# The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer (Cowper)/Volume 2/The Odyssey/Book XXII

There is a section in the notes about line 139 and line 141 below.
The footnotes are present in Cowper's translation.
BOOK XXII
ARGUMENT
Then, girding up his rags, Ulysses sprang With bow and full-charged quiver to the door; Loose on the broad stone at his feet he pour’d His arrows, and the suitors, thus, bespake.  This prize, though difficult, hath been atchieved. Now for another mark which never man Struck yet, but I will strike it if I may, And if Apollo make that glory mine.  He said, and at Antinoüs aimed direct A bitter shaft; he, purposing to drink, Both hands advanced toward the golden cup Twin-ear’d, nor aught suspected death so nigh. For who, at the full banquet, could suspect That any single guest, however brave, Should plan his death, and execute the blow? Yet him Ulysses with an arrow pierced Full in the throat, and through his neck behind Started the glitt’ring point. Aslant he droop’d; Down fell the goblet, through his nostrils flew The spouted blood, and spurning with his foot The 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 explored The palace-walls, but neither sturdy lance As erst, nor buckler could they there discern, Then, furious, to Ulysses thus they spake.  Thy arrow, stranger, was ill-aimed; a man Is no just mark. Thou never shalt dispute Prize more. Inevitable death is thine. For thou hast slain a Prince noblest of all In Ithaca, and shalt be vultures’ food.  Various their judgments were, but none believed That he had slain him wittingly, nor saw Th’ infatuate men fate hov’ring o’er them all. Then thus Ulysses, louring dark, replied.  O dogs! not fearing aught my safe return From Ilium, ye have shorn my substance close, Lain with my women forcibly, and sought, While yet I lived, to make my consort yours, Heedless of the inhabitants of heav’n Alike, 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 nook For an escape from his impending doom, Till thus, alone, Eurymachus replied.  If thou indeed art he, the mighty Chief Of Ithaca return’d, thou hast rehears’d With truth the crimes committed by the Greeks Frequent, both in thy house and in thy field. But he, already, who was cause of all, Lies slain, Antinoüs; he thy palace fill’d With outrage, not solicitous so much To win the fair Penelope, but thoughts Far diff’rent framing, which Saturnian Jove Hath baffled all; to rule, himself, supreme In noble Ithaca, when he had kill’d By an insidious stratagem thy son. But he is slain. Now therefore, spare thy own, Thy people; public reparation due Shall sure be thine, and to appease thy wrath For all the waste that, eating, drinking here We have committed, we will yield thee, each, Full twenty beeves, gold paying thee beside And 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 each His whole inheritance, and other sums Still 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 hearts All heard, whom thus Eurymachus address’d.  To your defence, my friends! for respite none Will he to his victorious hands afford, But, arm’d with bow and quiver, will dispatch Shafts from the door till he have slain us all. Therefore to arms—draw each his sword—oppose The tables to his shafts, and all at once Rush on him; that, dislodging him at least From portal and from threshold, we may give The city on all sides a loud alarm, So shall this archer soon have shot his last.  Thus saying, he drew his brazen faulchion keen Of double edge, and with a dreadful cry Sprang on him; but Ulysses with a shaft In that same moment through his bosom driv’n Transfix’d his liver, and down dropp’d his sword. He, staggering around his table, fell Convolv’d in agonies, and overturn’d Both food and wine; his forehead smote the floor; Woe fill’d his heart, and spurning with his heels His vacant seat, he shook it till he died. Then, with his faulchion drawn, Amphinomus Advanced to drive Ulysses from the door, And fierce was his assault; but, from behind, Telemachus between his shoulders fix’d A brazen lance, and urged it through his breast. Full on his front, with hideous sound, he fell. Leaving the weapon planted in his spine Back flew Telemachus, lest, had he stood Drawing it forth, some enemy, perchance, Should either pierce him with a sudden thrust Oblique, or hew him with a downright edge. Swift, therefore, to his father’s side he ran, Whom reaching, in wing’d accents thus he said.  My father! I will now bring thee a shield, An helmet, and two spears; I will enclose Myself in armour also, and will give Both to the herdsmen and Eumæus arms Expedient 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, Seeking the chamber where he had secured The armour. Thence he took four shields, eight spears, With four hair-crested helmets, charged with which He hasted to his father’s side again, And, arming first himself, furnish’d with arms His two attendants. Then, all clad alike In splendid brass, beside the dauntless Chief Ulysses, his auxiliars firm they stood. He, while a single arrow unemploy’d Lay at his foot, right-aiming, ever pierced Some suitor through, and heaps on heaps they fell. But when his arrows fail’d the royal Chief, His bow reclining at the portal’s side Against the palace-wall, he slung, himself, A four-fold buckler on his arm, he fix’d A casque whose crest wav’d awful o’er his brows On his illustrious head, and fill’d his gripe With two stout spears, well-headed both, with brass. There was a certain postern in the wall At the gate-side, the customary pass Into a narrow street, but barr’d secure. Ulysses bade his faithful swine-herd watch That egress, station’d near it, for it own’d One sole approach; then Agelaüs loud Exhorting all the suitors, thus exclaim’d.  Oh friends, will none, ascending to the door Of yonder postern, summon to our aid The populace, and spread a wide alarm? So shall this archer soon have shot his last.  To whom the keeper of the goats replied Melanthius. Agelaüs! Prince renown’d! That may not be. The postern and the gate Neighbour too near each other, and to force The narrow egress were a vain attempt; One valiant man might thence repulse us all. But come—myself will furnish you with arms Fetch’d from above; for there, as I suppose, (And not elsewhere) Ulysses and his son Have hidden them, and there they shall be found.  So spake Melanthius, and, ascending, sought Ulysses’ chambers through the winding stairs And gall’ries of the house. Twelve bucklers thence He took, as many spears, and helmets bright As many, shagg’d with hair, then swift return’d And gave them to his friends. Trembled the heart Of brave Ulysses, and his knees, at sight Of his opposers putting armour on, And shaking each his spear; arduous indeed Now seem’d his task, and in wing’d accents brief Thus to his son Telemachus he spake.  Either some woman of our train contrives Hard battle for us, furnishing with arms The suitors, or Melanthius arms them all.  Him answer’d then Telemachus discrete. Father, this fault was mine, and be it charged On none beside; I left the chamber-door Unbarr’d, which, more attentive than myself, Their spy perceived. But haste, Eumæus, shut The chamber-door, observing well, the while, If any women of our train have done This deed, or whether, as I more suspect, Melanthius, Dolius’ son, have giv’n them arms.  Thus mutual they conferr’d; meantime, again Melanthius to the chamber flew in quest Of 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, Slay him, or shall I drag him thence to thee, That he may suffer at thy hands the doom Due to his treasons perpetrated oft Against thee, here, even in thy own house?  Then answer thus Ulysses shrewd return’d. I, with Telemachus, will here immew The lordly suitors close, rage as they may. Ye two, the while, bind fast Melanthius’ hands And feet behind his back, then cast him bound Into the chamber, and (the door secured) Pass underneath his arms a double chain, And by a pillar’s top weigh him aloft Till he approach the rafters, there to endure, Living long time, the mis’ries he hath earned.  He spake; they prompt obey’d; together both They sought the chamber, whom the wretch within Heard not, exploring ev’ry nook for arms. They watching stood the door, from which, at length, Forth came Melanthius, bearing in one hand A casque, and in the other a broad shield Time-worn and chapp’d with drought, which in his youth Warlike Laertes had been wont to bear. Long time neglected it had lain, till age Had loosed the sutures of its bands. At once Both, springing on him, seized and drew him in Forcibly by his locks, then cast him down Prone on the pavement, trembling at his fate. With painful stricture of the cord his hands They bound and feet together at his back, As their illustrious master had enjoined, Then weigh’d him with a double chain aloft By a tall pillar to the palace-roof, And thus, deriding him, Eumæus spake.  Now, good Melanthius, on that fleecy bed Reclined, as well befits thee, thou wilt watch All night, nor when the golden dawn forsakes The ocean stream, will she escape thine eye, But thou wilt duly to the palace drive The fattest goats, a banquet for thy friends.  So saying, he left him in his dreadful sling. Then, arming both, and barring fast the door, They sought brave Laertiades again. And now, courageous at the portal stood Those four, by numbers in the interior house Opposed of adversaries fierce in arms, When Pallas, in the form and with the voice Approach’d of Mentor, whom Laertes’ son Beheld, and joyful at the sight, exclaim’d.  Help, Mentor! help—now recollect a friend And benefactor, born when thou wast born.  So he, not unsuspicious that he saw Pallas, the heroine of heav’n. Meantime The 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 not To oppose the suitors and to aid himself, For thus will we. Ulysses and his son Both slain, in vengeance of thy purpos’d deeds Against us, we will slay thee next, and thou With thy own head shalt satisfy the wrong. Your force thus quell’d in battle, all thy wealth Whether in house or field, mingled with his, We will confiscate, neither will we leave Or son of thine, or daughter in thy house Alive, nor shall thy virtuous consort more Within the walls of Ithaca be seen.  He ended, and his words with wrath inflamed Minerva’s heart the more; incensed, she turn’d Towards Ulysses, whom she thus reproved.  Thou neither own’st the courage nor the force, Ulysses, now, which nine whole years thou showd’st At Ilium, waging battle obstinate For high-born Helen, and in horrid fight Destroying multitudes, till thy advice At last lay’d Priam’s bulwark’d city low. Why, in possession of thy proper home And substance, mourn’st thou want of pow’r t’oppose The suitors? Stand beside me, mark my deeds, And thou shalt own Mentor Alcimides A valiant friend, and mindful of thy love.  She spake; nor made she victory as yet Entire 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 loud The suitors, whom Eurynomus also roused, Amphimedon, and Demoptolemus, And Polyctorides, Pisander named, And Polybus the brave; for noblest far Of all the suitor-chiefs who now survived And fought for life were these. The bow had quell’d And 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 vaunts Hath left, and at the portal now remain Themselves alone. Dismiss not therefore, all, Your spears together, but with six alone Assail them first; Jove willing, we shall pierce Ulysses, and subduing him, shall slay With ease the rest; their force is safely scorn’d.  He ceas’d; and, as he bade, six hurl’d the spear Together; but Minerva gave them all A devious flight; one struck a column, one The planks of the broad portal, and a third Flung right his ashen beam pond’rous with brass Against the wall. Then (ev’ry suitor’s spear Eluded) thus Ulysses gave the word—  Now friends! I counsel you that ye dismiss Your spears at them, who, not content with past Enormities, thirst also for our blood.  He said, and with unerring aim, all threw Their glitt’ring spears. Ulysses on the ground Stretch’d Demoptolemus; Euryades Fell by Telemachus; the swine-herd slew Ela]tus; and the keeper of the beeves Pisander; in one moment all alike Lay grinding with their teeth the dusty floor. Back flew the suitors to the farthest wall, On whom those valiant four advancing, each Recover’d, quick, his weapon from the dead. Then hurl’d the desp’rate suitors yet again Their glitt’ring spears, but Pallas gave to each A frustrate course; one struck a column, one The planks of the broad portal, and a third Flung full his ashen beam against the wall. Yet pierced Amphimedon the Prince’s wrist, But slightly, a skin-wound, and o’er his shield Ctesippus reach’d the shoulder of the good Eumæus, but his glancing weapon swift O’erflew the mark, and fell. And now the four, Ulysses, dauntless Hero, and his friends All hurl’d their spears together in return, Himself Ulysses, city-waster Chief, Wounded Eurydamas; Ulysses’ son Amphimedon; the swine-herd Polybus; And in his breast the keeper of the beeves Ctesippus, glorying over whom, he cried.  Oh son of Polytherses! whose delight Hath been to taunt and jeer, never again Boast foolishly, but to the Gods commit Thy tongue, since they are mightier far than thou. Take this—a compensation for thy pledge Of 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, Telemachus, enforcing his long beam Sheer through his bowels and his back, transpierced Leiocritus, he prostrate smote the floor. Then, Pallas from the lofty roof held forth Her host-confounding Ægis o’er their heads, With’ring their souls with fear. They through the hall Fled, scatter’d as an herd, which rapid-wing’d The gad-fly dissipates, infester fell Of beeves, when vernal suns shine hot and long. But, as when bow-beak’d vultures crooked-claw’d Stoop from the mountains on the smaller fowl; Terrified at the toils that spread the plain The flocks take wing, they, darting from above, Strike, seize, and slay, resistance or escape Is none, the fowler’s heart leaps with delight, So they, pursuing through the spacious hall The suitors, smote them on all sides, their heads Sounded beneath the sword, with hideous groans The palace rang, and the floor foamed with blood. Then flew Leiodes to Ulysses’ knees, Which clasping, in wing’d accents thus he cried.  I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect My suit, and spare me! Never have I word Injurious spoken, or injurious deed Attempted ’gainst the women of thy house, But others, so transgressing, oft forbad. Yet they abstain’d not, and a dreadful fate Due to their wickedness have, therefore, found. But I, their soothsayer alone, must fall, Though unoffending; such is the return By mortals made for benefits received!  To whom Ulysses, louring dark, replied. Is that thy boast? Hast thou indeed for these The seer’s high office fill’d? Then, doubtless, oft Thy pray’r hath been that distant far might prove The day delectable of my return, And that my consort might thy own become To bear thee children; wherefore thee I doom To a dire death which thou shalt not avoid.  So saying, he caught the faulchion from the floor Which Agelaüs had let fall, and smote Leiodes, while he kneel’d, athwart his neck So suddenly, that ere his tongue had ceased To plead for life, his head was in the dust. But Phemius, son of Terpius, bard divine, Who, through compulsion, with his song regaled The suitors, a like dreadful death escaped. Fast by the postern, harp in hand, he stood, Doubtful if, issuing, he should take his seat Beside the altar of Hercæan Jove, Where 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, between The beaker and an argent-studded throne He grounded his sweet lyre, and seizing fast The Hero’s knees, him, suppliant, thus address’d.  I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect My suit, and spare me. Thou shalt not escape Regret thyself hereafter, if thou slay Me, charmer of the woes of Gods and men. Self-taught am I, and treasure in my mind Themes 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 wish Far from thee! for thy own beloved son Can witness, that not drawn by choice, or driv’n By stress of want, resorting to thine house I have regaled these revellers so oft, But under force of mightier far than I.  So he; whose words soon as the sacred might Heard of Telemachus, approaching quick His father, thus, humane, he interposed.  Hold, harm not with the vengeful faulchion’s edge This blameless man; and we will also spare Medon the herald, who hath ever been A 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.  He spake, whom Medon hearing (for he lay Beneath a throne, and in a new-stript hide Enfolded, trembling with the dread of death) Sprang from his hiding-place, and casting off The skin, flew to Telemachus, embraced His knees, and in wing’d accents thus exclaim’d.  Prince! I am here—oh, pity me! repress Thine own, and pacify thy father’s wrath, That he destroy not me, through fierce revenge Of their iniquities who have consumed His wealth, and, in their folly scorn’d his son.  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied, Smiling complacent. Fear not; my own son Hath pleaded for thee. Therefore (taught thyself That truth) teach others the superior worth Of benefits with injuries compared. But go ye forth, thou and the sacred bard, That ye may sit distant in yonder court From all this carnage, while I give command, Myself, concerning it, to those within.  He ceas’d; they going forth, took each his seat Beside Jove’s altar, but with careful looks Suspicious, dreading without cease the sword. Meantime Ulysses search’d his hall, in quest Of living foes, if any still survived Unpunish’d; but he found them all alike Welt’ring in dust and blood; num’rous they lay Like fishes when they strew the sinuous shore Of Ocean, from the grey gulph drawn aground In nets of many a mesh; they on the sands Lie spread, athirst for the salt wave, till hot The gazing sun dries all their life away; So lay the suitors heap’d, and thus at length The prudent Chief gave order to his son.  Telemachus! bid Euryclea come Quickly, the nurse, to whom I would impart The purpose which now occupies me most.  He said; obedient to his sire, the Prince Smote on the door, and summon’d loud the nurse.  Arise thou ancient governess of all Our female menials, and come forth; attend My 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, found Ere long Ulysses amid all the slain, With blood defiled and dust; dread he appear’d As from the pastur’d ox newly-devoured The lion stalking back; his ample chest With gory drops and his broad cheeks are hung, Tremendous spectacle! such seem’d the Chief, Blood-stain’d all over. She, the carnage spread On all sides seeing, and the pools of blood, Felt impulse forcible to publish loud That wond’rous triumph; but her Lord repress’d The 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 voice Of loud thanksgiving over slaughter’d men. Their own atrocious deeds and the Gods’ will Have slain all these; for whether noble guest Arrived or base, they scoff’d at all alike, And for their wickedness have, therefore, died. But say; of my domestic women, who Have scorn’d me, and whom find’st thou innocent?  To whom good Euryclea thus replied. My son! I will declare the truth; thou keep’st Female domestics fifty in thy house, Whom we have made intelligent to comb The fleece, and to perform whatever task. Of these, twice six have overpass’d the bounds Of modesty, respecting neither me, Nor yet the Queen; and thy own son, adult So lately, no permission had from her To regulate the women of her train. But I am gone, I fly with what hath pass’d To the Queen’s ear, who nought suspects, so sound She sleeps, by some divinity composed.  Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise returned. Hush, and disturb her not. Go. Summon first Those wantons, who have long deserved to die.  He ceas’d; then issued forth the ancient dame To 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; command Those women also to your help; then cleanse With bibulous sponges and with water all The seats and tables; when ye shall have thus Set all in order, lead those women forth, And in the centre of the spacious court, Between the scull’ry and the outer-wall Smite them with your broad faulchions till they lose In death the mem’ry of their secret loves Indulged with wretches lawless as themselves.  He ended, and the damsels came at once All forth, lamenting, and with tepid tears Show’ring the ground; with mutual labour, first, Bearing the bodies forth into the court, They lodged them in the portico; meantime Ulysses, stern, enjoin’d them haste, and, urged By sad necessity, they bore all out. With sponges and with water, next, they cleansed The thrones and tables, while Telemachus Beesom’d the floor, Eumæus in that work Aiding 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 between The scull’ry and the outer-wall in close Durance, from which no pris’ner could escape, And thus Telemachus discrete began.  An honourable death is not for these By my advice, who have so often heap’d Reproach on mine and on my mother’s head, And held lewd commerce with the suitor-train.  He said, and noosing a strong galley-rope To an huge column, led the cord around The spacious dome, suspended so aloft That 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 net Within, ill rest, entangled, there they find, So they, suspended by the neck, expired All in one line together. Death abhorr’d! With restless feet awhile they beat the air, Then ceas’d. And now through vestibule and hall They led Melanthius forth. With ruthless steel They pared away his ears and nose, pluck’d forth His 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 sought Again 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 bid Penelope with her attendants down, And summon all the women of her train.  But Euryclea, thus, his nurse, replied. My son! thou hast well said; yet will I first Serve thee with vest and mantle. Stand not here In thy own palace cloath’d with tatters foul And 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 nurse Longer delay’d, but sulphur brought and fire, When he with purifying steams, himself, Visited ev’ry part, the banquet-room, The vestibule, the court. Ranging meantime His house magnificent, the matron call’d The women to attend their Lord in haste, And they attended, bearing each a torch. Then gather’d they around him all, sincere Welcoming his return; with close embrace Enfolding him, each kiss’d his brows, and each His shoulders, and his hands lock’d fast in hers. He, irresistible the impulse felt To sigh and weep, well recognizing all.
* ↑ If the ancients found it difficult to ascertain clearly the situation of this ορτοθυρη, 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.
* ↑ At which Ulysses stood.
* ↑ The deviation of three only is described, which must be understood, therefore, as instances of the ill success of all.
* ↑ In this simile we seem to have a curious account of the ancient manner of fowling. The nets (for νεφεα is 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. See Eustathius Dacier.
* ↑ So called because he was worshipped within the Ἐρκος or wall that surrounded the court.