BOOK XXIIARGUMENTUlysses, with some little assistance from Telemachus, Eumæus and PhilÅ“tius, slays all the suitors, and twelve of the female servants who had allowed themselves an illicit intercourse with them, are hanged. Melanthius also is punished with miserable mutilation.Then, girding up his rags, Ulysses sprangWith bow and full-charged quiver to the door;Loose on the broad stone at his feet he pour’dHis arrows, and the suitors, thus, bespake.This prize, though difficult, hath been atchieved.Now for another mark which never manStruck yet, but I will strike it if I may,And if Apollo make that glory mine.He said, and at Antinoüs aimed directA bitter shaft; he, purposing to drink,10Both hands advanced toward the golden cupTwin-ear’d, nor aught suspected death so nigh.For who, at the full banquet, could suspectThat any single guest, however brave,Should plan his death, and execute the blow?Yet him Ulysses with an arrow piercedFull in the throat, and through his neck behindStarted the glitt’ring point. Aslant he droop’d;Down fell the goblet, through his nostrils flewThe spouted blood, and spurning with his foot20The board, he spread his viands in the dust.Confusion, when they saw Antinoüs fall’n,Seized all the suitors; from the thrones they sprang,Flew ev’ry way, and on all sides exploredThe palace-walls, but neither sturdy lanceAs erst, nor buckler could they there discern,Then, furious, to Ulysses thus they spake.Thy arrow, stranger, was ill-aimed; a manIs no just mark. Thou never shalt disputePrize more. Inevitable death is thine.30For thou hast slain a Prince noblest of allIn Ithaca, and shalt be vultures’ food.Various their judgments were, but none believedThat he had slain him wittingly, nor sawTh’ infatuate men fate hov’ring o’er them all.Then thus Ulysses, louring dark, replied.O dogs! not fearing aught my safe returnFrom Ilium, ye have shorn my substance close,Lain with my women forcibly, and sought,While yet I lived, to make my consort yours,40Heedless of the inhabitants of heav’nAlike, and of the just revenge of man.But death is on the wing; death for you all.He said; their cheeks all faded at the sound,And each with sharpen’d eyes search’d ev’ry nookFor an escape from his impending doom,Till thus, alone, Eurymachus replied.If thou indeed art he, the mighty ChiefOf Ithaca return’d, thou hast rehears’dWith truth the crimes committed by the Greeks50Frequent, both in thy house and in thy field.But he, already, who was cause of all,Lies slain, Antinoüs; he thy palace fill’dWith outrage, not solicitous so muchTo win the fair Penelope, but thoughtsFar diff’rent framing, which Saturnian JoveHath baffled all; to rule, himself, supremeIn noble Ithaca, when he had kill’dBy an insidious stratagem thy son.But he is slain. Now therefore, spare thy own,60Thy people; public reparation dueShall sure be thine, and to appease thy wrathFor all the waste that, eating, drinking hereWe have committed, we will yield thee, each,Full twenty beeves, gold paying thee besideAnd brass, till joy shall fill thee at the sight,However just thine anger was before.To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied,Eurymachus, would ye contribute eachHis whole inheritance, and other sums70Still add beside, ye should not, even so,These hands of mine bribe to abstain from blood,Till ev’ry suitor suffer for his wrong.Ye have your choice. Fight with me, or escape(Whoever may) the terrours of his fate,But ye all perish, if my thought be true.He ended, they with trembling knees and heartsAll heard, whom thus Eurymachus address’d.To your defence, my friends! for respite noneWill he to his victorious hands afford,80But, arm’d with bow and quiver, will dispatchShafts from the door till he have slain us all.Therefore to arms—draw each his sword—opposeThe tables to his shafts, and all at onceRush on him; that, dislodging him at leastFrom portal and from threshold, we may giveThe city on all sides a loud alarm,So shall this archer soon have shot his last.Thus saying, he drew his brazen faulchion keenOf double edge, and with a dreadful cry90Sprang on him; but Ulysses with a shaftIn that same moment through his bosom driv’nTransfix’d his liver, and down dropp’d his sword.He, staggering around his table, fellConvolv’d in agonies, and overturn’dBoth food and wine; his forehead smote the floor;Woe fill’d his heart, and spurning with his heelsHis vacant seat, he shook it till he died.Then, with his faulchion drawn, AmphinomusAdvanced to drive Ulysses from the door,100And fierce was his assault; but, from behind,Telemachus between his shoulders fix’dA brazen lance, and urged it through his breast.Full on his front, with hideous sound, he fell.Leaving the weapon planted in his spineBack flew Telemachus, lest, had he stoodDrawing it forth, some enemy, perchance,Should either pierce him with a sudden thrustOblique, or hew him with a downright edge.Swift, therefore, to his father’s side he ran,110Whom reaching, in wing’d accents thus he said.My father! I will now bring thee a shield,An helmet, and two spears; I will encloseMyself in armour also, and will giveBoth to the herdsmen and Eumæus armsExpedient now, and needful for us all.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.Run; fetch them, while I yet have arrows left,Lest, single, I be justled from the door.He said, and, at his word, forth went the Prince,120Seeking the chamber where he had securedThe armour. Thence he took four shields, eight spears,With four hair-crested helmets, charged with whichHe hasted to his father’s side again,And, arming first himself, furnish’d with armsHis two attendants. Then, all clad alikeIn splendid brass, beside the dauntless ChiefUlysses, his auxiliars firm they stood.He, while a single arrow unemploy’dLay at his foot, right-aiming, ever pierced130Some suitor through, and heaps on heaps they fell.But when his arrows fail’d the royal Chief,His bow reclining at the portal’s sideAgainst the palace-wall, he slung, himself,A four-fold buckler on his arm, he fix’dA casque whose crest wav’d awful o’er his browsOn his illustrious head, and fill’d his gripeWith two stout spears, well-headed both, with brass.There was a certain postern in the wall103At the gate-side, the customary pass140Into a narrow street, but barr’d secure.Ulysses bade his faithful swine-herd watchThat egress, station’d near it, for it own’dOne sole approach; then Agelaüs loudExhorting all the suitors, thus exclaim’d.Oh friends, will none, ascending to the doorOf yonder postern, summon to our aidThe populace, and spread a wide alarm?So shall this archer soon have shot his last.To whom the keeper of the goats replied150Melanthius. Agelaüs! Prince renown’d!That may not be. The postern and the gate104Neighbour too near each other, and to forceThe narrow egress were a vain attempt;One valiant man might thence repulse us all.But come—myself will furnish you with armsFetch’d from above; for there, as I suppose,(And not elsewhere) Ulysses and his sonHave hidden them, and there they shall be found.So spake Melanthius, and, ascending, sought160Ulysses’ chambers through the winding stairsAnd gall’ries of the house. Twelve bucklers thenceHe took, as many spears, and helmets brightAs many, shagg’d with hair, then swift return’dAnd gave them to his friends. Trembled the heartOf brave Ulysses, and his knees, at sightOf his opposers putting armour on,And shaking each his spear; arduous indeedNow seem’d his task, and in wing’d accents briefThus to his son Telemachus he spake.170Either some woman of our train contrivesHard battle for us, furnishing with armsThe suitors, or Melanthius arms them all.Him answer’d then Telemachus discrete.Father, this fault was mine, and be it chargedOn none beside; I left the chamber-doorUnbarr’d, which, more attentive than myself,Their spy perceived. But haste, Eumæus, shutThe chamber-door, observing well, the while,If any women of our train have done180This deed, or whether, as I more suspect,Melanthius, Dolius’ son, have giv’n them arms.Thus mutual they conferr’d; meantime, againMelanthius to the chamber flew in questOf other arms. Eumæus, as he went,Mark’d him, and to Ulysses’ thus he spake.Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!Behold, the traytor, whom ourselves supposed,Seeks yet again the chamber! Tell me plain,Shall I, should I superior prove in force,190Slay him, or shall I drag him thence to thee,That he may suffer at thy hands the doomDue to his treasons perpetrated oftAgainst thee, here, even in thy own house?Then answer thus Ulysses shrewd return’d.I, with Telemachus, will here immewThe lordly suitors close, rage as they may.Ye two, the while, bind fast Melanthius’ handsAnd feet behind his back, then cast him boundInto the chamber, and (the door secured)200Pass underneath his arms a double chain,And by a pillar’s top weigh him aloftTill he approach the rafters, there to endure,Living long time, the mis’ries he hath earned.He spake; they prompt obey’d; together bothThey sought the chamber, whom the wretch withinHeard not, exploring ev’ry nook for arms.They watching stood the door, from which, at length,Forth came Melanthius, bearing in one handA casque, and in the other a broad shield210Time-worn and chapp’d with drought, which in his youthWarlike Laertes had been wont to bear.Long time neglected it had lain, till ageHad loosed the sutures of its bands. At onceBoth, springing on him, seized and drew him inForcibly by his locks, then cast him downProne on the pavement, trembling at his fate.With painful stricture of the cord his handsThey bound and feet together at his back,As their illustrious master had enjoined,220Then weigh’d him with a double chain aloftBy a tall pillar to the palace-roof,And thus, deriding him, Eumæus spake.Now, good Melanthius, on that fleecy bedReclined, as well befits thee, thou wilt watchAll night, nor when the golden dawn forsakesThe ocean stream, will she escape thine eye,But thou wilt duly to the palace driveThe fattest goats, a banquet for thy friends.So saying, he left him in his dreadful sling.230Then, arming both, and barring fast the door,They sought brave Laertiades again.And now, courageous at the portal stoodThose four, by numbers in the interior houseOpposed of adversaries fierce in arms,When Pallas, in the form and with the voiceApproach’d of Mentor, whom Laertes’ sonBeheld, and joyful at the sight, exclaim’d.Help, Mentor! help—now recollect a friendAnd benefactor, born when thou wast born.240So he, not unsuspicious that he sawPallas, the heroine of heav’n. MeantimeThe suitors fill’d with menaces the dome,And Agelaüs, first, Damastor’s son,In accents harsh rebuked the Goddess thus.Beware, oh Mentor! that he lure thee notTo oppose the suitors and to aid himself,For thus will we. Ulysses and his sonBoth slain, in vengeance of thy purpos’d deedsAgainst us, we will slaytheenext, and thou250With thy own head shalt satisfy the wrong.Your force thus quell’d in battle, all thy wealthWhether in house or field, mingled with his,We will confiscate, neither will we leaveOr son of thine, or daughter in thy houseAlive, nor shall thy virtuous consort moreWithin the walls of Ithaca be seen.He ended, and his words with wrath inflamedMinerva’s heart the more; incensed, she turn’dTowards Ulysses, whom she thus reproved.260Thou neither own’st the courage nor the force,Ulysses, now, which nine whole years thou showd’stAt Ilium, waging battle obstinateFor high-born Helen, and in horrid fightDestroying multitudes, till thy adviceAt last lay’d Priam’s bulwark’d city low.Why, in possession of thy proper homeAnd substance, mourn’st thou want of pow’r t’opposeThe suitors? Stand beside me, mark my deeds,And thou shalt own Mentor Alcimides270A valiant friend, and mindful of thy love.She spake; nor made she victory as yetEntire his own, proving the valour, first,Both of the sire and of his glorious son,But, springing in a swallow’s form aloft,Perch’d on a rafter of the splendid roof.Then, Agelaüs animated loudThe suitors, whom Eurynomus also roused,Amphimedon, and Demoptolemus,And Polyctorides, Pisander named,280And Polybus the brave; for noblest farOf all the suitor-chiefs who now survivedAnd fought for life were these. The bow had quell’dAnd shafts, in quick succession sent, the rest.Then Agelaüs, thus, harangued them all.We soon shall tame, O friends, this warrior’s might,Whom Mentor, after all his airy vauntsHath left, and at the portal now remainThemselves alone. Dismiss not therefore, all,Your spears together, but with six alone290Assail them first; Jove willing, we shall pierceUlysses, and subduing him, shall slayWith ease the rest; their force is safely scorn’d.He ceas’d; and, as he bade, six hurl’d the spearTogether; but Minerva gave them allA devious flight; one struck a column, oneThe planks of the broad portal, and a third105Flung right his ashen beam pond’rous with brassAgainst the wall. Then (ev’ry suitor’s spearEluded) thus Ulysses gave the word—300Now friends! I counsel you that ye dismissYour spears atthem, who, not content with pastEnormities, thirst also for our blood.He said, and with unerring aim, all threwTheir glitt’ring spears. Ulysses on the groundStretch’d Demoptolemus; EuryadesFell by Telemachus; the swine-herd slewEl[)a]tus; and the keeper of the beevesPisander; in one moment all alikeLay grinding with their teeth the dusty floor.310Back flew the suitors to the farthest wall,On whom those valiant four advancing, eachRecover’d, quick, his weapon from the dead.Then hurl’d the desp’rate suitors yet againTheir glitt’ring spears, but Pallas gave to eachA frustrate course; one struck a column, oneThe planks of the broad portal, and a thirdFlung full his ashen beam against the wall.Yet pierced Amphimedon the Prince’s wrist,But slightly, a skin-wound, and o’er his shield320Ctesippus reach’d the shoulder of the goodEumæus, but his glancing weapon swiftO’erflew the mark, and fell. And now the four,Ulysses, dauntless Hero, and his friendsAll hurl’d their spears together in return,Himself Ulysses, city-waster Chief,Wounded Eurydamas; Ulysses’ sonAmphimedon; the swine-herd Polybus;And in his breast the keeper of the beevesCtesippus, glorying over whom, he cried.330Oh son of Polytherses! whose delightHath been to taunt and jeer, never againBoast foolishly, but to the Gods commitThy tongue, since they are mightier far than thou.Take this—a compensation for thy pledgeOf hospitality, the huge ox-hoof,Which while he roam’d the palace, begging alms,Ulysses at thy bounteous hand received.So gloried he; then, grasping still his spear,Ulysses pierced Damastor’s son, and, next,340Telemachus, enforcing his long beamSheer through his bowels and his back, transpiercedLeiocritus, he prostrate smote the floor.Then, Pallas from the lofty roof held forthHer host-confounding Ægis o’er their heads,With’ring their souls with fear. They through the hallFled, scatter’d as an herd, which rapid-wing’dThe gad-fly dissipates, infester fellOf beeves, when vernal suns shine hot and long.But, as when bow-beak’d vultures crooked-claw’d106350Stoop from the mountains on the smaller fowl;Terrified at the toils that spread the plainThe flocks take wing, they, darting from above,Strike, seize, and slay, resistance or escapeIs none, the fowler’s heart leaps with delight,So they, pursuing through the spacious hallThe suitors, smote them on all sides, their headsSounded beneath the sword, with hideous groansThe palace rang, and the floor foamed with blood.Then flew Leiodes to Ulysses’ knees,360Which clasping, in wing’d accents thus he cried.I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respectMy suit, and spare me! Never have I wordInjurious spoken, or injurious deedAttempted ’gainst the women of thy house,But others, so transgressing, oft forbad.Yet they abstain’d not, and a dreadful fateDue to their wickedness have, therefore, found.But I, their soothsayer alone, must fall,Though unoffending; such is the return370By mortals made for benefits received!To whom Ulysses, louring dark, replied.Is that thy boast? Hast thou indeed for theseThe seer’s high office fill’d? Then, doubtless, oftThy pray’r hath been that distant far might proveThe day delectable of my return,And that my consort might thy own becomeTo bear thee children; wherefore thee I doomTo a dire death which thou shalt not avoid.So saying, he caught the faulchion from the floor380Which Agelaüs had let fall, and smoteLeiodes, while he kneel’d, athwart his neckSo suddenly, that ere his tongue had ceasedTo plead for life, his head was in the dust.But Phemius, son of Terpius, bard divine,Who, through compulsion, with his song regaledThe suitors, a like dreadful death escaped.Fast by the postern, harp in hand, he stood,Doubtful if, issuing, he should take his seatBeside the altar of Hercæan Jove,107390Where oft Ulysses offer’d, and his sire,Fat thighs of beeves, or whether he should haste,An earnest suppliant, to embrace his knees.That course, at length, most pleased him; then, betweenThe beaker and an argent-studded throneHe grounded his sweet lyre, and seizing fastThe Hero’s knees, him, suppliant, thus address’d.I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respectMy suit, and spare me. Thou shalt not escapeRegret thyself hereafter, if thou slay400Me, charmer of the woes of Gods and men.Self-taught am I, and treasure in my mindThemes of all argument from heav’n inspired,And I can sing to thee as to a God.Ah, then, behead me not. Put ev’n the wishFar from thee! for thy own beloved sonCan witness, that not drawn by choice, or driv’nBy stress of want, resorting to thine houseI have regaled these revellers so oft,But under force of mightier far than I.410So he; whose words soon as the sacred mightHeard of Telemachus, approaching quickHis father, thus, humane, he interposed.Hold, harm not with the vengeful faulchion’s edgeThis blameless man; and we will also spareMedon the herald, who hath ever beenA watchful guardian of my boyish years,Unless PhilÅ“tius have already slain him,Or else Eumæus, or thyself, perchance,Unconscious, in the tumult of our foes.420He spake, whom Medon hearing (for he layBeneath a throne, and in a new-stript hideEnfolded, trembling with the dread of death)Sprang from his hiding-place, and casting offThe skin, flew to Telemachus, embracedHis knees, and in wing’d accents thus exclaim’d.Prince! I am here—oh, pity me! repressThine own, and pacify thy father’s wrath,That he destroy not me, through fierce revengeOf their iniquities who have consumed430His wealth, and, in their folly scorn’d his son.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied,Smiling complacent. Fear not; my own sonHath pleaded for thee. Therefore (taught thyselfThat truth) teach others the superior worthOf benefits with injuries compared.But go ye forth, thou and the sacred bard,That ye may sit distant in yonder courtFrom all this carnage, while I give command,Myself, concerning it, to those within.440He ceas’d; they going forth, took each his seatBeside Jove’s altar, but with careful looksSuspicious, dreading without cease the sword.Meantime Ulysses search’d his hall, in questOf living foes, if any still survivedUnpunish’d; but he found them all alikeWelt’ring in dust and blood; num’rous they layLike fishes when they strew the sinuous shoreOf Ocean, from the grey gulph drawn agroundIn nets of many a mesh; they on the sands450Lie spread, athirst for the salt wave, till hotThe gazing sun dries all their life away;So lay the suitors heap’d, and thus at lengthThe prudent Chief gave order to his son.Telemachus! bid Euryclea comeQuickly, the nurse, to whom I would impartThe purpose which now occupies me most.He said; obedient to his sire, the PrinceSmote on the door, and summon’d loud the nurse.Arise thou ancient governess of all460Our female menials, and come forth; attendMy father; he hath somewhat for thine ear.So he; nor flew his words useless away,For, throwing wide the portal, forth she came,And, by Telemachus conducted, foundEre long Ulysses amid all the slain,With blood defiled and dust; dread he appear’dAs from the pastur’d ox newly-devouredThe lion stalking back; his ample chestWith gory drops and his broad cheeks are hung,470Tremendous spectacle! such seem’d the Chief,Blood-stain’d all over. She, the carnage spreadOn all sides seeing, and the pools of blood,Felt impulse forcible to publish loudThat wond’rous triumph; but her Lord repress’dThe shout of rapture ere it burst abroad,And in wing’d accents thus his will enforced.Silent exult, O ancient matron dear!Shout not, be still. Unholy is the voiceOf loud thanksgiving over slaughter’d men.480Their own atrocious deeds and the Gods’ willHave slain all these; for whether noble guestArrived or base, they scoff’d at all alike,And for their wickedness have, therefore, died.But say; of my domestic women, whoHave scorn’d me, and whom find’st thou innocent?To whom good Euryclea thus replied.My son! I will declare the truth; thou keep’stFemale domestics fifty in thy house,Whom we have made intelligent to comb490The fleece, and to perform whatever task.Of these, twice six have overpass’d the boundsOf modesty, respecting neither me,Nor yet the Queen; and thy own son, adultSo lately, no permission had from herTo regulate the women of her train.But I am gone, I fly with what hath pass’dTo the Queen’s ear, who nought suspects, so soundShe sleeps, by some divinity composed.Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise returned.500Hush, and disturb her not. Go. Summon firstThose wantons, who have long deserved to die.He ceas’d; then issued forth the ancient dameTo summon those bad women, and, meantime,Calling his son, PhilÅ“tius, and Eumæus,Ulysses in wing’d accents thus began.Bestir ye, and remove the dead; commandThose women also to your help; then cleanseWith bibulous sponges and with water allThe seats and tables; when ye shall have thus510Set all in order, lead those women forth,And in the centre of the spacious court,Between the scull’ry and the outer-wallSmite them with your broad faulchions till they loseIn death the mem’ry of their secret lovesIndulged with wretches lawless as themselves.He ended, and the damsels came at onceAll forth, lamenting, and with tepid tearsShow’ring the ground; with mutual labour, first,Bearing the bodies forth into the court,520They lodged them in the portico; meantimeUlysses, stern, enjoin’d them haste, and, urgedBy sad necessity, they bore all out.With sponges and with water, next, they cleansedThe thrones and tables, while TelemachusBeesom’d the floor, Eumæus in that workAiding him and the keeper of the beeves,And those twelve damsels bearing forth the soil.Thus, order giv’n to all within, they, next,Led forth the women, whom they shut between530The scull’ry and the outer-wall in closeDurance, from which no pris’ner could escape,And thus Telemachus discrete began.An honourable death is not for theseBy my advice, who have so often heap’dReproach on mine and on my mother’s head,And held lewd commerce with the suitor-train.He said, and noosing a strong galley-ropeTo an huge column, led the cord aroundThe spacious dome, suspended so aloft540That none with quiv’ring feet might reach the floor.As when a flight of doves ent’ring the copse,Or broad-wing’d thrushes, strike against the netWithin, ill rest, entangled, there they find,So they, suspended by the neck, expiredAll in one line together. Death abhorr’d!With restless feet awhile they beat the air,Then ceas’d. And now through vestibule and hallThey led Melanthius forth. With ruthless steelThey pared away his ears and nose, pluck’d forth550His parts of shame, destin’d to feed the dogs,And, still indignant, lopp’d his hands and feet.Then, laving each his feet and hands, they soughtAgain Ulysses; all their work was done,And thus the Chief to Euryclea spake.Bring blast-averting sulphur, nurse, bring fire!That I may fumigate my walls; then bidPenelope with her attendants down,And summon all the women of her train.But Euryclea, thus, his nurse, replied.560My son! thou hast well said; yet will I firstServe thee with vest and mantle. Stand not hereIn thy own palace cloath’d with tatters foulAnd beggarly—she will abhor the sight.Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.Not so. Bring fire for fumigation first.He said; nor Euryclea his lov’d nurseLonger delay’d, but sulphur brought and fire,When he with purifying steams, himself,Visited ev’ry part, the banquet-room,570The vestibule, the court. Ranging meantimeHis house magnificent, the matron call’dThe women to attend their Lord in haste,And they attended, bearing each a torch.Then gather’d they around him all, sincereWelcoming his return; with close embraceEnfolding him, each kiss’d his brows, and eachHis shoulders, and his hands lock’d fast in hers.He, irresistible the impulse feltTo sigh and weep, well recognizing all.580103If the ancients found it difficult to ascertain clearly the situation of thisοÏτοθυÏη, well may we. The Translator has given it the position which to him appeared most probable.—There seem to have been two of these posterns, one leading to a part from which the town might be alarmed, the other to the chamber to which Telemachus went for armour. There was one, perhaps, on each side of the portal, and they appear to have been at some height above the floor.104At which Ulysses stood.105The deviation of three only is described, which must be understood, therefore, as instances of the ill success of all.106In this simile we seem to have a curious account of the ancient manner of fowling. The nets (forνεφεαis used in that sense by Aristophanes) were spread on a plain; on an adjoining rising ground were stationed they who had charge of the vultures (such Homer calls them) which were trained to the sport. The alarm being given to the birds below, the vultures were loosed, when if any of them escaped their talons, the nets were ready to enclose them.SeeEustathius Dacier. Clarke.107So called because he was worshipped within theἘÏκοςor wall that surrounded the court.
Ulysses, with some little assistance from Telemachus, Eumæus and Philœtius, slays all the suitors, and twelve of the female servants who had allowed themselves an illicit intercourse with them, are hanged. Melanthius also is punished with miserable mutilation.
Then, girding up his rags, Ulysses sprangWith bow and full-charged quiver to the door;Loose on the broad stone at his feet he pour’dHis arrows, and the suitors, thus, bespake.This prize, though difficult, hath been atchieved.Now for another mark which never manStruck yet, but I will strike it if I may,And if Apollo make that glory mine.He said, and at Antinoüs aimed directA bitter shaft; he, purposing to drink,10Both hands advanced toward the golden cupTwin-ear’d, nor aught suspected death so nigh.For who, at the full banquet, could suspectThat any single guest, however brave,Should plan his death, and execute the blow?Yet him Ulysses with an arrow piercedFull in the throat, and through his neck behindStarted the glitt’ring point. Aslant he droop’d;Down fell the goblet, through his nostrils flewThe spouted blood, and spurning with his foot20The board, he spread his viands in the dust.Confusion, when they saw Antinoüs fall’n,Seized all the suitors; from the thrones they sprang,Flew ev’ry way, and on all sides exploredThe palace-walls, but neither sturdy lanceAs erst, nor buckler could they there discern,Then, furious, to Ulysses thus they spake.Thy arrow, stranger, was ill-aimed; a manIs no just mark. Thou never shalt disputePrize more. Inevitable death is thine.30For thou hast slain a Prince noblest of allIn Ithaca, and shalt be vultures’ food.Various their judgments were, but none believedThat he had slain him wittingly, nor sawTh’ infatuate men fate hov’ring o’er them all.Then thus Ulysses, louring dark, replied.O dogs! not fearing aught my safe returnFrom Ilium, ye have shorn my substance close,Lain with my women forcibly, and sought,While yet I lived, to make my consort yours,40Heedless of the inhabitants of heav’nAlike, and of the just revenge of man.But death is on the wing; death for you all.He said; their cheeks all faded at the sound,And each with sharpen’d eyes search’d ev’ry nookFor an escape from his impending doom,Till thus, alone, Eurymachus replied.If thou indeed art he, the mighty ChiefOf Ithaca return’d, thou hast rehears’dWith truth the crimes committed by the Greeks50Frequent, both in thy house and in thy field.But he, already, who was cause of all,Lies slain, Antinoüs; he thy palace fill’dWith outrage, not solicitous so muchTo win the fair Penelope, but thoughtsFar diff’rent framing, which Saturnian JoveHath baffled all; to rule, himself, supremeIn noble Ithaca, when he had kill’dBy an insidious stratagem thy son.But he is slain. Now therefore, spare thy own,60Thy people; public reparation dueShall sure be thine, and to appease thy wrathFor all the waste that, eating, drinking hereWe have committed, we will yield thee, each,Full twenty beeves, gold paying thee besideAnd brass, till joy shall fill thee at the sight,However just thine anger was before.To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied,Eurymachus, would ye contribute eachHis whole inheritance, and other sums70Still add beside, ye should not, even so,These hands of mine bribe to abstain from blood,Till ev’ry suitor suffer for his wrong.Ye have your choice. Fight with me, or escape(Whoever may) the terrours of his fate,But ye all perish, if my thought be true.He ended, they with trembling knees and heartsAll heard, whom thus Eurymachus address’d.To your defence, my friends! for respite noneWill he to his victorious hands afford,80But, arm’d with bow and quiver, will dispatchShafts from the door till he have slain us all.Therefore to arms—draw each his sword—opposeThe tables to his shafts, and all at onceRush on him; that, dislodging him at leastFrom portal and from threshold, we may giveThe city on all sides a loud alarm,So shall this archer soon have shot his last.Thus saying, he drew his brazen faulchion keenOf double edge, and with a dreadful cry90Sprang on him; but Ulysses with a shaftIn that same moment through his bosom driv’nTransfix’d his liver, and down dropp’d his sword.He, staggering around his table, fellConvolv’d in agonies, and overturn’dBoth food and wine; his forehead smote the floor;Woe fill’d his heart, and spurning with his heelsHis vacant seat, he shook it till he died.Then, with his faulchion drawn, AmphinomusAdvanced to drive Ulysses from the door,100And fierce was his assault; but, from behind,Telemachus between his shoulders fix’dA brazen lance, and urged it through his breast.Full on his front, with hideous sound, he fell.Leaving the weapon planted in his spineBack flew Telemachus, lest, had he stoodDrawing it forth, some enemy, perchance,Should either pierce him with a sudden thrustOblique, or hew him with a downright edge.Swift, therefore, to his father’s side he ran,110Whom reaching, in wing’d accents thus he said.My father! I will now bring thee a shield,An helmet, and two spears; I will encloseMyself in armour also, and will giveBoth to the herdsmen and Eumæus armsExpedient now, and needful for us all.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.Run; fetch them, while I yet have arrows left,Lest, single, I be justled from the door.He said, and, at his word, forth went the Prince,120Seeking the chamber where he had securedThe armour. Thence he took four shields, eight spears,With four hair-crested helmets, charged with whichHe hasted to his father’s side again,And, arming first himself, furnish’d with armsHis two attendants. Then, all clad alikeIn splendid brass, beside the dauntless ChiefUlysses, his auxiliars firm they stood.He, while a single arrow unemploy’dLay at his foot, right-aiming, ever pierced130Some suitor through, and heaps on heaps they fell.But when his arrows fail’d the royal Chief,His bow reclining at the portal’s sideAgainst the palace-wall, he slung, himself,A four-fold buckler on his arm, he fix’dA casque whose crest wav’d awful o’er his browsOn his illustrious head, and fill’d his gripeWith two stout spears, well-headed both, with brass.There was a certain postern in the wall103At the gate-side, the customary pass140Into a narrow street, but barr’d secure.Ulysses bade his faithful swine-herd watchThat egress, station’d near it, for it own’dOne sole approach; then Agelaüs loudExhorting all the suitors, thus exclaim’d.Oh friends, will none, ascending to the doorOf yonder postern, summon to our aidThe populace, and spread a wide alarm?So shall this archer soon have shot his last.To whom the keeper of the goats replied150Melanthius. Agelaüs! Prince renown’d!That may not be. The postern and the gate104Neighbour too near each other, and to forceThe narrow egress were a vain attempt;One valiant man might thence repulse us all.But come—myself will furnish you with armsFetch’d from above; for there, as I suppose,(And not elsewhere) Ulysses and his sonHave hidden them, and there they shall be found.So spake Melanthius, and, ascending, sought160Ulysses’ chambers through the winding stairsAnd gall’ries of the house. Twelve bucklers thenceHe took, as many spears, and helmets brightAs many, shagg’d with hair, then swift return’dAnd gave them to his friends. Trembled the heartOf brave Ulysses, and his knees, at sightOf his opposers putting armour on,And shaking each his spear; arduous indeedNow seem’d his task, and in wing’d accents briefThus to his son Telemachus he spake.170Either some woman of our train contrivesHard battle for us, furnishing with armsThe suitors, or Melanthius arms them all.Him answer’d then Telemachus discrete.Father, this fault was mine, and be it chargedOn none beside; I left the chamber-doorUnbarr’d, which, more attentive than myself,Their spy perceived. But haste, Eumæus, shutThe chamber-door, observing well, the while,If any women of our train have done180This deed, or whether, as I more suspect,Melanthius, Dolius’ son, have giv’n them arms.Thus mutual they conferr’d; meantime, againMelanthius to the chamber flew in questOf other arms. Eumæus, as he went,Mark’d him, and to Ulysses’ thus he spake.Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!Behold, the traytor, whom ourselves supposed,Seeks yet again the chamber! Tell me plain,Shall I, should I superior prove in force,190Slay him, or shall I drag him thence to thee,That he may suffer at thy hands the doomDue to his treasons perpetrated oftAgainst thee, here, even in thy own house?Then answer thus Ulysses shrewd return’d.I, with Telemachus, will here immewThe lordly suitors close, rage as they may.Ye two, the while, bind fast Melanthius’ handsAnd feet behind his back, then cast him boundInto the chamber, and (the door secured)200Pass underneath his arms a double chain,And by a pillar’s top weigh him aloftTill he approach the rafters, there to endure,Living long time, the mis’ries he hath earned.He spake; they prompt obey’d; together bothThey sought the chamber, whom the wretch withinHeard not, exploring ev’ry nook for arms.They watching stood the door, from which, at length,Forth came Melanthius, bearing in one handA casque, and in the other a broad shield210Time-worn and chapp’d with drought, which in his youthWarlike Laertes had been wont to bear.Long time neglected it had lain, till ageHad loosed the sutures of its bands. At onceBoth, springing on him, seized and drew him inForcibly by his locks, then cast him downProne on the pavement, trembling at his fate.With painful stricture of the cord his handsThey bound and feet together at his back,As their illustrious master had enjoined,220Then weigh’d him with a double chain aloftBy a tall pillar to the palace-roof,And thus, deriding him, Eumæus spake.Now, good Melanthius, on that fleecy bedReclined, as well befits thee, thou wilt watchAll night, nor when the golden dawn forsakesThe ocean stream, will she escape thine eye,But thou wilt duly to the palace driveThe fattest goats, a banquet for thy friends.So saying, he left him in his dreadful sling.230Then, arming both, and barring fast the door,They sought brave Laertiades again.And now, courageous at the portal stoodThose four, by numbers in the interior houseOpposed of adversaries fierce in arms,When Pallas, in the form and with the voiceApproach’d of Mentor, whom Laertes’ sonBeheld, and joyful at the sight, exclaim’d.Help, Mentor! help—now recollect a friendAnd benefactor, born when thou wast born.240So he, not unsuspicious that he sawPallas, the heroine of heav’n. MeantimeThe suitors fill’d with menaces the dome,And Agelaüs, first, Damastor’s son,In accents harsh rebuked the Goddess thus.Beware, oh Mentor! that he lure thee notTo oppose the suitors and to aid himself,For thus will we. Ulysses and his sonBoth slain, in vengeance of thy purpos’d deedsAgainst us, we will slaytheenext, and thou250With thy own head shalt satisfy the wrong.Your force thus quell’d in battle, all thy wealthWhether in house or field, mingled with his,We will confiscate, neither will we leaveOr son of thine, or daughter in thy houseAlive, nor shall thy virtuous consort moreWithin the walls of Ithaca be seen.He ended, and his words with wrath inflamedMinerva’s heart the more; incensed, she turn’dTowards Ulysses, whom she thus reproved.260Thou neither own’st the courage nor the force,Ulysses, now, which nine whole years thou showd’stAt Ilium, waging battle obstinateFor high-born Helen, and in horrid fightDestroying multitudes, till thy adviceAt last lay’d Priam’s bulwark’d city low.Why, in possession of thy proper homeAnd substance, mourn’st thou want of pow’r t’opposeThe suitors? Stand beside me, mark my deeds,And thou shalt own Mentor Alcimides270A valiant friend, and mindful of thy love.She spake; nor made she victory as yetEntire his own, proving the valour, first,Both of the sire and of his glorious son,But, springing in a swallow’s form aloft,Perch’d on a rafter of the splendid roof.Then, Agelaüs animated loudThe suitors, whom Eurynomus also roused,Amphimedon, and Demoptolemus,And Polyctorides, Pisander named,280And Polybus the brave; for noblest farOf all the suitor-chiefs who now survivedAnd fought for life were these. The bow had quell’dAnd shafts, in quick succession sent, the rest.Then Agelaüs, thus, harangued them all.We soon shall tame, O friends, this warrior’s might,Whom Mentor, after all his airy vauntsHath left, and at the portal now remainThemselves alone. Dismiss not therefore, all,Your spears together, but with six alone290Assail them first; Jove willing, we shall pierceUlysses, and subduing him, shall slayWith ease the rest; their force is safely scorn’d.He ceas’d; and, as he bade, six hurl’d the spearTogether; but Minerva gave them allA devious flight; one struck a column, oneThe planks of the broad portal, and a third105Flung right his ashen beam pond’rous with brassAgainst the wall. Then (ev’ry suitor’s spearEluded) thus Ulysses gave the word—300Now friends! I counsel you that ye dismissYour spears atthem, who, not content with pastEnormities, thirst also for our blood.He said, and with unerring aim, all threwTheir glitt’ring spears. Ulysses on the groundStretch’d Demoptolemus; EuryadesFell by Telemachus; the swine-herd slewEl[)a]tus; and the keeper of the beevesPisander; in one moment all alikeLay grinding with their teeth the dusty floor.310Back flew the suitors to the farthest wall,On whom those valiant four advancing, eachRecover’d, quick, his weapon from the dead.Then hurl’d the desp’rate suitors yet againTheir glitt’ring spears, but Pallas gave to eachA frustrate course; one struck a column, oneThe planks of the broad portal, and a thirdFlung full his ashen beam against the wall.Yet pierced Amphimedon the Prince’s wrist,But slightly, a skin-wound, and o’er his shield320Ctesippus reach’d the shoulder of the goodEumæus, but his glancing weapon swiftO’erflew the mark, and fell. And now the four,Ulysses, dauntless Hero, and his friendsAll hurl’d their spears together in return,Himself Ulysses, city-waster Chief,Wounded Eurydamas; Ulysses’ sonAmphimedon; the swine-herd Polybus;And in his breast the keeper of the beevesCtesippus, glorying over whom, he cried.330Oh son of Polytherses! whose delightHath been to taunt and jeer, never againBoast foolishly, but to the Gods commitThy tongue, since they are mightier far than thou.Take this—a compensation for thy pledgeOf hospitality, the huge ox-hoof,Which while he roam’d the palace, begging alms,Ulysses at thy bounteous hand received.So gloried he; then, grasping still his spear,Ulysses pierced Damastor’s son, and, next,340Telemachus, enforcing his long beamSheer through his bowels and his back, transpiercedLeiocritus, he prostrate smote the floor.Then, Pallas from the lofty roof held forthHer host-confounding Ægis o’er their heads,With’ring their souls with fear. They through the hallFled, scatter’d as an herd, which rapid-wing’dThe gad-fly dissipates, infester fellOf beeves, when vernal suns shine hot and long.But, as when bow-beak’d vultures crooked-claw’d106350Stoop from the mountains on the smaller fowl;Terrified at the toils that spread the plainThe flocks take wing, they, darting from above,Strike, seize, and slay, resistance or escapeIs none, the fowler’s heart leaps with delight,So they, pursuing through the spacious hallThe suitors, smote them on all sides, their headsSounded beneath the sword, with hideous groansThe palace rang, and the floor foamed with blood.Then flew Leiodes to Ulysses’ knees,360Which clasping, in wing’d accents thus he cried.I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respectMy suit, and spare me! Never have I wordInjurious spoken, or injurious deedAttempted ’gainst the women of thy house,But others, so transgressing, oft forbad.Yet they abstain’d not, and a dreadful fateDue to their wickedness have, therefore, found.But I, their soothsayer alone, must fall,Though unoffending; such is the return370By mortals made for benefits received!To whom Ulysses, louring dark, replied.Is that thy boast? Hast thou indeed for theseThe seer’s high office fill’d? Then, doubtless, oftThy pray’r hath been that distant far might proveThe day delectable of my return,And that my consort might thy own becomeTo bear thee children; wherefore thee I doomTo a dire death which thou shalt not avoid.So saying, he caught the faulchion from the floor380Which Agelaüs had let fall, and smoteLeiodes, while he kneel’d, athwart his neckSo suddenly, that ere his tongue had ceasedTo plead for life, his head was in the dust.But Phemius, son of Terpius, bard divine,Who, through compulsion, with his song regaledThe suitors, a like dreadful death escaped.Fast by the postern, harp in hand, he stood,Doubtful if, issuing, he should take his seatBeside the altar of Hercæan Jove,107390Where oft Ulysses offer’d, and his sire,Fat thighs of beeves, or whether he should haste,An earnest suppliant, to embrace his knees.That course, at length, most pleased him; then, betweenThe beaker and an argent-studded throneHe grounded his sweet lyre, and seizing fastThe Hero’s knees, him, suppliant, thus address’d.I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respectMy suit, and spare me. Thou shalt not escapeRegret thyself hereafter, if thou slay400Me, charmer of the woes of Gods and men.Self-taught am I, and treasure in my mindThemes of all argument from heav’n inspired,And I can sing to thee as to a God.Ah, then, behead me not. Put ev’n the wishFar from thee! for thy own beloved sonCan witness, that not drawn by choice, or driv’nBy stress of want, resorting to thine houseI have regaled these revellers so oft,But under force of mightier far than I.410So he; whose words soon as the sacred mightHeard of Telemachus, approaching quickHis father, thus, humane, he interposed.Hold, harm not with the vengeful faulchion’s edgeThis blameless man; and we will also spareMedon the herald, who hath ever beenA watchful guardian of my boyish years,Unless Philœtius have already slain him,Or else Eumæus, or thyself, perchance,Unconscious, in the tumult of our foes.420He spake, whom Medon hearing (for he layBeneath a throne, and in a new-stript hideEnfolded, trembling with the dread of death)Sprang from his hiding-place, and casting offThe skin, flew to Telemachus, embracedHis knees, and in wing’d accents thus exclaim’d.Prince! I am here—oh, pity me! repressThine own, and pacify thy father’s wrath,That he destroy not me, through fierce revengeOf their iniquities who have consumed430His wealth, and, in their folly scorn’d his son.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied,Smiling complacent. Fear not; my own sonHath pleaded for thee. Therefore (taught thyselfThat truth) teach others the superior worthOf benefits with injuries compared.But go ye forth, thou and the sacred bard,That ye may sit distant in yonder courtFrom all this carnage, while I give command,Myself, concerning it, to those within.440He ceas’d; they going forth, took each his seatBeside Jove’s altar, but with careful looksSuspicious, dreading without cease the sword.Meantime Ulysses search’d his hall, in questOf living foes, if any still survivedUnpunish’d; but he found them all alikeWelt’ring in dust and blood; num’rous they layLike fishes when they strew the sinuous shoreOf Ocean, from the grey gulph drawn agroundIn nets of many a mesh; they on the sands450Lie spread, athirst for the salt wave, till hotThe gazing sun dries all their life away;So lay the suitors heap’d, and thus at lengthThe prudent Chief gave order to his son.Telemachus! bid Euryclea comeQuickly, the nurse, to whom I would impartThe purpose which now occupies me most.He said; obedient to his sire, the PrinceSmote on the door, and summon’d loud the nurse.Arise thou ancient governess of all460Our female menials, and come forth; attendMy father; he hath somewhat for thine ear.So he; nor flew his words useless away,For, throwing wide the portal, forth she came,And, by Telemachus conducted, foundEre long Ulysses amid all the slain,With blood defiled and dust; dread he appear’dAs from the pastur’d ox newly-devouredThe lion stalking back; his ample chestWith gory drops and his broad cheeks are hung,470Tremendous spectacle! such seem’d the Chief,Blood-stain’d all over. She, the carnage spreadOn all sides seeing, and the pools of blood,Felt impulse forcible to publish loudThat wond’rous triumph; but her Lord repress’dThe shout of rapture ere it burst abroad,And in wing’d accents thus his will enforced.Silent exult, O ancient matron dear!Shout not, be still. Unholy is the voiceOf loud thanksgiving over slaughter’d men.480Their own atrocious deeds and the Gods’ willHave slain all these; for whether noble guestArrived or base, they scoff’d at all alike,And for their wickedness have, therefore, died.But say; of my domestic women, whoHave scorn’d me, and whom find’st thou innocent?To whom good Euryclea thus replied.My son! I will declare the truth; thou keep’stFemale domestics fifty in thy house,Whom we have made intelligent to comb490The fleece, and to perform whatever task.Of these, twice six have overpass’d the boundsOf modesty, respecting neither me,Nor yet the Queen; and thy own son, adultSo lately, no permission had from herTo regulate the women of her train.But I am gone, I fly with what hath pass’dTo the Queen’s ear, who nought suspects, so soundShe sleeps, by some divinity composed.Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise returned.500Hush, and disturb her not. Go. Summon firstThose wantons, who have long deserved to die.He ceas’d; then issued forth the ancient dameTo summon those bad women, and, meantime,Calling his son, Philœtius, and Eumæus,Ulysses in wing’d accents thus began.Bestir ye, and remove the dead; commandThose women also to your help; then cleanseWith bibulous sponges and with water allThe seats and tables; when ye shall have thus510Set all in order, lead those women forth,And in the centre of the spacious court,Between the scull’ry and the outer-wallSmite them with your broad faulchions till they loseIn death the mem’ry of their secret lovesIndulged with wretches lawless as themselves.He ended, and the damsels came at onceAll forth, lamenting, and with tepid tearsShow’ring the ground; with mutual labour, first,Bearing the bodies forth into the court,520They lodged them in the portico; meantimeUlysses, stern, enjoin’d them haste, and, urgedBy sad necessity, they bore all out.With sponges and with water, next, they cleansedThe thrones and tables, while TelemachusBeesom’d the floor, Eumæus in that workAiding him and the keeper of the beeves,And those twelve damsels bearing forth the soil.Thus, order giv’n to all within, they, next,Led forth the women, whom they shut between530The scull’ry and the outer-wall in closeDurance, from which no pris’ner could escape,And thus Telemachus discrete began.An honourable death is not for theseBy my advice, who have so often heap’dReproach on mine and on my mother’s head,And held lewd commerce with the suitor-train.He said, and noosing a strong galley-ropeTo an huge column, led the cord aroundThe spacious dome, suspended so aloft540That none with quiv’ring feet might reach the floor.As when a flight of doves ent’ring the copse,Or broad-wing’d thrushes, strike against the netWithin, ill rest, entangled, there they find,So they, suspended by the neck, expiredAll in one line together. Death abhorr’d!With restless feet awhile they beat the air,Then ceas’d. And now through vestibule and hallThey led Melanthius forth. With ruthless steelThey pared away his ears and nose, pluck’d forth550His parts of shame, destin’d to feed the dogs,And, still indignant, lopp’d his hands and feet.Then, laving each his feet and hands, they soughtAgain Ulysses; all their work was done,And thus the Chief to Euryclea spake.Bring blast-averting sulphur, nurse, bring fire!That I may fumigate my walls; then bidPenelope with her attendants down,And summon all the women of her train.But Euryclea, thus, his nurse, replied.560My son! thou hast well said; yet will I firstServe thee with vest and mantle. Stand not hereIn thy own palace cloath’d with tatters foulAnd beggarly—she will abhor the sight.Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.Not so. Bring fire for fumigation first.He said; nor Euryclea his lov’d nurseLonger delay’d, but sulphur brought and fire,When he with purifying steams, himself,Visited ev’ry part, the banquet-room,570The vestibule, the court. Ranging meantimeHis house magnificent, the matron call’dThe women to attend their Lord in haste,And they attended, bearing each a torch.Then gather’d they around him all, sincereWelcoming his return; with close embraceEnfolding him, each kiss’d his brows, and eachHis shoulders, and his hands lock’d fast in hers.He, irresistible the impulse feltTo sigh and weep, well recognizing all.580
Then, girding up his rags, Ulysses sprangWith bow and full-charged quiver to the door;Loose on the broad stone at his feet he pour’dHis arrows, and the suitors, thus, bespake.This prize, though difficult, hath been atchieved.Now for another mark which never manStruck yet, but I will strike it if I may,And if Apollo make that glory mine.He said, and at Antinoüs aimed directA bitter shaft; he, purposing to drink,10Both hands advanced toward the golden cupTwin-ear’d, nor aught suspected death so nigh.For who, at the full banquet, could suspectThat any single guest, however brave,Should plan his death, and execute the blow?Yet him Ulysses with an arrow piercedFull in the throat, and through his neck behindStarted the glitt’ring point. Aslant he droop’d;Down fell the goblet, through his nostrils flewThe spouted blood, and spurning with his foot20The board, he spread his viands in the dust.Confusion, when they saw Antinoüs fall’n,Seized all the suitors; from the thrones they sprang,Flew ev’ry way, and on all sides exploredThe palace-walls, but neither sturdy lanceAs erst, nor buckler could they there discern,Then, furious, to Ulysses thus they spake.Thy arrow, stranger, was ill-aimed; a manIs no just mark. Thou never shalt disputePrize more. Inevitable death is thine.30For thou hast slain a Prince noblest of allIn Ithaca, and shalt be vultures’ food.Various their judgments were, but none believedThat he had slain him wittingly, nor sawTh’ infatuate men fate hov’ring o’er them all.Then thus Ulysses, louring dark, replied.O dogs! not fearing aught my safe returnFrom Ilium, ye have shorn my substance close,Lain with my women forcibly, and sought,While yet I lived, to make my consort yours,40Heedless of the inhabitants of heav’nAlike, and of the just revenge of man.But death is on the wing; death for you all.He said; their cheeks all faded at the sound,And each with sharpen’d eyes search’d ev’ry nookFor an escape from his impending doom,Till thus, alone, Eurymachus replied.If thou indeed art he, the mighty ChiefOf Ithaca return’d, thou hast rehears’dWith truth the crimes committed by the Greeks50Frequent, both in thy house and in thy field.But he, already, who was cause of all,Lies slain, Antinoüs; he thy palace fill’dWith outrage, not solicitous so muchTo win the fair Penelope, but thoughtsFar diff’rent framing, which Saturnian JoveHath baffled all; to rule, himself, supremeIn noble Ithaca, when he had kill’dBy an insidious stratagem thy son.But he is slain. Now therefore, spare thy own,60Thy people; public reparation dueShall sure be thine, and to appease thy wrathFor all the waste that, eating, drinking hereWe have committed, we will yield thee, each,Full twenty beeves, gold paying thee besideAnd brass, till joy shall fill thee at the sight,However just thine anger was before.To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied,Eurymachus, would ye contribute eachHis whole inheritance, and other sums70Still add beside, ye should not, even so,These hands of mine bribe to abstain from blood,Till ev’ry suitor suffer for his wrong.Ye have your choice. Fight with me, or escape(Whoever may) the terrours of his fate,But ye all perish, if my thought be true.He ended, they with trembling knees and heartsAll heard, whom thus Eurymachus address’d.To your defence, my friends! for respite noneWill he to his victorious hands afford,80But, arm’d with bow and quiver, will dispatchShafts from the door till he have slain us all.Therefore to arms—draw each his sword—opposeThe tables to his shafts, and all at onceRush on him; that, dislodging him at leastFrom portal and from threshold, we may giveThe city on all sides a loud alarm,So shall this archer soon have shot his last.Thus saying, he drew his brazen faulchion keenOf double edge, and with a dreadful cry90Sprang on him; but Ulysses with a shaftIn that same moment through his bosom driv’nTransfix’d his liver, and down dropp’d his sword.He, staggering around his table, fellConvolv’d in agonies, and overturn’dBoth food and wine; his forehead smote the floor;Woe fill’d his heart, and spurning with his heelsHis vacant seat, he shook it till he died.Then, with his faulchion drawn, AmphinomusAdvanced to drive Ulysses from the door,100And fierce was his assault; but, from behind,Telemachus between his shoulders fix’dA brazen lance, and urged it through his breast.Full on his front, with hideous sound, he fell.Leaving the weapon planted in his spineBack flew Telemachus, lest, had he stoodDrawing it forth, some enemy, perchance,Should either pierce him with a sudden thrustOblique, or hew him with a downright edge.Swift, therefore, to his father’s side he ran,110Whom reaching, in wing’d accents thus he said.My father! I will now bring thee a shield,An helmet, and two spears; I will encloseMyself in armour also, and will giveBoth to the herdsmen and Eumæus armsExpedient now, and needful for us all.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.Run; fetch them, while I yet have arrows left,Lest, single, I be justled from the door.He said, and, at his word, forth went the Prince,120Seeking the chamber where he had securedThe armour. Thence he took four shields, eight spears,With four hair-crested helmets, charged with whichHe hasted to his father’s side again,And, arming first himself, furnish’d with armsHis two attendants. Then, all clad alikeIn splendid brass, beside the dauntless ChiefUlysses, his auxiliars firm they stood.He, while a single arrow unemploy’dLay at his foot, right-aiming, ever pierced130Some suitor through, and heaps on heaps they fell.But when his arrows fail’d the royal Chief,His bow reclining at the portal’s sideAgainst the palace-wall, he slung, himself,A four-fold buckler on his arm, he fix’dA casque whose crest wav’d awful o’er his browsOn his illustrious head, and fill’d his gripeWith two stout spears, well-headed both, with brass.There was a certain postern in the wall103At the gate-side, the customary pass140Into a narrow street, but barr’d secure.Ulysses bade his faithful swine-herd watchThat egress, station’d near it, for it own’dOne sole approach; then Agelaüs loudExhorting all the suitors, thus exclaim’d.Oh friends, will none, ascending to the doorOf yonder postern, summon to our aidThe populace, and spread a wide alarm?So shall this archer soon have shot his last.To whom the keeper of the goats replied150Melanthius. Agelaüs! Prince renown’d!That may not be. The postern and the gate104Neighbour too near each other, and to forceThe narrow egress were a vain attempt;One valiant man might thence repulse us all.But come—myself will furnish you with armsFetch’d from above; for there, as I suppose,(And not elsewhere) Ulysses and his sonHave hidden them, and there they shall be found.So spake Melanthius, and, ascending, sought160Ulysses’ chambers through the winding stairsAnd gall’ries of the house. Twelve bucklers thenceHe took, as many spears, and helmets brightAs many, shagg’d with hair, then swift return’dAnd gave them to his friends. Trembled the heartOf brave Ulysses, and his knees, at sightOf his opposers putting armour on,And shaking each his spear; arduous indeedNow seem’d his task, and in wing’d accents briefThus to his son Telemachus he spake.170Either some woman of our train contrivesHard battle for us, furnishing with armsThe suitors, or Melanthius arms them all.Him answer’d then Telemachus discrete.Father, this fault was mine, and be it chargedOn none beside; I left the chamber-doorUnbarr’d, which, more attentive than myself,Their spy perceived. But haste, Eumæus, shutThe chamber-door, observing well, the while,If any women of our train have done180This deed, or whether, as I more suspect,Melanthius, Dolius’ son, have giv’n them arms.Thus mutual they conferr’d; meantime, againMelanthius to the chamber flew in questOf other arms. Eumæus, as he went,Mark’d him, and to Ulysses’ thus he spake.Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!Behold, the traytor, whom ourselves supposed,Seeks yet again the chamber! Tell me plain,Shall I, should I superior prove in force,190Slay him, or shall I drag him thence to thee,That he may suffer at thy hands the doomDue to his treasons perpetrated oftAgainst thee, here, even in thy own house?Then answer thus Ulysses shrewd return’d.I, with Telemachus, will here immewThe lordly suitors close, rage as they may.Ye two, the while, bind fast Melanthius’ handsAnd feet behind his back, then cast him boundInto the chamber, and (the door secured)200Pass underneath his arms a double chain,And by a pillar’s top weigh him aloftTill he approach the rafters, there to endure,Living long time, the mis’ries he hath earned.He spake; they prompt obey’d; together bothThey sought the chamber, whom the wretch withinHeard not, exploring ev’ry nook for arms.They watching stood the door, from which, at length,Forth came Melanthius, bearing in one handA casque, and in the other a broad shield210Time-worn and chapp’d with drought, which in his youthWarlike Laertes had been wont to bear.Long time neglected it had lain, till ageHad loosed the sutures of its bands. At onceBoth, springing on him, seized and drew him inForcibly by his locks, then cast him downProne on the pavement, trembling at his fate.With painful stricture of the cord his handsThey bound and feet together at his back,As their illustrious master had enjoined,220Then weigh’d him with a double chain aloftBy a tall pillar to the palace-roof,And thus, deriding him, Eumæus spake.Now, good Melanthius, on that fleecy bedReclined, as well befits thee, thou wilt watchAll night, nor when the golden dawn forsakesThe ocean stream, will she escape thine eye,But thou wilt duly to the palace driveThe fattest goats, a banquet for thy friends.So saying, he left him in his dreadful sling.230Then, arming both, and barring fast the door,They sought brave Laertiades again.And now, courageous at the portal stoodThose four, by numbers in the interior houseOpposed of adversaries fierce in arms,When Pallas, in the form and with the voiceApproach’d of Mentor, whom Laertes’ sonBeheld, and joyful at the sight, exclaim’d.Help, Mentor! help—now recollect a friendAnd benefactor, born when thou wast born.240So he, not unsuspicious that he sawPallas, the heroine of heav’n. MeantimeThe suitors fill’d with menaces the dome,And Agelaüs, first, Damastor’s son,In accents harsh rebuked the Goddess thus.Beware, oh Mentor! that he lure thee notTo oppose the suitors and to aid himself,For thus will we. Ulysses and his sonBoth slain, in vengeance of thy purpos’d deedsAgainst us, we will slaytheenext, and thou250With thy own head shalt satisfy the wrong.Your force thus quell’d in battle, all thy wealthWhether in house or field, mingled with his,We will confiscate, neither will we leaveOr son of thine, or daughter in thy houseAlive, nor shall thy virtuous consort moreWithin the walls of Ithaca be seen.He ended, and his words with wrath inflamedMinerva’s heart the more; incensed, she turn’dTowards Ulysses, whom she thus reproved.260Thou neither own’st the courage nor the force,Ulysses, now, which nine whole years thou showd’stAt Ilium, waging battle obstinateFor high-born Helen, and in horrid fightDestroying multitudes, till thy adviceAt last lay’d Priam’s bulwark’d city low.Why, in possession of thy proper homeAnd substance, mourn’st thou want of pow’r t’opposeThe suitors? Stand beside me, mark my deeds,And thou shalt own Mentor Alcimides270A valiant friend, and mindful of thy love.She spake; nor made she victory as yetEntire his own, proving the valour, first,Both of the sire and of his glorious son,But, springing in a swallow’s form aloft,Perch’d on a rafter of the splendid roof.Then, Agelaüs animated loudThe suitors, whom Eurynomus also roused,Amphimedon, and Demoptolemus,And Polyctorides, Pisander named,280And Polybus the brave; for noblest farOf all the suitor-chiefs who now survivedAnd fought for life were these. The bow had quell’dAnd shafts, in quick succession sent, the rest.Then Agelaüs, thus, harangued them all.We soon shall tame, O friends, this warrior’s might,Whom Mentor, after all his airy vauntsHath left, and at the portal now remainThemselves alone. Dismiss not therefore, all,Your spears together, but with six alone290Assail them first; Jove willing, we shall pierceUlysses, and subduing him, shall slayWith ease the rest; their force is safely scorn’d.He ceas’d; and, as he bade, six hurl’d the spearTogether; but Minerva gave them allA devious flight; one struck a column, oneThe planks of the broad portal, and a third105Flung right his ashen beam pond’rous with brassAgainst the wall. Then (ev’ry suitor’s spearEluded) thus Ulysses gave the word—300Now friends! I counsel you that ye dismissYour spears atthem, who, not content with pastEnormities, thirst also for our blood.He said, and with unerring aim, all threwTheir glitt’ring spears. Ulysses on the groundStretch’d Demoptolemus; EuryadesFell by Telemachus; the swine-herd slewEl[)a]tus; and the keeper of the beevesPisander; in one moment all alikeLay grinding with their teeth the dusty floor.310Back flew the suitors to the farthest wall,On whom those valiant four advancing, eachRecover’d, quick, his weapon from the dead.Then hurl’d the desp’rate suitors yet againTheir glitt’ring spears, but Pallas gave to eachA frustrate course; one struck a column, oneThe planks of the broad portal, and a thirdFlung full his ashen beam against the wall.Yet pierced Amphimedon the Prince’s wrist,But slightly, a skin-wound, and o’er his shield320Ctesippus reach’d the shoulder of the goodEumæus, but his glancing weapon swiftO’erflew the mark, and fell. And now the four,Ulysses, dauntless Hero, and his friendsAll hurl’d their spears together in return,Himself Ulysses, city-waster Chief,Wounded Eurydamas; Ulysses’ sonAmphimedon; the swine-herd Polybus;And in his breast the keeper of the beevesCtesippus, glorying over whom, he cried.330Oh son of Polytherses! whose delightHath been to taunt and jeer, never againBoast foolishly, but to the Gods commitThy tongue, since they are mightier far than thou.Take this—a compensation for thy pledgeOf hospitality, the huge ox-hoof,Which while he roam’d the palace, begging alms,Ulysses at thy bounteous hand received.So gloried he; then, grasping still his spear,Ulysses pierced Damastor’s son, and, next,340Telemachus, enforcing his long beamSheer through his bowels and his back, transpiercedLeiocritus, he prostrate smote the floor.Then, Pallas from the lofty roof held forthHer host-confounding Ægis o’er their heads,With’ring their souls with fear. They through the hallFled, scatter’d as an herd, which rapid-wing’dThe gad-fly dissipates, infester fellOf beeves, when vernal suns shine hot and long.But, as when bow-beak’d vultures crooked-claw’d106350Stoop from the mountains on the smaller fowl;Terrified at the toils that spread the plainThe flocks take wing, they, darting from above,Strike, seize, and slay, resistance or escapeIs none, the fowler’s heart leaps with delight,So they, pursuing through the spacious hallThe suitors, smote them on all sides, their headsSounded beneath the sword, with hideous groansThe palace rang, and the floor foamed with blood.Then flew Leiodes to Ulysses’ knees,360Which clasping, in wing’d accents thus he cried.I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respectMy suit, and spare me! Never have I wordInjurious spoken, or injurious deedAttempted ’gainst the women of thy house,But others, so transgressing, oft forbad.Yet they abstain’d not, and a dreadful fateDue to their wickedness have, therefore, found.But I, their soothsayer alone, must fall,Though unoffending; such is the return370By mortals made for benefits received!To whom Ulysses, louring dark, replied.Is that thy boast? Hast thou indeed for theseThe seer’s high office fill’d? Then, doubtless, oftThy pray’r hath been that distant far might proveThe day delectable of my return,And that my consort might thy own becomeTo bear thee children; wherefore thee I doomTo a dire death which thou shalt not avoid.So saying, he caught the faulchion from the floor380Which Agelaüs had let fall, and smoteLeiodes, while he kneel’d, athwart his neckSo suddenly, that ere his tongue had ceasedTo plead for life, his head was in the dust.But Phemius, son of Terpius, bard divine,Who, through compulsion, with his song regaledThe suitors, a like dreadful death escaped.Fast by the postern, harp in hand, he stood,Doubtful if, issuing, he should take his seatBeside the altar of Hercæan Jove,107390Where oft Ulysses offer’d, and his sire,Fat thighs of beeves, or whether he should haste,An earnest suppliant, to embrace his knees.That course, at length, most pleased him; then, betweenThe beaker and an argent-studded throneHe grounded his sweet lyre, and seizing fastThe Hero’s knees, him, suppliant, thus address’d.I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respectMy suit, and spare me. Thou shalt not escapeRegret thyself hereafter, if thou slay400Me, charmer of the woes of Gods and men.Self-taught am I, and treasure in my mindThemes of all argument from heav’n inspired,And I can sing to thee as to a God.Ah, then, behead me not. Put ev’n the wishFar from thee! for thy own beloved sonCan witness, that not drawn by choice, or driv’nBy stress of want, resorting to thine houseI have regaled these revellers so oft,But under force of mightier far than I.410So he; whose words soon as the sacred mightHeard of Telemachus, approaching quickHis father, thus, humane, he interposed.Hold, harm not with the vengeful faulchion’s edgeThis blameless man; and we will also spareMedon the herald, who hath ever beenA watchful guardian of my boyish years,Unless Philœtius have already slain him,Or else Eumæus, or thyself, perchance,Unconscious, in the tumult of our foes.420He spake, whom Medon hearing (for he layBeneath a throne, and in a new-stript hideEnfolded, trembling with the dread of death)Sprang from his hiding-place, and casting offThe skin, flew to Telemachus, embracedHis knees, and in wing’d accents thus exclaim’d.Prince! I am here—oh, pity me! repressThine own, and pacify thy father’s wrath,That he destroy not me, through fierce revengeOf their iniquities who have consumed430His wealth, and, in their folly scorn’d his son.To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied,Smiling complacent. Fear not; my own sonHath pleaded for thee. Therefore (taught thyselfThat truth) teach others the superior worthOf benefits with injuries compared.But go ye forth, thou and the sacred bard,That ye may sit distant in yonder courtFrom all this carnage, while I give command,Myself, concerning it, to those within.440He ceas’d; they going forth, took each his seatBeside Jove’s altar, but with careful looksSuspicious, dreading without cease the sword.Meantime Ulysses search’d his hall, in questOf living foes, if any still survivedUnpunish’d; but he found them all alikeWelt’ring in dust and blood; num’rous they layLike fishes when they strew the sinuous shoreOf Ocean, from the grey gulph drawn agroundIn nets of many a mesh; they on the sands450Lie spread, athirst for the salt wave, till hotThe gazing sun dries all their life away;So lay the suitors heap’d, and thus at lengthThe prudent Chief gave order to his son.Telemachus! bid Euryclea comeQuickly, the nurse, to whom I would impartThe purpose which now occupies me most.He said; obedient to his sire, the PrinceSmote on the door, and summon’d loud the nurse.Arise thou ancient governess of all460Our female menials, and come forth; attendMy father; he hath somewhat for thine ear.So he; nor flew his words useless away,For, throwing wide the portal, forth she came,And, by Telemachus conducted, foundEre long Ulysses amid all the slain,With blood defiled and dust; dread he appear’dAs from the pastur’d ox newly-devouredThe lion stalking back; his ample chestWith gory drops and his broad cheeks are hung,470Tremendous spectacle! such seem’d the Chief,Blood-stain’d all over. She, the carnage spreadOn all sides seeing, and the pools of blood,Felt impulse forcible to publish loudThat wond’rous triumph; but her Lord repress’dThe shout of rapture ere it burst abroad,And in wing’d accents thus his will enforced.Silent exult, O ancient matron dear!Shout not, be still. Unholy is the voiceOf loud thanksgiving over slaughter’d men.480Their own atrocious deeds and the Gods’ willHave slain all these; for whether noble guestArrived or base, they scoff’d at all alike,And for their wickedness have, therefore, died.But say; of my domestic women, whoHave scorn’d me, and whom find’st thou innocent?To whom good Euryclea thus replied.My son! I will declare the truth; thou keep’stFemale domestics fifty in thy house,Whom we have made intelligent to comb490The fleece, and to perform whatever task.Of these, twice six have overpass’d the boundsOf modesty, respecting neither me,Nor yet the Queen; and thy own son, adultSo lately, no permission had from herTo regulate the women of her train.But I am gone, I fly with what hath pass’dTo the Queen’s ear, who nought suspects, so soundShe sleeps, by some divinity composed.Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise returned.500Hush, and disturb her not. Go. Summon firstThose wantons, who have long deserved to die.He ceas’d; then issued forth the ancient dameTo summon those bad women, and, meantime,Calling his son, Philœtius, and Eumæus,Ulysses in wing’d accents thus began.Bestir ye, and remove the dead; commandThose women also to your help; then cleanseWith bibulous sponges and with water allThe seats and tables; when ye shall have thus510Set all in order, lead those women forth,And in the centre of the spacious court,Between the scull’ry and the outer-wallSmite them with your broad faulchions till they loseIn death the mem’ry of their secret lovesIndulged with wretches lawless as themselves.He ended, and the damsels came at onceAll forth, lamenting, and with tepid tearsShow’ring the ground; with mutual labour, first,Bearing the bodies forth into the court,520They lodged them in the portico; meantimeUlysses, stern, enjoin’d them haste, and, urgedBy sad necessity, they bore all out.With sponges and with water, next, they cleansedThe thrones and tables, while TelemachusBeesom’d the floor, Eumæus in that workAiding him and the keeper of the beeves,And those twelve damsels bearing forth the soil.Thus, order giv’n to all within, they, next,Led forth the women, whom they shut between530The scull’ry and the outer-wall in closeDurance, from which no pris’ner could escape,And thus Telemachus discrete began.An honourable death is not for theseBy my advice, who have so often heap’dReproach on mine and on my mother’s head,And held lewd commerce with the suitor-train.He said, and noosing a strong galley-ropeTo an huge column, led the cord aroundThe spacious dome, suspended so aloft540That none with quiv’ring feet might reach the floor.As when a flight of doves ent’ring the copse,Or broad-wing’d thrushes, strike against the netWithin, ill rest, entangled, there they find,So they, suspended by the neck, expiredAll in one line together. Death abhorr’d!With restless feet awhile they beat the air,Then ceas’d. And now through vestibule and hallThey led Melanthius forth. With ruthless steelThey pared away his ears and nose, pluck’d forth550His parts of shame, destin’d to feed the dogs,And, still indignant, lopp’d his hands and feet.Then, laving each his feet and hands, they soughtAgain Ulysses; all their work was done,And thus the Chief to Euryclea spake.Bring blast-averting sulphur, nurse, bring fire!That I may fumigate my walls; then bidPenelope with her attendants down,And summon all the women of her train.But Euryclea, thus, his nurse, replied.560My son! thou hast well said; yet will I firstServe thee with vest and mantle. Stand not hereIn thy own palace cloath’d with tatters foulAnd beggarly—she will abhor the sight.Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.Not so. Bring fire for fumigation first.He said; nor Euryclea his lov’d nurseLonger delay’d, but sulphur brought and fire,When he with purifying steams, himself,Visited ev’ry part, the banquet-room,570The vestibule, the court. Ranging meantimeHis house magnificent, the matron call’dThe women to attend their Lord in haste,And they attended, bearing each a torch.Then gather’d they around him all, sincereWelcoming his return; with close embraceEnfolding him, each kiss’d his brows, and eachHis shoulders, and his hands lock’d fast in hers.He, irresistible the impulse feltTo sigh and weep, well recognizing all.580
103If the ancients found it difficult to ascertain clearly the situation of thisοÏτοθυÏη, well may we. The Translator has given it the position which to him appeared most probable.—There seem to have been two of these posterns, one leading to a part from which the town might be alarmed, the other to the chamber to which Telemachus went for armour. There was one, perhaps, on each side of the portal, and they appear to have been at some height above the floor.104At which Ulysses stood.105The deviation of three only is described, which must be understood, therefore, as instances of the ill success of all.106In this simile we seem to have a curious account of the ancient manner of fowling. The nets (forνεφεαis used in that sense by Aristophanes) were spread on a plain; on an adjoining rising ground were stationed they who had charge of the vultures (such Homer calls them) which were trained to the sport. The alarm being given to the birds below, the vultures were loosed, when if any of them escaped their talons, the nets were ready to enclose them.SeeEustathius Dacier. Clarke.107So called because he was worshipped within theἘÏκοςor wall that surrounded the court.
103If the ancients found it difficult to ascertain clearly the situation of thisοÏτοθυÏη, well may we. The Translator has given it the position which to him appeared most probable.—There seem to have been two of these posterns, one leading to a part from which the town might be alarmed, the other to the chamber to which Telemachus went for armour. There was one, perhaps, on each side of the portal, and they appear to have been at some height above the floor.
103If the ancients found it difficult to ascertain clearly the situation of thisοÏτοθυÏη, well may we. The Translator has given it the position which to him appeared most probable.—There seem to have been two of these posterns, one leading to a part from which the town might be alarmed, the other to the chamber to which Telemachus went for armour. There was one, perhaps, on each side of the portal, and they appear to have been at some height above the floor.
104At which Ulysses stood.
104At which Ulysses stood.
105The deviation of three only is described, which must be understood, therefore, as instances of the ill success of all.
105The deviation of three only is described, which must be understood, therefore, as instances of the ill success of all.
106In this simile we seem to have a curious account of the ancient manner of fowling. The nets (forνεφεαis used in that sense by Aristophanes) were spread on a plain; on an adjoining rising ground were stationed they who had charge of the vultures (such Homer calls them) which were trained to the sport. The alarm being given to the birds below, the vultures were loosed, when if any of them escaped their talons, the nets were ready to enclose them.SeeEustathius Dacier. Clarke.
106In this simile we seem to have a curious account of the ancient manner of fowling. The nets (forνεφεαis used in that sense by Aristophanes) were spread on a plain; on an adjoining rising ground were stationed they who had charge of the vultures (such Homer calls them) which were trained to the sport. The alarm being given to the birds below, the vultures were loosed, when if any of them escaped their talons, the nets were ready to enclose them.SeeEustathius Dacier. Clarke.
107So called because he was worshipped within theἘÏκοςor wall that surrounded the court.
107So called because he was worshipped within theἘÏκοςor wall that surrounded the court.