BOOK XXI

BOOK XXIARGUMENTPenelope proposes to the suitors a contest with the bow, herself the prize. They prove unable to bend the bow; when Ulysses having with some difficulty possessed himself of it, manages it with the utmost ease, and dispatches his arrow through twelve rings erected for the trial.Minerva, now, Goddess cærulean-eyed,Prompted Icarius’ daughter, the discretePenelope, with bow and rings to proveHer suitors in Ulysses’ courts, a gameTerrible in conclusion to them all.First, taking in her hand the brazen keyWell-forged, and fitted with an iv’ry grasp,Attended by the women of her trainShe sought her inmost chamber, the recessIn which she kept the treasures of her Lord,10His brass, his gold, and steel elaborate.Here lay his stubborn bow, and quiver fill’dWith num’rous shafts, a fatal store. That bowHe had received and quiver from the handOf godlike Iphitus Eurytides,Whom, in Messenia,96in the house he metOf brave Orsilochus. Ulysses cameDemanding payment of arrearage dueFrom all that land; for a Messenian fleetHad borne from Ithaca three hundred sheep,20With all their shepherds; for which cause, ere yetAdult, he voyaged to that distant shore,Deputed by his sire, and by the ChiefsOf Ithaca, to make the just demand.But Iphitus had thither come to seekTwelve mares and twelve mule colts which he had lost,A search that cost him soon a bloody death.For, coming to the house of HerculesThe valiant task-performing son of Jove,He perish’d there, slain by his cruel host30Who, heedless of heav’n’s wrath, and of the rightsOf his own board, first fed, then slaughter’d him;For inhishouse the mares and colts were hidden.He, therefore, occupied in that concern,Meeting Ulysses there, gave him the bowWhich, erst, huge Eurytus had borne, and whichHimself had from his dying sire received.Ulysses, in return, on him bestowedA spear and sword, pledges of future loveAnd hospitality; but never more40They met each other at the friendly board,For, ere that hour arrived, the son of JoveSlew his own guest, the godlike Iphitus.Thus came the bow into Ulysses’ hands,Which, never in his gallant barks he boreTo battle with him, (though he used it oftIn times of peace) but left it safely storedAt home, a dear memorial of his friend.Soon as, divinest of her sex, arrivedAt that same chamber, with her foot she press’d50The oaken threshold bright, on which the handOf no mean architect had stretch’d the line,Who had erected also on each sideThe posts on which the splendid portals hung,She loos’d the ring and brace, then introducedThe key, and aiming at them from without,97Struck back the bolts. The portals, at that stroke,Sent forth a tone deep as the pastur’d bull’s,And flew wide open. She, ascending, next,The elevated floor on which the chests60That held her own fragrant apparel stood,With lifted hand aloft took down the bowIn its embroider’d bow-case safe enclosed.Then, sitting there, she lay’d it on her knees,Weeping aloud, and drew it from the case.Thus weeping over it long time she sat,Till satiate, at the last, with grief and tears,Descending by the palace steps she soughtAgain the haughty suitors, with the bowElastic, and the quiver in her hand70Replete with pointed shafts, a deadly store.Her maidens, as she went, bore after herA coffer fill’d with prizes by her Lord,Much brass and steel; and when at length she came,Loveliest of women, where the suitors sat,Between the pillars of the stately domePausing, before her beauteous face she heldHer lucid veil, and by two matrons chasteSupported, the assembly thus address’d.Ye noble suitors hear, who rudely haunt80This palace of a Chief long absent hence,Whose substance ye have now long time consumed,Nor palliative have yet contrived, or could,Save your ambition to make me a bride—Attend this game to which I call you forth.Now suitors! prove yourselves with this huge bowOf wide-renown’d Ulysses; he who drawsEasiest the bow, and who his arrow sendsThrough twice six rings, he takes me to his home,And I must leave this mansion of my youth90Plenteous, magnificent, which, doubtless, oftI shall remember even in my dreams.So saying, she bade Eumæus lay the bowBefore them, and the twice six rings of steel.He wept, received them, and obey’d; nor weptThe herdsman less, seeing the bow which erstHis Lord had occupied; when at their tearsIndignant, thus, Antinoüs began.Ye rural drones, whose purblind eyes see notBeyond the present hour, egregious fools!100Why weeping trouble ye the Queen, too muchBefore afflicted for her husband lost?Either partake the banquet silently,Or else go weep abroad, leaving the bow,That stubborn test, to us; for none, I judge,None here shall bend this polish’d bow with ease,Since in this whole assembly I discernNone like Ulysses, whom myself have seenAnd recollect, though I was then a boy.He said, but in his heart, meantime, the hope110Cherish’d, that he should bend, himself, the bow,And pass the rings; yet was he destin’d firstOf all that company to taste the steelOf brave Ulysses’ shaft, whom in that houseHe had so oft dishonour’d, and had urgedSo oft all others to the like offence.Amidst them, then, the sacred might aroseOf young Telemachus, who thus began.Saturnian Jove questionless hath deprivedMe of all reason. My own mother, fam’d120For wisdom as she is, makes known to allHer purpose to abandon this abodeAnd follow a new mate, while, heedless, ITrifle and laugh as I were still a child.But come, ye suitors! since the prize is such,A woman like to whom none can be foundThis day in all Achaia; on the shoresOf sacred Pylus; in the cities proudOf Argos or Mycenæ; or even hereIn Ithaca; or yet within the walls130Of black Epirus; and since this yourselvesKnow also, wherefore should I speak her praise?Come then, delay not, waste not time in vainExcuses, turn not from the proof, but bendThe bow, that thus the issue may be known.I also will, myself, that task essay;And should I bend the bow, and pass the rings,Then shall not my illustrious mother leaveHer son forlorn, forsaking this abodeTo follow a new spouse, while I remain140Disconsolate, although of age to bear,Successful as my sire, the prize away.So saying, he started from his seat, cast offHis purple cloak, and lay’d his sword aside,Then fix’d, himself, the rings, furrowing the earthBy line, and op’ning one long trench for all,And stamping close the glebe. Amazement seizedAll present, seeing with how prompt a skillHe executed, though untaught, his task.Then, hasting to the portal, there he stood.150Thrice, struggling, he essay’d to bend the bow,And thrice desisted, hoping still to drawThe bow-string home, and shoot through all the rings.98And now the fourth time striving with full forceHe had prevail’d to string it, but his sireForbad his eager efforts by a sign.Then thus the royal youth to all around—Gods! either I shall prove of little forceHereafter, and for manly feats unapt,Or I am yet too young, and have not strength160To quell the aggressor’s contumely. But come—(For ye have strength surpassing mine) try yeThe bow, and bring this contest to an end.He ceas’d, and set the bow down on the floor,Reclining it against the shaven pannels smoothThat lined the wall; the arrow next he placed,Leaning against the bow’s bright-polish’d horn,And to the seat, whence he had ris’n, return’d.Then thus Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs spake.My friends! come forth successive from the right,99170Where he who ministers the cup begins.So spake Antinoüs, and his counsel pleased.Then, first, Leiodes, Œnop’s son, arose.He was their soothsayer, and ever satBeside the beaker, inmost of them all.To him alone, of all, licentious deedsWere odious, and, with indignation fired,He witness’d the excesses of the rest.He then took foremost up the shaft and bow,And, station’d at the portal, strove to bend180But bent it not, fatiguing, first, his handsDelicate and uncustom’d to the toil.He ceased, and the assembly thus bespake.My friends, I speed not; let another try;For many Princes shall this bow of lifeBereave, since death more eligible seems,Far more, than loss of her, for whom we meetContinual here, expecting still the prize.Some suitor, haply, at this moment, hopesThat he shall wed whom long he hath desired,190Ulysses’ wife, Penelope; let himEssay the bow, and, trial made, addressHis spousal offers to some other fairAmong the long-stoled Princesses of Greece,This Princess leaving his, whose proffer’d giftsShall please her most, and whom the Fates ordain.He said, and set the bow down on the floor,Reclining it against the shaven pannels smoothThat lined the wall; the arrow, next, he placed,Leaning against the bow’s bright-polish’d horn,200And to the seat whence he had ris’n return’d.Then him Antinoüs, angry, thus reproved.What word, Leiodes, grating to our earsHath scap’d thy lips? I hear it with disdain.Shall this bow fatal prove to many a Prince,Because thou hast, thyself, too feeble provedTo bend it? no. Thou wast not born to bendThe unpliant bow, or to direct the shaft,But here are nobler who shall soon prevail.He said, and to Melanthius gave command,210The goat-herd. Hence, Melanthius, kindle fire;Beside it place, with fleeces spread, a formOf length commodious; from within procureA large round cake of suet next, with whichWhen we have chafed and suppled the tough bowBefore the fire, we will again essayTo bend it, and decide the doubtful strife.He ended, and Melanthius, kindling fireBeside it placed, with fleeces spread, a formOf length commodious; next, he brought a cake220Ample and round of suet from within,With which they chafed the bow, then tried againTo bend, but bent it not; superior strengthTo theirs that task required. Yet two, the restIn force surpassing, made no trial yet,Antinoüs, and Eurymachus the brave.Then went the herdsman and the swine-herd forthTogether; after whom, the glorious ChiefHimself the house left also, and when allWithout the court had met, with gentle speech230Ulysses, then, the faithful pair address’d.Herdsman! and thou, Eumæus! shall I keepA certain secret close, or shall I speakOutright? my spirit prompts me, and I will.What welcome should Ulysses at your handsReceive, arriving suddenly at home,Some God his guide; would ye the suitors aid,Or would ye aid Ulysses? answer true.Then thus the chief intendant of his herds.Would Jove but grant me my desire, to see240Once more the Hero, and would some kind Pow’r,Restore him, I would shew thee soon an armStrenuous to serve him, and a dauntless heart.Eumæus, also, fervently imploredThe Gods in pray’r, that they would render backUlysses to his home. He, then, convincedOf their unfeigning honesty, began.Behold him! I am he myself, arrivedAfter long suff’rings in the twentieth year!I know how welcome to yourselves alone250Of all my train I come, for I have heardNone others praying for my safe return.I therefore tell you truth; should heav’n subdueThe suitors under me, ye shall receiveEach at my hands a bride, with lands and houseNear to my own, and ye shall be thenceforthDear friends and brothers of the Prince my son.Lo! also this indisputable proofThat ye may know and trust me. View it here.It is the scar which in Parnassus erst260(Where with the sons I hunted of renown’dAutolycus) I from a boar received.So saying, he stripp’d his tatters, and unveil’dThe whole broad scar; then, soon as they had seenAnd surely recognized the mark, each castHis arms around Ulysses, wept, embracedAnd press’d him to his bosom, kissing oftHis brows and shoulders, who as oft their handsAnd foreheads kiss’d, nor had the setting sunBeheld them satisfied, but that himself270Ulysses thus admonished them, and said.Cease now from tears, lest any, coming forth,Mark and report them to our foes within.Now, to the hall again, but one by one,Not all at once, I foremost, then yourselves,And this shall be the sign. Full well I knowThat, all unanimous, they will opposeDeliv’ry of the bow and shafts to me;But thou, (proceeding with it to my seat)Eumæus, noble friend! shalt give the bow280Into my grasp; then bid the women closeThe massy doors, and should they hear a groanOr other noise made by the Princes shutWithin the hall, let none set step abroad,But all work silent. Be the palace-doorThy charge, my good Philœtius! key it fastWithout a moment’s pause, and fix the brace.100He ended, and, returning to the hall,Resumed his seat; nor stay’d his servants longWithout, but follow’d their illustrious Lord.290Eurymachus was busily employ’dTurning the bow, and chafing it beforeThe sprightly blaze, but, after all, could findNo pow’r to bend it. Disappointment wrungA groan from his proud heart, and thus he said.Alas! not only for myself I grieve,But grieve for all. Nor, though I mourn the lossOf such a bride, mourn I that loss alone,(For lovely Greecians may be found no fewIn Ithaca, and in the neighbour isles)300But should we so inferior prove at lastTo brave Ulysses, that no force of oursCan bend his bow, we are for ever shamed.To whom Antinoüs, thus, Eupithes’ son.Not so; (as even thou art well-assuredThyself, Eurymachus!) but Phœbus claimsThis day his own. Who then, on such a day,Would strive to bend it? Let it rather rest.And should we leave the rings where now they stand,I trust that none ent’ring Ulysses’ house310Will dare displace them. Cup-bearer, attend!Serve all with wine, that, first, libation made,We may religiously lay down the bow.Command ye too Melanthius, that he driveHither the fairest goats of all his flocksAt dawn of day, that burning first, the thighsTo the ethereal archer, we may makeNew trial, and decide, at length, the strife.So spake Antinoüs, and his counsel pleased.The heralds, then, pour’d water on their hands,320While youths crown’d high the goblets which they boreFrom right to left, distributing to all.When each had made libation, and had drunkTill well sufficed, then, artful to effectHis shrewd designs, Ulysses thus began.Hear, O ye suitors of the illustrious Queen,My bosom’s dictates. But I shall entreatChiefly Eurymachus and the godlike youthAntinoüs, whose advice is wisely giv’n.Tamper no longer with the bow, but leave330The matter with the Gods, who shall decideThe strife to-morrow, fav’ring whom they will.Meantime, grantmethe polish’d bow, that IMay trial make among you of my force,If I retain it still in like degreeAs erst, or whether wand’ring and defectOf nourishment have worn it all away.He said, whom they with indignation heardExtreme, alarm’d lest he should bend the bow,And sternly thus Antinoüs replied.340Desperate vagabond! ah wretch deprivedOf reason utterly! art not content?Esteem’st it not distinction proud enoughTo feast with us the nobles of the land?None robs thee of thy share, thou witnessestOur whole discourse, which, save thyself alone,No needy vagrant is allow’d to hear.Thou art befool’d by wine, as many have been,Wide-throated drinkers, unrestrain’d by rule.Wine in the mansion of the mighty Chief350Pirithoüs, made the valiant Centaur madEurytion, at the Lapithæan feast.101He drank to drunkenness, and being drunk,Committed great enormities beneathPirithoüs’ roof, and such as fill’d with rageThe Hero-guests; who therefore by his feetDragg’d him right through the vestibule, amercedOf nose and ears, and he departed thenceProvoked to frenzy by that foul disgrace,Whence war between the human kind arose360And the bold Centaurs—but he first incurredBy his ebriety that mulct severe.Great evil, also, if thou bend the bow,To thee I prophesy; for thou shalt findAdvocate or protector none in allThis people, but we will dispatch thee henceIncontinent on board a sable barkTo Echetus, the scourge of human kind,From whom is no escape. Drink then in peace,And contest shun with younger men than thou.370Him answer’d, then, Penelope discrete.Antinoüs! neither seemly were the deedNor just, to maim or harm whatever guestWhom here arrived Telemachus receives.Canst thou expect, that should he even proveStronger than ye, and bend the massy bow,He will conduct me hence to his own home,And make me his own bride? No such designHis heart conceives, or hope; nor let a dreadSo vain the mind of any overcloud380Who banquets here, since it dishonours me.So she; to whom Eurymachus reply’d,Offspring of Polybus. O matchless Queen!Icarius’ prudent daughter! none suspectsThat thou wilt wed with him; a mate so meanShould ill become thee; but we fear the tonguesOf either sex, lest some Achaian sayHereafter, (one inferior far to us)Ah! how unworthy are they to compareWith him whose wife they seek! to bend his bow390Pass’d all their pow’r, yet this poor vagabond,Arriving from what country none can tell,Bent it with ease, and shot through all the rings.So will they speak, and so shall we be shamed.Then answer, thus, Penelope return’d.No fair report, Eurymachus, attendsTheir names or can, who, riotous as ye,The house dishonour, and consume the wealthOf such a Chief. Why shame ye thusyourselves?The guest is of athletic frame, well form’d,400And large of limb; he boasts him also sprungFrom noble ancestry. Come then—consent—Give him the bow, that we may see the proof;For thus I say, and thus will I perform;Sure as he bends it, and Apollo givesTo him that glory, tunic fair and cloakShall be his meed from me, a javelin keenTo guard him against men and dogs, a swordOf double edge, and sandals for his feet,And I will send him whither most he would.410Her answer’d then prudent Telemachus.Mother—the bow is mine; and, save myself,No Greek hath right to give it, or refuse.None who in rock-bound Ithaca possessDominion, none in the steed-pastured islesOf Elis, if I chose to make the bowHis own for ever, should that choice controul.But thou into the house repairing, plySpindle and loom, thy province, and enjoinDiligence to thy maidens; for the bow420Is man’s concern alone, and shall be mineEspecially, since I am master here.She heard astonish’d, and the prudent speechReposing of her son deep in her heart,Withdrew; then mounting with her female trainTo her superior chamber, there she weptHer lost Ulysses, till Minerva bathedWith balmy dews of sleep her weary lids.And now the noble swine-herd bore the bowToward Ulysses, but with one voice all430The suitors, clamorous, reproved the deed,Of whom a youth, thus, insolent exclaim’d.Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither bear’st the bow,Delirious wretch? the hounds that thou hast train’dShall eat thee at thy solitary homeEre long, let but Apollo prove, at last,Propitious to us, and the Pow’rs of heav’n.So they, whom hearing he replaced the bowWhere erst it stood, terrified at the soundOf such loud menaces; on the other side440Telemachus as loud assail’d his ear.Friend! forward with the bow; or soon repentThat thou obey’dst the many. I will elseWith huge stones drive thee, younger as I am,Back to the field. My strength surpasses thine.I would to heav’n that I in force excell’dAs far, and prowess, every suitor here!So would I soon give rude dismission henceTo some, who live but to imagine harm.He ceased, whose words the suitors laughing heard.450And, for their sake, in part their wrath resign’dAgainst Telemachus; then through the hallEumæus bore, and to Ulysses’ handConsign’d the bow; next, summoning abroadThe ancient nurse, he gave her thus in charge.It is the pleasure of Telemachus,Sage Euryclea! that thou key secureThe doors; and should you hear, perchance, a groanOr other noise made by the Princes shutWithin the hall, let none look, curious, forth,460But each in quietness pursue her work.So he; nor flew his words useless away,But she, incontinent, shut fast the doors.Then, noiseless, sprang Philœtius forth, who closedThe portals also of the palace-court.A ship-rope of Ægyptian reed, it chanced,Lay in the vestibule; with that he bracedThe doors securely, and re-entring fill’dAgain his seat, but watchful, eyed his Lord.He, now, assaying with his hand the bow,470Made curious trial of it ev’ry way,And turn’d it on all sides, lest haply wormsHad in its master’s absence drill’d the horn.Then thus a suitor to his next remark’d.He hath an eye, methinks, exactly skill’dIn bows, and steals them; or perhaps, at home,Hath such himself, or feels a strong desireTo make them; so inquisitive the rogueAdept in mischief, shifts it to and fro!To whom another, insolent, replied.480I wish him like prosperity in allHis efforts, as attends his effort madeOn this same bow, which he shall never bend.So they; but when the wary Hero wiseHad made his hand familiar with the bowPoising it and examining—at once—As when in harp and song adept, a bardUnlab’ring strains the chord to a new lyre,The twisted entrails of a sheep belowWith fingers nice inserting, and above,490With such facility Ulysses bentHis own huge bow, and with his right hand play’dThe nerve, which in its quick vibration sangClear as the swallow’s voice. Keen anguish seizedThe suitors, wan grew ev’ry cheek, and JoveGave him his rolling thunder for a sign.That omen, granted to him by the sonOf wily Saturn, with delight he heard.He took a shaft that at the table-sideLay ready drawn; but in his quiver’s womb500The rest yet slept, by those Achaians proudTo be, ere long, experienced. True he lodg’dThe arrow on the centre of the bow,And, occupying still his seat, drew homeNerve and notch’d arrow-head; with stedfast sightHe aimed and sent it; right through all the ringsFrom first to last the steel-charged weapon flewIssuing beyond, and to his son he spake.Thou need’st not blush, young Prince, to have receivedA guest like me; neither my arrow swerved,510Nor labour’d I long time to draw the bow;My strength is unimpair’d, not such as theseIn scorn affirm it. But the waning dayCalls us to supper, after which succeeds102Jocund variety, the song, the harp,With all that heightens and adorns the feast.He said, and with his brows gave him the sign.At once the son of the illustrious ChiefSlung his keen faulchion, grasp’d his spear, and stoodArm’d bright for battle at his father’s side.52096A province of Laconia.97The reader will of course observe, that the whole of this process implies a sort of mechanism very different from that with which we are acquainted.—The translation, I believe, is exact.98This first attempt of Telemachus and the suitors was not an attempt to shoot, but to lodge the bow-string on the opposite horn, the bow having been released at one end, and slackened while it was laid by.99Antinoüs prescribes to them this manner of rising to the trial for the good omen’s sake, the left-hand being held unpropitious.100Theδεσμὸςseems to have been a strap designed to close the only aperture by which the bolt could be displaced, and the door opened.101When Pirithoüs, one of the Lapithæ, married Hippodamia, daughter of Adrastus, he invited the Centaurs to the wedding. The Centaurs, intoxicated with wine, attempted to ravish the wives of the Lapithæ, who in resentment of that insult, slew them.102This is an instance of theΣαρδανιον μαλα τοιονmentioned in Book XX.; such as, perhaps, could not be easily paralleled. I question if there be a passage, either in ancient or modern tragedy, so truly terrible as this seeming levity of Ulysses, in the moment when he was going to begin the slaughter.

Penelope proposes to the suitors a contest with the bow, herself the prize. They prove unable to bend the bow; when Ulysses having with some difficulty possessed himself of it, manages it with the utmost ease, and dispatches his arrow through twelve rings erected for the trial.

Minerva, now, Goddess cærulean-eyed,Prompted Icarius’ daughter, the discretePenelope, with bow and rings to proveHer suitors in Ulysses’ courts, a gameTerrible in conclusion to them all.First, taking in her hand the brazen keyWell-forged, and fitted with an iv’ry grasp,Attended by the women of her trainShe sought her inmost chamber, the recessIn which she kept the treasures of her Lord,10His brass, his gold, and steel elaborate.Here lay his stubborn bow, and quiver fill’dWith num’rous shafts, a fatal store. That bowHe had received and quiver from the handOf godlike Iphitus Eurytides,Whom, in Messenia,96in the house he metOf brave Orsilochus. Ulysses cameDemanding payment of arrearage dueFrom all that land; for a Messenian fleetHad borne from Ithaca three hundred sheep,20With all their shepherds; for which cause, ere yetAdult, he voyaged to that distant shore,Deputed by his sire, and by the ChiefsOf Ithaca, to make the just demand.But Iphitus had thither come to seekTwelve mares and twelve mule colts which he had lost,A search that cost him soon a bloody death.For, coming to the house of HerculesThe valiant task-performing son of Jove,He perish’d there, slain by his cruel host30Who, heedless of heav’n’s wrath, and of the rightsOf his own board, first fed, then slaughter’d him;For inhishouse the mares and colts were hidden.He, therefore, occupied in that concern,Meeting Ulysses there, gave him the bowWhich, erst, huge Eurytus had borne, and whichHimself had from his dying sire received.Ulysses, in return, on him bestowedA spear and sword, pledges of future loveAnd hospitality; but never more40They met each other at the friendly board,For, ere that hour arrived, the son of JoveSlew his own guest, the godlike Iphitus.Thus came the bow into Ulysses’ hands,Which, never in his gallant barks he boreTo battle with him, (though he used it oftIn times of peace) but left it safely storedAt home, a dear memorial of his friend.Soon as, divinest of her sex, arrivedAt that same chamber, with her foot she press’d50The oaken threshold bright, on which the handOf no mean architect had stretch’d the line,Who had erected also on each sideThe posts on which the splendid portals hung,She loos’d the ring and brace, then introducedThe key, and aiming at them from without,97Struck back the bolts. The portals, at that stroke,Sent forth a tone deep as the pastur’d bull’s,And flew wide open. She, ascending, next,The elevated floor on which the chests60That held her own fragrant apparel stood,With lifted hand aloft took down the bowIn its embroider’d bow-case safe enclosed.Then, sitting there, she lay’d it on her knees,Weeping aloud, and drew it from the case.Thus weeping over it long time she sat,Till satiate, at the last, with grief and tears,Descending by the palace steps she soughtAgain the haughty suitors, with the bowElastic, and the quiver in her hand70Replete with pointed shafts, a deadly store.Her maidens, as she went, bore after herA coffer fill’d with prizes by her Lord,Much brass and steel; and when at length she came,Loveliest of women, where the suitors sat,Between the pillars of the stately domePausing, before her beauteous face she heldHer lucid veil, and by two matrons chasteSupported, the assembly thus address’d.Ye noble suitors hear, who rudely haunt80This palace of a Chief long absent hence,Whose substance ye have now long time consumed,Nor palliative have yet contrived, or could,Save your ambition to make me a bride—Attend this game to which I call you forth.Now suitors! prove yourselves with this huge bowOf wide-renown’d Ulysses; he who drawsEasiest the bow, and who his arrow sendsThrough twice six rings, he takes me to his home,And I must leave this mansion of my youth90Plenteous, magnificent, which, doubtless, oftI shall remember even in my dreams.So saying, she bade Eumæus lay the bowBefore them, and the twice six rings of steel.He wept, received them, and obey’d; nor weptThe herdsman less, seeing the bow which erstHis Lord had occupied; when at their tearsIndignant, thus, Antinoüs began.Ye rural drones, whose purblind eyes see notBeyond the present hour, egregious fools!100Why weeping trouble ye the Queen, too muchBefore afflicted for her husband lost?Either partake the banquet silently,Or else go weep abroad, leaving the bow,That stubborn test, to us; for none, I judge,None here shall bend this polish’d bow with ease,Since in this whole assembly I discernNone like Ulysses, whom myself have seenAnd recollect, though I was then a boy.He said, but in his heart, meantime, the hope110Cherish’d, that he should bend, himself, the bow,And pass the rings; yet was he destin’d firstOf all that company to taste the steelOf brave Ulysses’ shaft, whom in that houseHe had so oft dishonour’d, and had urgedSo oft all others to the like offence.Amidst them, then, the sacred might aroseOf young Telemachus, who thus began.Saturnian Jove questionless hath deprivedMe of all reason. My own mother, fam’d120For wisdom as she is, makes known to allHer purpose to abandon this abodeAnd follow a new mate, while, heedless, ITrifle and laugh as I were still a child.But come, ye suitors! since the prize is such,A woman like to whom none can be foundThis day in all Achaia; on the shoresOf sacred Pylus; in the cities proudOf Argos or Mycenæ; or even hereIn Ithaca; or yet within the walls130Of black Epirus; and since this yourselvesKnow also, wherefore should I speak her praise?Come then, delay not, waste not time in vainExcuses, turn not from the proof, but bendThe bow, that thus the issue may be known.I also will, myself, that task essay;And should I bend the bow, and pass the rings,Then shall not my illustrious mother leaveHer son forlorn, forsaking this abodeTo follow a new spouse, while I remain140Disconsolate, although of age to bear,Successful as my sire, the prize away.So saying, he started from his seat, cast offHis purple cloak, and lay’d his sword aside,Then fix’d, himself, the rings, furrowing the earthBy line, and op’ning one long trench for all,And stamping close the glebe. Amazement seizedAll present, seeing with how prompt a skillHe executed, though untaught, his task.Then, hasting to the portal, there he stood.150Thrice, struggling, he essay’d to bend the bow,And thrice desisted, hoping still to drawThe bow-string home, and shoot through all the rings.98And now the fourth time striving with full forceHe had prevail’d to string it, but his sireForbad his eager efforts by a sign.Then thus the royal youth to all around—Gods! either I shall prove of little forceHereafter, and for manly feats unapt,Or I am yet too young, and have not strength160To quell the aggressor’s contumely. But come—(For ye have strength surpassing mine) try yeThe bow, and bring this contest to an end.He ceas’d, and set the bow down on the floor,Reclining it against the shaven pannels smoothThat lined the wall; the arrow next he placed,Leaning against the bow’s bright-polish’d horn,And to the seat, whence he had ris’n, return’d.Then thus Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs spake.My friends! come forth successive from the right,99170Where he who ministers the cup begins.So spake Antinoüs, and his counsel pleased.Then, first, Leiodes, Œnop’s son, arose.He was their soothsayer, and ever satBeside the beaker, inmost of them all.To him alone, of all, licentious deedsWere odious, and, with indignation fired,He witness’d the excesses of the rest.He then took foremost up the shaft and bow,And, station’d at the portal, strove to bend180But bent it not, fatiguing, first, his handsDelicate and uncustom’d to the toil.He ceased, and the assembly thus bespake.My friends, I speed not; let another try;For many Princes shall this bow of lifeBereave, since death more eligible seems,Far more, than loss of her, for whom we meetContinual here, expecting still the prize.Some suitor, haply, at this moment, hopesThat he shall wed whom long he hath desired,190Ulysses’ wife, Penelope; let himEssay the bow, and, trial made, addressHis spousal offers to some other fairAmong the long-stoled Princesses of Greece,This Princess leaving his, whose proffer’d giftsShall please her most, and whom the Fates ordain.He said, and set the bow down on the floor,Reclining it against the shaven pannels smoothThat lined the wall; the arrow, next, he placed,Leaning against the bow’s bright-polish’d horn,200And to the seat whence he had ris’n return’d.Then him Antinoüs, angry, thus reproved.What word, Leiodes, grating to our earsHath scap’d thy lips? I hear it with disdain.Shall this bow fatal prove to many a Prince,Because thou hast, thyself, too feeble provedTo bend it? no. Thou wast not born to bendThe unpliant bow, or to direct the shaft,But here are nobler who shall soon prevail.He said, and to Melanthius gave command,210The goat-herd. Hence, Melanthius, kindle fire;Beside it place, with fleeces spread, a formOf length commodious; from within procureA large round cake of suet next, with whichWhen we have chafed and suppled the tough bowBefore the fire, we will again essayTo bend it, and decide the doubtful strife.He ended, and Melanthius, kindling fireBeside it placed, with fleeces spread, a formOf length commodious; next, he brought a cake220Ample and round of suet from within,With which they chafed the bow, then tried againTo bend, but bent it not; superior strengthTo theirs that task required. Yet two, the restIn force surpassing, made no trial yet,Antinoüs, and Eurymachus the brave.Then went the herdsman and the swine-herd forthTogether; after whom, the glorious ChiefHimself the house left also, and when allWithout the court had met, with gentle speech230Ulysses, then, the faithful pair address’d.Herdsman! and thou, Eumæus! shall I keepA certain secret close, or shall I speakOutright? my spirit prompts me, and I will.What welcome should Ulysses at your handsReceive, arriving suddenly at home,Some God his guide; would ye the suitors aid,Or would ye aid Ulysses? answer true.Then thus the chief intendant of his herds.Would Jove but grant me my desire, to see240Once more the Hero, and would some kind Pow’r,Restore him, I would shew thee soon an armStrenuous to serve him, and a dauntless heart.Eumæus, also, fervently imploredThe Gods in pray’r, that they would render backUlysses to his home. He, then, convincedOf their unfeigning honesty, began.Behold him! I am he myself, arrivedAfter long suff’rings in the twentieth year!I know how welcome to yourselves alone250Of all my train I come, for I have heardNone others praying for my safe return.I therefore tell you truth; should heav’n subdueThe suitors under me, ye shall receiveEach at my hands a bride, with lands and houseNear to my own, and ye shall be thenceforthDear friends and brothers of the Prince my son.Lo! also this indisputable proofThat ye may know and trust me. View it here.It is the scar which in Parnassus erst260(Where with the sons I hunted of renown’dAutolycus) I from a boar received.So saying, he stripp’d his tatters, and unveil’dThe whole broad scar; then, soon as they had seenAnd surely recognized the mark, each castHis arms around Ulysses, wept, embracedAnd press’d him to his bosom, kissing oftHis brows and shoulders, who as oft their handsAnd foreheads kiss’d, nor had the setting sunBeheld them satisfied, but that himself270Ulysses thus admonished them, and said.Cease now from tears, lest any, coming forth,Mark and report them to our foes within.Now, to the hall again, but one by one,Not all at once, I foremost, then yourselves,And this shall be the sign. Full well I knowThat, all unanimous, they will opposeDeliv’ry of the bow and shafts to me;But thou, (proceeding with it to my seat)Eumæus, noble friend! shalt give the bow280Into my grasp; then bid the women closeThe massy doors, and should they hear a groanOr other noise made by the Princes shutWithin the hall, let none set step abroad,But all work silent. Be the palace-doorThy charge, my good Philœtius! key it fastWithout a moment’s pause, and fix the brace.100He ended, and, returning to the hall,Resumed his seat; nor stay’d his servants longWithout, but follow’d their illustrious Lord.290Eurymachus was busily employ’dTurning the bow, and chafing it beforeThe sprightly blaze, but, after all, could findNo pow’r to bend it. Disappointment wrungA groan from his proud heart, and thus he said.Alas! not only for myself I grieve,But grieve for all. Nor, though I mourn the lossOf such a bride, mourn I that loss alone,(For lovely Greecians may be found no fewIn Ithaca, and in the neighbour isles)300But should we so inferior prove at lastTo brave Ulysses, that no force of oursCan bend his bow, we are for ever shamed.To whom Antinoüs, thus, Eupithes’ son.Not so; (as even thou art well-assuredThyself, Eurymachus!) but Phœbus claimsThis day his own. Who then, on such a day,Would strive to bend it? Let it rather rest.And should we leave the rings where now they stand,I trust that none ent’ring Ulysses’ house310Will dare displace them. Cup-bearer, attend!Serve all with wine, that, first, libation made,We may religiously lay down the bow.Command ye too Melanthius, that he driveHither the fairest goats of all his flocksAt dawn of day, that burning first, the thighsTo the ethereal archer, we may makeNew trial, and decide, at length, the strife.So spake Antinoüs, and his counsel pleased.The heralds, then, pour’d water on their hands,320While youths crown’d high the goblets which they boreFrom right to left, distributing to all.When each had made libation, and had drunkTill well sufficed, then, artful to effectHis shrewd designs, Ulysses thus began.Hear, O ye suitors of the illustrious Queen,My bosom’s dictates. But I shall entreatChiefly Eurymachus and the godlike youthAntinoüs, whose advice is wisely giv’n.Tamper no longer with the bow, but leave330The matter with the Gods, who shall decideThe strife to-morrow, fav’ring whom they will.Meantime, grantmethe polish’d bow, that IMay trial make among you of my force,If I retain it still in like degreeAs erst, or whether wand’ring and defectOf nourishment have worn it all away.He said, whom they with indignation heardExtreme, alarm’d lest he should bend the bow,And sternly thus Antinoüs replied.340Desperate vagabond! ah wretch deprivedOf reason utterly! art not content?Esteem’st it not distinction proud enoughTo feast with us the nobles of the land?None robs thee of thy share, thou witnessestOur whole discourse, which, save thyself alone,No needy vagrant is allow’d to hear.Thou art befool’d by wine, as many have been,Wide-throated drinkers, unrestrain’d by rule.Wine in the mansion of the mighty Chief350Pirithoüs, made the valiant Centaur madEurytion, at the Lapithæan feast.101He drank to drunkenness, and being drunk,Committed great enormities beneathPirithoüs’ roof, and such as fill’d with rageThe Hero-guests; who therefore by his feetDragg’d him right through the vestibule, amercedOf nose and ears, and he departed thenceProvoked to frenzy by that foul disgrace,Whence war between the human kind arose360And the bold Centaurs—but he first incurredBy his ebriety that mulct severe.Great evil, also, if thou bend the bow,To thee I prophesy; for thou shalt findAdvocate or protector none in allThis people, but we will dispatch thee henceIncontinent on board a sable barkTo Echetus, the scourge of human kind,From whom is no escape. Drink then in peace,And contest shun with younger men than thou.370Him answer’d, then, Penelope discrete.Antinoüs! neither seemly were the deedNor just, to maim or harm whatever guestWhom here arrived Telemachus receives.Canst thou expect, that should he even proveStronger than ye, and bend the massy bow,He will conduct me hence to his own home,And make me his own bride? No such designHis heart conceives, or hope; nor let a dreadSo vain the mind of any overcloud380Who banquets here, since it dishonours me.So she; to whom Eurymachus reply’d,Offspring of Polybus. O matchless Queen!Icarius’ prudent daughter! none suspectsThat thou wilt wed with him; a mate so meanShould ill become thee; but we fear the tonguesOf either sex, lest some Achaian sayHereafter, (one inferior far to us)Ah! how unworthy are they to compareWith him whose wife they seek! to bend his bow390Pass’d all their pow’r, yet this poor vagabond,Arriving from what country none can tell,Bent it with ease, and shot through all the rings.So will they speak, and so shall we be shamed.Then answer, thus, Penelope return’d.No fair report, Eurymachus, attendsTheir names or can, who, riotous as ye,The house dishonour, and consume the wealthOf such a Chief. Why shame ye thusyourselves?The guest is of athletic frame, well form’d,400And large of limb; he boasts him also sprungFrom noble ancestry. Come then—consent—Give him the bow, that we may see the proof;For thus I say, and thus will I perform;Sure as he bends it, and Apollo givesTo him that glory, tunic fair and cloakShall be his meed from me, a javelin keenTo guard him against men and dogs, a swordOf double edge, and sandals for his feet,And I will send him whither most he would.410Her answer’d then prudent Telemachus.Mother—the bow is mine; and, save myself,No Greek hath right to give it, or refuse.None who in rock-bound Ithaca possessDominion, none in the steed-pastured islesOf Elis, if I chose to make the bowHis own for ever, should that choice controul.But thou into the house repairing, plySpindle and loom, thy province, and enjoinDiligence to thy maidens; for the bow420Is man’s concern alone, and shall be mineEspecially, since I am master here.She heard astonish’d, and the prudent speechReposing of her son deep in her heart,Withdrew; then mounting with her female trainTo her superior chamber, there she weptHer lost Ulysses, till Minerva bathedWith balmy dews of sleep her weary lids.And now the noble swine-herd bore the bowToward Ulysses, but with one voice all430The suitors, clamorous, reproved the deed,Of whom a youth, thus, insolent exclaim’d.Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither bear’st the bow,Delirious wretch? the hounds that thou hast train’dShall eat thee at thy solitary homeEre long, let but Apollo prove, at last,Propitious to us, and the Pow’rs of heav’n.So they, whom hearing he replaced the bowWhere erst it stood, terrified at the soundOf such loud menaces; on the other side440Telemachus as loud assail’d his ear.Friend! forward with the bow; or soon repentThat thou obey’dst the many. I will elseWith huge stones drive thee, younger as I am,Back to the field. My strength surpasses thine.I would to heav’n that I in force excell’dAs far, and prowess, every suitor here!So would I soon give rude dismission henceTo some, who live but to imagine harm.He ceased, whose words the suitors laughing heard.450And, for their sake, in part their wrath resign’dAgainst Telemachus; then through the hallEumæus bore, and to Ulysses’ handConsign’d the bow; next, summoning abroadThe ancient nurse, he gave her thus in charge.It is the pleasure of Telemachus,Sage Euryclea! that thou key secureThe doors; and should you hear, perchance, a groanOr other noise made by the Princes shutWithin the hall, let none look, curious, forth,460But each in quietness pursue her work.So he; nor flew his words useless away,But she, incontinent, shut fast the doors.Then, noiseless, sprang Philœtius forth, who closedThe portals also of the palace-court.A ship-rope of Ægyptian reed, it chanced,Lay in the vestibule; with that he bracedThe doors securely, and re-entring fill’dAgain his seat, but watchful, eyed his Lord.He, now, assaying with his hand the bow,470Made curious trial of it ev’ry way,And turn’d it on all sides, lest haply wormsHad in its master’s absence drill’d the horn.Then thus a suitor to his next remark’d.He hath an eye, methinks, exactly skill’dIn bows, and steals them; or perhaps, at home,Hath such himself, or feels a strong desireTo make them; so inquisitive the rogueAdept in mischief, shifts it to and fro!To whom another, insolent, replied.480I wish him like prosperity in allHis efforts, as attends his effort madeOn this same bow, which he shall never bend.So they; but when the wary Hero wiseHad made his hand familiar with the bowPoising it and examining—at once—As when in harp and song adept, a bardUnlab’ring strains the chord to a new lyre,The twisted entrails of a sheep belowWith fingers nice inserting, and above,490With such facility Ulysses bentHis own huge bow, and with his right hand play’dThe nerve, which in its quick vibration sangClear as the swallow’s voice. Keen anguish seizedThe suitors, wan grew ev’ry cheek, and JoveGave him his rolling thunder for a sign.That omen, granted to him by the sonOf wily Saturn, with delight he heard.He took a shaft that at the table-sideLay ready drawn; but in his quiver’s womb500The rest yet slept, by those Achaians proudTo be, ere long, experienced. True he lodg’dThe arrow on the centre of the bow,And, occupying still his seat, drew homeNerve and notch’d arrow-head; with stedfast sightHe aimed and sent it; right through all the ringsFrom first to last the steel-charged weapon flewIssuing beyond, and to his son he spake.Thou need’st not blush, young Prince, to have receivedA guest like me; neither my arrow swerved,510Nor labour’d I long time to draw the bow;My strength is unimpair’d, not such as theseIn scorn affirm it. But the waning dayCalls us to supper, after which succeeds102Jocund variety, the song, the harp,With all that heightens and adorns the feast.He said, and with his brows gave him the sign.At once the son of the illustrious ChiefSlung his keen faulchion, grasp’d his spear, and stoodArm’d bright for battle at his father’s side.520

96A province of Laconia.97The reader will of course observe, that the whole of this process implies a sort of mechanism very different from that with which we are acquainted.—The translation, I believe, is exact.98This first attempt of Telemachus and the suitors was not an attempt to shoot, but to lodge the bow-string on the opposite horn, the bow having been released at one end, and slackened while it was laid by.99Antinoüs prescribes to them this manner of rising to the trial for the good omen’s sake, the left-hand being held unpropitious.100Theδεσμὸςseems to have been a strap designed to close the only aperture by which the bolt could be displaced, and the door opened.101When Pirithoüs, one of the Lapithæ, married Hippodamia, daughter of Adrastus, he invited the Centaurs to the wedding. The Centaurs, intoxicated with wine, attempted to ravish the wives of the Lapithæ, who in resentment of that insult, slew them.102This is an instance of theΣαρδανιον μαλα τοιονmentioned in Book XX.; such as, perhaps, could not be easily paralleled. I question if there be a passage, either in ancient or modern tragedy, so truly terrible as this seeming levity of Ulysses, in the moment when he was going to begin the slaughter.

96A province of Laconia.

97The reader will of course observe, that the whole of this process implies a sort of mechanism very different from that with which we are acquainted.—The translation, I believe, is exact.

98This first attempt of Telemachus and the suitors was not an attempt to shoot, but to lodge the bow-string on the opposite horn, the bow having been released at one end, and slackened while it was laid by.

99Antinoüs prescribes to them this manner of rising to the trial for the good omen’s sake, the left-hand being held unpropitious.

100Theδεσμὸςseems to have been a strap designed to close the only aperture by which the bolt could be displaced, and the door opened.

101When Pirithoüs, one of the Lapithæ, married Hippodamia, daughter of Adrastus, he invited the Centaurs to the wedding. The Centaurs, intoxicated with wine, attempted to ravish the wives of the Lapithæ, who in resentment of that insult, slew them.

102This is an instance of theΣαρδανιον μαλα τοιονmentioned in Book XX.; such as, perhaps, could not be easily paralleled. I question if there be a passage, either in ancient or modern tragedy, so truly terrible as this seeming levity of Ulysses, in the moment when he was going to begin the slaughter.

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