissembling, them address’d.60Princes! unequal is the strife betweenA young man and an old with mis’ry worn;But hunger, always counsellor of ill,Me moves to fight, that many a bruise received,I may be foil’d at last. Now swear ye allA solemn oath, that none, for Irus’ sakeShall, interposing, smite me with his fistClandestine, forcing me to yield the prize.He ceas’d, and, as he bade, all present sworeA solemn oath; then thus, amid them all70Standing, Telemachus majestic spake.Guest! if thy courage and thy manly mindPrompt thee to banish this man hence, no forceFear thou beside, for who smites thee, shall findYet other foes to cope with; I am hereIn the host’s office, and the royal ChiefsEurymachus and Antinoüs, alikeDiscrete, accord unanimous with me.He ceas’d, whom all approved. Then, with his ragsUlysses braced for decency his loins80Around, but gave to view his brawny thighsProportion’d fair, and stripp’d his shoulders broad,His chest and arms robust; while, at his side,Dilating more the Hero’s limbs and moreMinerva stood; the assembly with fixt eyesAstonish’d gazed on him, and, looking fullOn his next friend, a suitor thus remark’d.Irus shall be in Irus found no more.He hath pull’d evil on himself. What thewesAnd what a haunch the senior’s tatters hid!90So he—meantime in Irus’ heart aroseHorrible tumult; yet, his loins by forceGirding, the servants dragg’d him to the fightPale, and his flesh all quiv’ring as he came;Whose terrors thus Antinoüs sharp rebuked.Now, wherefore liv’st, and why wast ever bornThou mountain-mass of earth! if such dismayShake thee at thought of combat with a manAncient as he, and worn with many woes?But mark, I threaten not in vain; should he100O’ercome thee, and in force superior prove,To Echetus thou go’st; my sable barkShall waft thee to Epirus, where he reignsEnemy of mankind; of nose and earsHe shall despoil thee with his ruthless steel,And tearing by the roots the parts away79That mark thy sex, shall cast them to the dogs.He said;Hislimbs new terrors at that soundShook under him; into the middle spaceThey led him, and each raised his hands on high.110Then doubtful stood Ulysses toil-inured,Whether to strike him lifeless to the earthAt once, or fell him with a managed blow.To smite with managed force at length he choseAs wisest, lest, betray’d by his own strength,He should be known. With elevated fistsBoth stood; him Irus on the shoulder struck,But he his adversary on the neckPash’d close beneath his ear; he split the bones,And blood in sable streams ran from his mouth.120With many an hideous yell he dropp’d, his teethChatter’d, and with his heels he drumm’d the ground.The wooers, at that sight, lifting their handsIn glad surprize, laugh’d all their breath away.Then, through the vestibule, and right acrossThe court, Ulysses dragg’d him by the footInto the portico, where propping himAgainst the wall, and giving him his staff,In accents wing’d he bade him thus farewell.There seated now, dogs drive and swine away,130Nor claim (thyself so base) supreme controulO’er other guests and mendicants, lest harmReach thee, hereafter, heavier still than this.So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his backHe threw suspended by its leathern twist,And tow’rd the threshold turning, sat again,They laughing ceaseless still, the palace-doorRe-enter’d, and him, courteous, thus bespake.Jove, and all Jove’s assessors in the skiesVouchsafe thee, stranger, whatsoe’er it be,140Thy heart’s desire! who hast our ears reliev’dFrom that insatiate beggar’s irksome tone.Soon to Epirus he shall go dispatch’dTo Echetus the King, pest of mankind.So they, to whose propitious words the ChiefListen’d delighted. Then Antinoüs placedThe paunch before him, and AmphinomusTwo loaves, selected from the rest; he fill’dA goblet also, drank to him, and said,My father, hail! O stranger, be thy lot150Hereafter blest, though adverse now and hard!To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.To me, Amphinomus, endued thou seem’stWith much discretion, who art also sonOf such a sire, whose fair report I know,Dulichian Nysus, opulent and good.Fame speaks thee his, and thou appear’st a manJudicious; hear me, therefore; mark me well.Earth nourishes, of all that breathe or creep,No creature weak as man; for while the Gods160Grant him prosperity and health, no fearHath he, or thought, that he shall ever mourn;But when the Gods with evils unforeseenSmite him, he bears them with a grudging mind;For such as the complexion of his lotBy the appointment of the Sire of all,Such is the colour of the mind of man.I, too, have been familiar in my dayWith wealth and ease, but I was then self-will’d,And many wrong’d, embolden’d by the thought170Of my own father’s and my brethren’s pow’r.Let no man, therefore, be unjust, but eachUse modestly what gift soe’er of heav’n.So do not these. These ever bent I seeOn deeds injurious, the possessions largeConsuming, and dishonouring the wifeOf one, who will not, as I judge, remainLong absent from his home, but is, perchance,Ev’n at the door. Thee, therefore, may the GodsSteal hence in time! ah, meet not his return180To his own country! for they will not part,(He and the suitors) without blood, I think,If once he enter at these gates again!He ended, and, libation pouring, quaff’dThe generous juice, then in the prince’s handReplaced the cup; he, pensive, and his headInclining low, pass’d from him; for his heartForboded ill; yet ’scaped not even he,But in the snare of Pallas caught, his lifeTo the heroic arm and spear resign’d190Of brave Telemachus. Reaching, at length,The seat whence he had ris’n, he sat again.Minerva then, Goddess, cærulean-eyed,Prompted Icarius’ daughter to appearBefore the suitors; so to expose the moreTheir drift iniquitous, and that herselfMore bright than ever in her husband’s eyesMight shine, and in her son’s. Much mirth she feign’d,80And, bursting into laughter, thus began.I wish, Eurynome! (who never felt200That wish till now) though I detest them all,To appear before the suitors, in whose earsI will admonish, for his good, my son,Not to associate with that lawless crewToo much, who speak him fair, but foul intend.Then answer thus Eurynome return’d.My daughter! wisely hast thou said and well.Go! bathe thee and anoint thy face, then giveTo thy dear son such counsel as thou wiltWithout reserve; but shew not there thy cheeks210Sullied with tears, for profit none accruesFrom grief like thine, that never knows a change.And he is now bearded, and hath attainedThat age which thou wast wont with warmest pray’rTo implore the Gods that he might live to see.Her answer’d then Penelope discrete.Persuade not me, though studious of my good,To bathe, Eurynome! or to anointMy face with oil; for all my charms the GodsInhabitants of Olympus then destroy’d,220When he, embarking, left me. Go, commandHippodamia and AutonöeThat they attend me to the hall, and waitBeside me there; for decency forbidsThat I should enter to the men, alone.She ceas’d, and through the house the ancient dameHasted to summon whom she had enjoin’d.But Pallas, Goddess of the azure eyes,Diffused, meantime, the kindly dew of sleepAround Icarius’ daughter; on her couch230Reclining, soon as she reclin’d, she dozed,And yielded to soft slumber all her frame.Then, that the suitors might admire her more,The glorious Goddess cloath’d her, as she lay,With beauty of the skies; her lovely faceShe with ambrosia purified, with suchAs Cytherea chaplet-crown’d employsHerself, when in the eye-ensnaring danceShe joins the Graces; to a statelier heightBeneath her touch, and ampler size she grew,240And fairer than the elephantine boneFresh from the carver’s hand. These gifts conferr’dDivine, the awful Deity retired.And now, loud-prattling as they came, arrivedHer handmaids; sleep forsook her at the sound,She wiped away a tear, and thus she said.Me gentle sleep, sad mourner as I am,Hath here involved. O would that by a deathAs gentle chaste Diana would herselfThis moment set me free, that I might waste250My life no longer in heart-felt regretOf a lamented husband’s various worthAnd virtue, for in Greece no Peer had he!She said, and through her chambers’ stately doorIssuing, descended; neither went she sole,But with those two fair menials of her train.Arriving, most majestic of her sex,In presence of the num’rous guests, beneathThe portal of the stately dome she stoodBetween her maidens, with her lucid veil260Mantling her lovely cheeks. Then, ev’ry kneeTrembled, and ev’ry heart with am’rous heatDissolv’d, her charms all coveting alike,While to Telemachus her son she spake.Telemachus! thou art no longer wiseAs once thou wast, and even when a child.For thriven as thou art, and at full sizeArrived of man, so fair proportion’d, too,That ev’n a stranger, looking on thy growthAnd beauty, would pronounce thee nobly born,270Yet is thy intellect still immature.For what is this? why suffer’st thou a guestTo be abused in thy own palace? how?Know’st not that if the stranger seated hereEndure vexation, the disgrace is thine?Her answer’d, then, Telemachus discrete.I blame thee not, my mother, that thou feel’stThine anger moved; yet want I not a mindAble to mark and to discern betweenEvil and good, child as I lately was,280Although I find not promptitude of thoughtSufficient always, overaw’d and check’dBy such a multitude, all bent alikeOn mischief, of whom none takes part with me.But Irus and the stranger have not fought,Urged by the suitors, and the stranger prov’dVictorious; yes—heav’n knows how much I wishThat, (in the palace some, some in the court)The suitors all sat vanquish’d, with their headsDepending low, and with enfeebled limbs,290Even as that same Irus, while I speak,With chin on bosom propp’d at the hall-gateSits drunkard-like, incapable to standErect, or to regain his proper home.So they; and now addressing to the QueenHis speech, Eurymachus thus interposed.O daughter of Icarius! could all eyesThroughout Iäsian Argos81view thy charms,Discrete Penelope! more suitors stillAssembling in thy courts would banquet here300From morn to eve; for thou surpassest farIn beauty, stature, worth, all womankind.To whom replied Penelope discrete.The Gods, Eurymachus! reduced to noughtMy virtue, beauty, stature, when the Greeks,Whom my Ulysses follow’d, sail’d to Troy.Could he, returning, my domestic chargeHimself intend, far better would my fameBe so secured, and wider far diffused.But I am wretched now, such storms the Gods310Of woe have sent me. When he left his home,Clasping my wrist with his right hand, he said.My love! for I imagine not that allThe warrior Greeks shall safe from Troy return,Since fame reports the Trojans brave in fight,Skill’d in the spear, mighty to draw the bow,And nimble vaulters to the backs of steedsHigh-mettled, which to speediest issue bringThe dreadful struggle of all-wasting war—I know not, therefore, whether heav’n intend320My safe return, or I must perish there.But manage thou at home. Cherish, as now,While I am absent, or more dearly stillMy parents, and what time our son thou seestMature, then wed; wed even whom thou wilt,And hence to a new home.—Such were his words,All which shall full accomplishment ere longReceive. The day is near, when hapless I,Lost to all comfort by the will of Jove,Must meet the nuptials that my soul abhors.330But this thought now afflicts me, and my mindContinual haunts. Such was not heretoforeThe suitors’ custom’d practice; all who choseTo engage in competition for a wifeWell-qualitied and well-endow’d, producedFrom their own herds and fatted flocks a feastFor the bride’s friends, and splendid presents made,But never ate as ye, at others’ cost.She ceased; then brave Ulysses toil-inuredRejoiced that, soothing them, she sought to draw340From each some gift, although on other views,And more important far, himself intent.Then thus Antinoüs, Eupithes’ son.Icarius’ daughter wise! only acceptSuch gifts as we shall bring, for gifts demandThat grace, nor can be decently refused;But to our rural labours, or elsewhereDepart not we, till first thy choice be madeOf the Achaian, chief in thy esteem.Antinoüs spake, whose answer all approved.350Then each dispatch’d his herald who should bringHis master’s gift. Antinoüs’ herald, firstA mantle of surpassing beauty brought,Wide, various, with no fewer clasps adorn’dThan twelve, all golden, and to ev’ry claspWas fitted opposite its eye exact.Next, to Eurymachus his herald boreA necklace of wrought gold, with amber richBestudded, ev’ry bead bright as a sun.Two servants for Eurydamas produced360Ear-pendants fashion’d with laborious art,Broad, triple-gemm’d, of brilliant light profuse.The herald of Polyctor’s son, the princePisander, brought a collar to his Lord,A sumptuous ornament. Each Greecian gave,And each a gift dissimilar from all.Then, loveliest of her sex, turning away,She sought her chamber, whom her maidens fairAttended, charged with those illustrious gifts.Then turn’d, they all to dance and pleasant song370Joyous, expecting the approach of ev’n.Ere long the dusky evening came, and themFound sporting still. Then, placing in the hallThree hearths that should illumine wide the house,They compass’d them around with fuel-woodLong-season’d and new-split, mingling the sticksWith torches. The attendant women watch’dAnd fed those fires by turns, to whom, himself,Their unknown Sov’reign thus his speech address’d.Ye maidens of the long-regretted Chief380Ulysses! to the inner-courts retire,And to your virtuous Queen, that following thereYour sev’ral tasks, spinning and combing wool,Ye may amuse her; I, meantime, for theseWill furnish light, and should they chuse to stayTill golden morn appear, they shall not tireMy patience aught, for I can much endure.He said; they, titt’ring, on each other gazed.But one, Melantho with the blooming cheeks,Rebuked him rudely. Dolius was her sire,390But by Penelope she had been rearedWith care maternal, and in infant yearsSupplied with many a toy; yet even sheFelt not her mistress’ sorrows in her heart,But, of Eurymachus enamour’d, oftHis lewd embraces met; she, with sharp speechReproachful, to Ulysses thus replied.Why—what a brainsick vagabond art thou!Who neither wilt to the smith’s forge retireFor sleep, nor to the public portico,400But here remaining, with audacious prateDisturb’st this num’rous company, restrain’dBy no respect or fear; either thou artWith wine intoxicated, or, perchance,Art always fool, and therefore babblest now.Say, art thou drunk with joy that thou hast foiledThe beggar Irus? Tremble, lest a manStronger than Irus suddenly arise,Who on thy temples pelting thee with blowsFar heavier than his, shall drive thee hence410With many a bruise, and foul with thy own blood.To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied.Snarler! Telemachus shall be inform’dThis moment of thy eloquent harangue,That he may hew thee for it, limb from limb.So saying, he scared the women; back they flewInto the house, but each with falt’ring kneesThrough dread, for they believ’d his threats sincere.He, then illumin’d by the triple blaze,Watch’d close the lights, busy from hearth to hearth,420But in his soul, meantime, far other thoughtsRevolved, tremendous, not conceived in vain.Nor Pallas (that they might exasp’rate moreLaertes’ son) permitted to abstainFrom heart-corroding bitterness of speechThose suitors proud, of whom Eurymachus,Offspring of Polybus, while thus he jeer’dUlysses, set the others in a roar.Hear me, ye suitors of the illustrious Queen!I shall promulge my thought. This man, methinks,430Not unconducted by the Gods, hath reach’dUlysses’ mansion, for to me the lightOf yonder torches altogether seemsHis own, an emanation from his head,Which not the smallest growth of hair obscures.He ended; and the city-waster ChiefHimself accosted next. Art thou disposedTo serve me, friend! would I afford thee hire,A labourer at my farm? thou shalt not wantSufficient wages; thou may’st there collect440Stones for my fences, and may’st plant my oaks,For which I would supply thee all the yearWith food, and cloaths, and sandals for thy feet.But thou hast learn’d less creditable arts,Nor hast a will to work, preferring muchBy beggary from others to extortWherewith to feed thy never-sated maw.Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.Forbear, Eurymachus; for were we match’dIn work against each other, thou and I,450Mowing in spring-time, when the days are long,I with my well-bent sickle in my hand,Thou arm’d with one as keen, for trial sakeOf our ability to toil unfedTill night, grass still sufficing for the proof.—Or if, again, it were our task to driveYoked oxen of the noblest breed, sleek-hair’d,Big-limb’d, both batten’d to the full with grass,Their age and aptitude for work the sameNot soon to be fatigued, and were the field460In size four acres, with a glebe through whichThe share might smoothly slide, then should’st thou seeHow strait my furrow should be cut and true.—Or should Saturnian Jove this day exciteHere, battle, or elsewhere, and were I arm’dWith two bright spears and with a shield, and boreA brazen casque well-fitted to my brows,Me, then, thou should’st perceive mingling in fightAmid the foremost Chiefs, nor with the crimeOf idle beggary should’st upbraid me more.470But thou art much a railer, one whose heartPity moves not, and seem’st a mighty manAnd valiant to thyself, only becauseThou herd’st with few, and those of little worth.But should Ulysses come, at his own isleAgain arrived, wide as these portals are,To thee, at once, too narrow they should seemTo shoot thee forth with speed enough abroad.He ceased—then tenfold indignation firedEurymachus; he furrow’d deep his brow480With frowns, and in wing’d accents thus replied.Wretch, I shall roughly handle thee anon,Who thus with fluent prate presumptuous dar’stDisturb this num’rous company, restrain’dBy no respect or fear. Either thou artWith wine intoxicated, or, perchance,Art always fool, and therefore babblest now;Or thou art frantic haply with delightThat thou hast foil’d yon vagabond obscure.So saying, he seized a stool; but to the knees490Ulysses flew of the Dulichian PrinceAmphinomus, and sat, fearing incensedEurymachus; he on his better handSmote full the cup-bearer; on the hall-floorLoud rang the fallen beaker, and himselfLay on his back clamouring in the dust.Strait through the dusky hall tumult ensuedAmong the suitors, of whom thus, a youth,With eyes directed to the next, exclaim’d.Would that this rambling stranger had elsewhere500Perish’d, or ever he had here arrived,Then no such uproar had he caused as this!This doth the beggar; he it is for whomWe wrangle thus, and may despair of peaceOr pleasure more; now look for strife alone.Then in the midst Telemachus upstoodMajestic, and the suitors thus bespake.Sirs! ye are mad, and can no longer eatOr drink in peace; some dæmon troubles you.But since ye all have feasted, to your homes510Go now, and, at your pleasure, to your beds;Soonest were best, but I thrust no man hence.He ceased; they gnawing stood their lips, aghastWith wonder that Telemachus in his speechSuch boldness used. Then rose Amphinomus,Brave son of Nisus offspring of the KingAretus, and the assembly thus address’d.My friends! let none with contradiction thwartAnd rude reply words rational and just;Assault no more the stranger, nor of all520The servants of renown’d Ulysses hereHarm any. Come. Let the cup-bearer fillTo all, that due libation made, to restWe may repair at home, leaving the PrinceTo accommodate beneath his father’s roofThe stranger, for he is the Prince’s guest.He ended, whose advice none disapproved.The Hero Mulius then, Dulichian-born,And herald of Amphinomus, the cupFilling, dispensed it, as he stood, to all;530They, pouring forth to the Immortals, quaff’dThe luscious bev’rage, and when each had madeLibation, and such measure as he wouldOf wine had drunk, then all to rest retired.

79Tradition says that Echetus, for a love-affair, condemned his daughter to lose her eyes, and to grind iron barley-grains, while her lover was doomed to suffer what Antinoüs threatens to Irus. F.80This seems the sort of laughter intended by the wordΑχρειον.81From Iäsus, once King of Peloponnesus.

79Tradition says that Echetus, for a love-affair, condemned his daughter to lose her eyes, and to grind iron barley-grains, while her lover was doomed to suffer what Antinoüs threatens to Irus. F.

80This seems the sort of laughter intended by the wordΑχρειον.

81From Iäsus, once King of Peloponnesus.

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