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

ARGUMENT
OF THE
NINETEENTH BOOK.
Ulysses and Telemachus remove the arms from the hall to an upper-chamber. The Hero then confers with Penelope, to whom he gives a fictitious narrative of his adventures. Euryclea, while bathing Ulysses, discovers him by a scar on his knee, but he prevents her communication of that discovery to Penelope.
BOOK XIX.
They went, but left the noble Chief behind In his own house, contriving by the aid Of Pallas, the destruction of them all, And thus, in accents wing'd, again he said. My son! we must remove and safe dispose 5 All these my well-forged implements of war; And should the suitors, missing them, enquire Where are they? thou shalt answer smoothly thus— I have convey'd them from the reach of smoke, For they appear no more the same which erst 10 Ulysses, going hence to Ilium, left, So smirch'd and sullied by the breath of fire.
This weightier reason (thou shalt also say) Some God suggested to me,—lest, inflamed With wine, ye wound each other in your brawls, 15 Shaming both feast and courtship; for the view Itself of arms incites to their abuse. He ceased, and, in obedience to his will, Calling the ancient Euryclea forth, His nurse, Telemachus enjoin'd her thus. 20 Go—shut the women in; make fast the doors Of their apartment, while I safe dispose Elsewhere, my father's implements of war, Which, during his long absence, here have stood Till smoke hath sullied them. For I have been 25 An infant hitherto, but, wiser grown, Would now remove them from the breath of fire. Then thus the gentle matron in return. Yes truly—and I wish that now, at length, Thou would'st assert the privilege of thy years, 30 My son, thyself assuming charge of all, Both house and stores; but who shall bear the light? Since they, it seems, who would, are all forbidden. To whom Telemachus discrete replied. This guest; for no man, from my table fed, 35 Come whence he may; shall be an idler here. He ended, nor his words flew wing'd away, But Euryclea bolted every door. Then, starting to the task, Ulysses caught, And his illustrious son, the weapons thence, 40
Helmet, and bossy shield, and pointed spear, While Pallas from a golden lamp illumed The dusky way before them. At that sight Alarm'd, the Prince his father thus address'd. Whence—whence is this, my father? I behold 45 A prodigy! the walls of the whole house, The arches, fir-tree beams, and pillars tall Shine in my view, as with the blaze of fire! Some Pow'r celestial, doubtless, is within. To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. 50 Soft! ask no questions. Give no vent to thought, Such is the custom of the Pow'rs divine. Hence, thou, to bed. I stay, that I may yet Both in thy mother and her maidens move More curiosity; yes—she with tears 55 Shall question me of all that I have seen. He ended, and the Prince, at his command, Guided by flaming torches, sought the couch Where he was wont to sleep, and there he slept On that night also, waiting the approach 60 Of sacred dawn. Thus was Ulysses left Alone, and planning sat in solitude, By Pallas' aid, the slaughter of his foes. At length, Diana-like, or like herself, All golden Venus, (her apartment left) 65 Enter'd Penelope. Beside the hearth Her women planted her accustom'd seat With silver wreathed and ivory. That throne
Icmalius made, artist renown'd, and join'd A footstool to its splendid frame beneath, 70 Which ever with an ample fleece they spread. There sat discrete Penelope; then came Her beautiful attendants from within, Who cleared the litter'd bread, the board, and cups From which the insolent companions drank. 75 They also raked the embers from the hearths Now dim, and with fresh billets piled them high, Both for illumination and for warmth. Then yet again Melantho with rude speech Opprobrious, thus, assail'd Ulysses' ear. 80 Guest—wilt thou trouble us throughout the night Ranging the house? and linger'st thou a spy Watching the women? Hence—get thee abroad Glad of such fare as thou hast found, or soon With torches beaten we will thrust thee forth. 85 To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied. Petulant woman! wherefore thus incensed Inveigh'st thou against me? is it because I am not sleek? because my garb is mean? Because I beg? thanks to necessity— 90 I would not else. But such as I appear, Such all who beg and all who wander are. I also lived the happy owner once Of such a stately mansion, and have giv'n To num'rous wand'rers, whencesoe'er they came, 95 All that they needed; I was also served
By many, and enjoy'd all that denotes The envied owner opulent and blest. But Jove (for so it pleas'd him) hath reduced My all to nothing. Therefore well beware 100 Thou also, mistress, lest a day arrive When all these charms by which thou shin'st among Thy sister-menials, fade; fear, too, lest her Thou should'st perchance irritate, whom thou serv'st, And lest Ulysses come, of whose return 105 Hope yet survives; but even though the Chief Have perish'd, as ye think, and comes no more, Consider yet his son, how bright the gifts Shine of Apollo in the illustrious Prince Telemachus; no woman, unobserved 110 By him, can now commit a trespass here; His days of heedless infancy are past. He ended, whom Penelope discrete O'erhearing, her attendant sharp rebuked. Shameless, audacious woman! known to me 115 Is thy great wickedness, which with thy life Thou shalt atone; for thou wast well aware, (Hearing it from myself) that I design'd To ask this stranger of my absent Lord, For whose dear sake I never cease to mourn. 120 Then to her household's governess she said. Bring now a seat, and spread it with a fleece, Eurynome! that, undisturb'd, the guest May hear and answer all that I shall ask.
She ended. Then the matron brought in haste 125 A polish'd seat, and spread it with a fleece, On which the toil-accustom'd Hero sat, And thus the chaste Penelope began. Stranger! my first enquiry shall be this— Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom? 130 Then answer thus Ulysses, wise, return'd. O Queen! uncensurable by the lips Of mortal man! thy glory climbs the skies Unrivall'd, like the praise of some great King Who o'er a num'rous people and renown'd 135 Presiding like a Deity, maintains Justice and truth. The earth, under his sway, Her produce yields abundantly; the trees Fruit-laden bend; the lusty flocks bring forth; The Ocean teems with finny swarms beneath 140 His just controul, and all the land is blest. Me therefore, question of what else thou wilt In thy own palace, but forbear to ask From whom I sprang, and of my native land, Lest thou, reminding me of those sad themes, 145 Augment my woes; for I have much endured; Nor were it seemly, in another's house, To pass the hours in sorrow and in tears, Wearisome when indulg'd with no regard To time or place; thy train (perchance thyself) 150 Would blame me, and I should reproach incur
As one tear-deluged through excess of wine. Him answer'd then Penelope discrete. The immortal Gods, O stranger, then destroy'd My form, my grace, my beauty, when the Greeks 155 Whom my Ulysses follow'd, sail'd to Troy. Could he, returning, my domestic charge Himself intend, far better would my fame Be so secured, and wider far diffused. But I am wretched now, such storms of woe 160 The Gods have sent me; for as many Chiefs As hold dominion in the neighbour isles Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown'd Zacynthus; others, also, rulers here In pleasant Ithaca, me, loth to wed, 165 Woo ceaseless, and my household stores consume. I therefore, neither guest nor suppliant heed, Nor public herald more, but with regret Of my Ulysses wear my soul away. They, meantime, press my nuptials, which by art 170 I still procrastinate. Some God the thought Suggested to me, to commence a robe Of amplest measure and of subtlest woof, Laborious task; which done, I thus address'd them. Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief 175 Ulysses is no more, enforce not now My nuptials; wait till I shall finish first A fun'ral robe (lest all my threads be marr'd) Which for the ancient Hero I prepare
Laertes, looking for the mournful hour 180 When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest. Else, I the censure dread of all my sex, Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud. Such was my speech; they, unsuspicious all, With my request complied. Thenceforth, all day 185 I wove the ample web, and, by the aid Of torches, ravell'd it again at night. Three years by artifice I thus their suit Eluded safe; but when the fourth arrived, And the same season after many moons 190 And fleeting days return'd, passing my train Who had neglected to release the dogs, They came, surprized and reprimanded me. Thus, through necessity, not choice, at last I have perform'd it, in my own despight. 195 But no escape from marriage now remains, Nor other subterfuge for me; meantime My parents urge my nuptials, and my son (Of age to note it) with disgust observes His wealth consumed; for he is now become 200 Adult, and abler than myself to rule The house, a Prince distinguish'd by the Gods, Yet, stranger, after all, speak thy descent; Say whence thou art; for not of fabulous birth Art thou, nor from the oak, nor from the rock. 205 Her answer'd then Ulysses, ever-wise. O spouse revered of Laertiades!
Resolv'st thou still to learn from whom I sprang? Learn then; but know that thou shalt much augment My present grief, natural to a man 210 Who hath, like me, long exiled from his home Through various cities of the sons of men Wander'd remote, and num'rous woes endured. Yet, though it pain me, I will tell thee all. There is a land amid the sable flood 215 Call'd Crete; fair, fruitful, circled by the sea. Num'rous are her inhabitants, a race Not to be summ'd, and ninety towns she boasts. Diverse their language is; Achaians some, And some indigenous are; Cydonians there, 220 Crest-shaking Dorians, and Pelasgians dwell. One city in extent the rest exceeds, Cnossus; the city in which Minos reign'd, Who, ever at a nine years' close, conferr'd With Jove himself; from him my father sprang 225 The brave Deucalion; for Deucalion's sons Were two, myself and King Idomeneus. To Ilium he, on board his gallant barks, Follow'd the Atridæ. I, the youngest-born, By my illustrious name, Æthon, am known, 230 But he ranks foremost both in worth and years. There I beheld Ulysses, and within My walls receiv'd him; for a violent wind Had driv'n him from Malea (while he sought The shores of Troy) to Crete. The storm his barks 235
Bore into the Amnisus, for the cave Of Ilythia known, a dang'rous port, And which with difficulty he attain'd. He, landing, instant to the city went, Seeking Idomeneus; his friend of old, 240 As he affirm'd, and one whom much he lov'd. But he was far remote, ten days advanced, Perhaps eleven, on his course to Troy. Him, therefore, I conducted to my home, Where hospitably, and with kindest care 245 I entertain'd him, (for I wanted nought) And for himself procured and for his band,— By public contribution, corn, and wine, And beeves for food, that all might be sufficed. Twelve days his noble Greecians there abode, 250 Port-lock'd by Boreas blowing with a force Resistless even on the land, some God So roused his fury; but the thirteenth day The wind all fell, and they embark'd again. With many a fiction specious, as he sat, 255 He thus her ear amused; she at the sound Melting, with fluent tears her cheeks bedew'd; And as the snow by Zephyrus diffused, Melts on the mountain tops, when Eurus breathes, And fills the channels of the running streams, 260 So melted she, and down her lovely cheeks Pour'd fast the tears, him mourning as remote Who sat beside her. Soft compassion touch'd
Ulysses of his consort's silent woe; His eyes as they had been of steel or horn, 265 Moved not, yet artful, he suppress'd his tears, And she, at length with overflowing grief Satiate, replied, and thus enquired again. Now, stranger, I shall prove thee, as I judge, If thou, indeed, hast entertain'd in Crete 270 My spouse and his brave followers, as thou say'st. Describe his raiment and himself; his own Appearance, and the appearance of his friends. Then her Ulysses answer'd, ever-wise. Hard is the task, O Queen! (so long a time 275 Hath since elaps'd) to tell thee. Twenty years Have pass'd since he forsook my native isle, Yet, from my best remembrance, I will give A likeness of him, such as now I may. A double cloak, thick-piled, Mœonian dyed, 280 The noble Chief had on; two fast'nings held The golden clasp, and it display'd in front A well-wrought pattern with much art design'd. An hound between his fore-feet holding fast A dappled fawn, gaped eager on his prey. 285 All wonder'd, seeing, how in lifeless gold Express'd, the dog with open mouth her throat Attempted still, and how the fawn with hoofs Thrust trembling forward, struggled to escape. That glorious mantle much I noticed, soft 290 To touch, as the dried garlick's glossy film;
Such was the smoothness of it, and it shone Sun-bright; full many a maiden, trust me, view'd The splendid texture with admiring eyes. But mark me now; deep treasure in thy mind 295 This word. I know not if Ulysses wore That cloak at home, or whether of his train Some warrior gave it to him on his way, Or else some host of his; for many loved Ulysses, and with him might few compare. 300 I gave to him, myself, a brazen sword, A purple cloak magnificent, and vest Of royal length, and when he sought his bark, With princely pomp dismiss'd him from the shore. An herald also waited on the Chief, 305 Somewhat his Senior; him I next describe. His back was bunch'd, his visage swarthy, curl'd His poll, and he was named Eurybates; A man whom most of all his followers far Ulysses honour'd, for their minds were one. 310 He ceased; she recognising all the proofs Distinctly by Ulysses named, was moved Still more to weep, till with o'erflowing grief Satiate, at length she answer'd him again. Henceforth, O stranger, thou who hadst before 315 My pity, shalt my rev'rence share and love, I folded for him with these hands the cloak Which thou describ'st, produced it when he went, And gave it to him; I that splendid clasp
Attach'd to it myself, more to adorn 320 My honour'd Lord, whom to his native land Return'd secure I shall receive no more. In such an evil hour Ulysses went To that bad city never to be named. To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. 325 Consort revered of Laertiades! No longer let anxiety impair Thy beauteous form, nor any grief consume Thy spirits more for thy Ulysses' sake. And yet I blame thee not; a wife deprived 330 Of her first mate to whom she had produced Fair fruit of mutual love, would mourn his loss, Although he were inferior far to thine, Whom fame affirms the semblance of the Gods. But cease to mourn. Hear me. I will relate 335 A faithful tale, nor will from thee withhold Such tidings of Ulysses living still, And of his safe return, as I have heard Lately, in yon neighb'ring opulent land Of the Thesprotians. He returns enrich'd 340 With many precious stores from those obtain'd Whom he hath visited; but he hath lost, Departing from Thrinacia's isle, his bark And all his lov'd companions in the Deep, For Jove was adverse to him, and the Sun, 345 Whose beeves his followers slew. They perish'd all Amid the billowy flood; but Him, the keel
Bestriding of his bark, the waves at length Cast forth on the Phæacian's land, a race Allied to heav'n, who rev'renced like a God 350 Thy husband, honour'd him with num'rous gifts, And willing were to have convey'd him home. Ulysses, therefore, had attained long since His native shore, but that he deem'd it best To travel far, that he might still amass 355 More wealth; so much Ulysses all mankind Excels in policy, and hath no peer. This information from Thesprotia's King I gain'd, from Phidon; to myself he swore, Libation off'ring under his own roof, 360 That both the bark was launch'd, and the stout crew Prepared, that should conduct him to his home. But me he first dismiss'd; for, as it chanced, A ship lay there of the Thesprotians, bound To corn-enrich'd Dulichium. All the wealth 365 He shew'd me by the Chief amass'd, a store To feed the house of yet another Prince To the tenth generation; so immense His treasures were within that palace lodg'd. Himself he said was to Dodona gone, 370 Counsel to ask from the oracular oaks Sublime of Jove, how safest he might seek, After long exile thence, his native land, If openly were best, or in disguise. Thus, therefore, he is safe, and at his home 375
Well-nigh arrived, nor shall his country long Want him. I swear it with a solemn oath. First Jove be witness, King and Lord of all! Next these domestic Gods of the renown'd Ulysses, in whose royal house I sit, 380 That thou shalt see my saying all fulfill'd. Ulysses shall this self-same year return, This self-same month, ere yet the next begin. Him answer'd then Penelope discrete. Grant heav'n, my guest, that this good word of thine 385 Fail not! then, soon shalt thou such bounty share And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight, Whoe'er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest. But ah! my soul forebodes how it will prove; Neither Ulysses will return, nor thou 390 Receive safe conduct hence; for we have here None, such as once Ulysses was, to rule His household with authority, and to send With honourable convoy to his home The worthy guest, or to regale him here. 395 Give him the bath, my maidens; spread his couch With linen soft, with fleecygaberdines And rugs of splendid hue, that he may lie Waiting, well-warm'd, the golden morn's return. Attend him also at the peep of day 400 With bath and unction, that, his seat resumed
Here in the palace, he may be prepared For breakfast with Telemachus; and woe To him who shall presume to incommode Or cause him pain; that man shall be cashier'd 405 Hence instant, burn his anger as it may. For how, my honour'd inmate! shalt thou learn That I in wisdom œconomic aught Pass other women, if unbathed, unoiled, Ill-clad, thou sojourn here? man's life is short, 410 Whoso is cruel, and to cruel arts Addict, on him all men, while yet he lives, Call plagues and curses down, and after death Scorn and proverbial mock'ries hunt his name. But men, humane themselves, and giv'n by choice 415 To offices humane, from land to land Are rumour'd honourably by their guests, And ev'ry tongue is busy in their praise. Her answer'd then, Ulysses, ever-wise. Consort revered of Laertiades! 420 Warm gaberdines and rugs of splendid hue To me have odious been, since first the sight Of Crete's snow-mantled mountain-tops I lost, Sweeping the billows with extended oars. No; I will pass, as I am wont to pass 425 The sleepless night; for on a sordid couch Outstretch'd, full many a night have I reposed Till golden-charioted Aurora dawn'd. Nor me the foot-bath pleases more; my foot
Shall none of all thy ministring maidens touch, 430 Unless there be some ancient matron grave Among them, who hath pangs of heart endured Num'rous, and keen as I have felt myself; Her I refuse not. She may touch my feet. Him answer'd then prudent Penelope. 435 Dear guest! for of all trav'llers here arrived From distant regions, I have none received Discrete as thou, or whom I more have lov'd, So just thy matter is, and with such grace Express'd. I have an ancient maiden grave, 440 The nurse who at my hapless husband's birth Receiv'd him in her arms, and with kind care Maternal rear'd him; she shall wash thy feet, Although decrepid. Euryclea, rise! Wash one coeval with thy Lord; for such 445 The feet and hands, it may be, are become Of my Ulysses now; since man beset With sorrow once, soon wrinkled grows and old. She said, then Euryclea with both hands Cov'ring her face, in tepid tears profuse 450 Dissolved, and thus in mournful strains began. Alas! my son, trouble for thy dear sake Distracts me. Jove surely of all mankind Thee hated most, though ever in thy heart Devoutly giv'n; for never mortal man 455 So many thighs of fatted victims burn'd, And chosen hecatombs produced as thou
To Jove the Thund'rer, him entreating still That he would grant thee a serene old age, And to instruct, thyself, thy glorious son. 460 Yet thus the God requites thee, cutting off All hope of thy return—oh ancient sir! Him too, perchance, where'er he sits a guest Beneath some foreign roof, the women taunt, As all these shameless ones have taunted thee, 465 Fearing whose mock'ry thou forbidd'st their hands This office, which Icarius' daughter wise To me enjoins, and which I, glad perform. Yes, I will wash thy feet; both for her sake And for thy own,—for sight of thee hath raised 470 A tempest in my mind. Hear now the cause! Full many a guest forlorn we entertain, But never any have I seen, whose size, The fashion of whose foot and pitch of voice, Such likeness of Ulysses show'd, as thine. 475 To whom Ulysses, ever-shrewd, replied. Such close similitude, O ancient dame! As thou observ'st between thy Lord and me, All, who have seen us both, have ever found. He said; then taking the resplendent vase 480 Allotted always to that use, she first Infused cold water largely, then, the warm. Ulysses (for beside the hearth he sat) Turn'd quick his face into the shade, alarm'd Lest, handling him, she should at once remark 485
His scar, and all his stratagem unveil. She then, approaching, minister'd the bath To her own King, and at first touch discern'd That token, by a bright-tusk'd boar of old Impress'd, what time he to Parnassus went 490 To visit there Autolycus and his sons, His mother's noble sire, who all mankind Infurtive arts and fraudful oaths excell'd. For such endowments he by gift receiv'd From Hermes' self, to whom the thighs of kids 495 He offer'd and of lambs, and, in return, The watchful Hermes never left his side. Autolycus arriving in the isle Of pleasant Ithaca, the new-born son Of his own daughter found, whom on his knees 500 At close of supper Euryclea placed, And thus the royal visitant address'd. Thyself, Autolycus! devise a name For thy own daughter's son, by num'rous pray'rs Of thine and fervent, from the Gods obtained. 500 Then answer thus Autolycus return'd. My daughter and my daughter's spouse! the name Which I shall give your boy, that let him bear. Since after provocation and offence
To numbers giv'n of either sex, I come, 510 Call himUlysses; and when, grown mature, He shall Parnassus visit, the abode Magnificent in which his mother dwelt, And where my treasures lie, from my own stores I will enrich and send him joyful home. 515 Ulysses, therefore, that he might obtain Those princely gifts, went thither. Him arrived, With right-hand gratulation and with words Of welcome kind, Autolycus received, Nor less his offspring; but the mother most 520 Of his own mother clung around his neck, Amphithea; she with many a fervent kiss His forehead press'd, and his bright-beaming eyes. Then bade Autolycus his noble sons Set forth a banquet. They, at his command, 525 Led in a fatted ox of the fifth year, Which slaying first, they spread him carved abroad, Then scored his flesh, transfixed it with the spits, And roasting all with culinary skill Exact, gave each his portion. Thus they sat 530 Feasting all day, and till the sun declined, But when the sun declined, and darkness fell, Each sought his couch, and took the gift of sleep. Then, soon as day-spring's daughter rosy-palm'd Aurora look'd abroad, forth went the hounds, 535
And, with the hounds Ulysses, and the youths, Sons of Autolycus, to chase the boar. Arrived at the Parnassian mount, they climb'd His bushy sides, and to his airy heights Ere long attain'd. It was the pleasant hour When from the gently-swelling flood profound The sun, emerging, first smote on the fields. The hunters reach'd the valley; foremost ran, Questing, the hounds; behind them, swift, the sons Came of Autolycus, with whom advanced The illustrious Prince Ulysses, pressing close The hounds, and brandishing his massy spear. There, hid in thickest shades, lay an huge boar. That covert neither rough winds blowing moist Could penetrate, nor could the noon-day sun Smite through it, or fast-falling show'rs pervade, So thick it was, and underneath the ground With litter of dry foliage strew'd profuse. Hunters and dogs approaching him, his ear The sound of feet perceived; upridging high His bristly back and glaring fire, he sprang Forth from the shrubs, and in defiance stood Near and right opposite. Ulysses, first, Rush'd on him, elevating his long spear Ardent to wound him; but, preventing quick His foe, the boar gash'd him above the knee. Much flesh, assailing him oblique, he tore With his rude tusk, but to the Hero's bone
Pierced not; Ulysses his right shoulder reach'd; And with a deadly thrust impell'd the point Of his bright spear through him and far beyond. Loud yell'd the boar, sank in the dust, and died. Around Ulysses, then, the busy sons Throng'd of Autolycus; expert they braced The wound of the illustrious hunter bold, With incantation staunched the sable blood, And sought in haste their father's house again, Whence, heal'd and gratified with splendid gifts They sent him soon rejoicing to his home, Themselves rejoicing also. Glad their son His parents saw again, and of the scar Enquired, where giv'n, and how? He told them all, How to Parnassus with his friends he went, Sons of Autolycus to hunt, and how A boar had gash'd him with his iv'ry tusk. That scar, while chafing him with open palms, The matron knew; she left his foot to fall; Down dropp'd his leg into the vase; the brass Rang, and o'ertilted by the sudden shock, Poured forth the water, flooding wide the floor. Her spirit joy at once and sorrow seized; Tears fill'd her eyes; her intercepted voice Died in her throat; but to Ulysses' beard Her hand advancing, thus, at length, she spake. Thou art himself, Ulysses. Oh my son! Dear to me, and my master as thou art,
I knew thee not, till I had touch'd the scar. She said, and to Penelope her eyes Directed, all impatient to declare Her own Ulysses even then at home. But she, nor eye nor ear for aught that pass'd Had then, her fixt attention so entire Minerva had engaged. Then, darting forth His arms, the Hero with his right-hand close Compress'd her throat, and nearer to himself Drawing her with his left, thus caution'd her. Why would'st thou ruin me? Thou gav'st me milk Thyself from thy own breast. See me return'd After long suff'rings, in the twentieth year, To my own land. But since (some God the thought Suggesting to thee) thou hast learn'd the truth, Silence! lest others learn it from thy lips. For this I say, nor shall the threat be vain; If God vouchsafe to me to overcome The haughty suitors, when I shall inflict Death on the other women of my house, Although my nurse, thyself shalt also die. Him answer'd Euryclea then, discrete. My son! oh how could so severe a word Escape thy lips? my fortitude of mind Thou know'st, and even now shalt prove me firm As iron, secret as the stubborn rock. But hear and mark me well. Should'st thou prevail, Assisted by a Pow'r divine, to slay
The haughty suitors, I will then, myself, Give thee to know of all the female train Who have dishonour'd thee, and who respect. To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. My nurse, it were superfluous; spare thy tongue That needless task. I can distinguish well Myself, between them, and shall know them all; But hold thy peace. Hush! leave it with the Gods. So he; then went the ancient matron forth, That she might serve him with a second bath, For the whole first was spilt. Thus, laved at length, And smooth'd with oil, Ulysses nearer pull'd His seat toward the glowing hearth to enjoy More warmth, and drew his tatters o'er the scar. Then, prudent, thus Penelope began. One question, stranger, I shall yet propound, Though brief, for soon the hour of soft repose Grateful to all, and even to the sad Whom gentle sleep forsakes not, will arrive. But heav'n to me immeasurable woe Assigns,—whose sole delight is to consume My days in sighs, while here retired I sit, Watching my maidens' labours and my own; But (night return'd, and all to bed retired) I press mine also, yet with deep regret And anguish lacerated, even there. As when at spring's first entrance, her sweet song The azure-crested nightingale renews,
Daughter of Pandarus; within the grove's Thick foliage perch'd, she pours her echoing voice Now deep, now clear, still varying the strain With which she mourns her Itylus, her son By royal Zethus, whom she,erring, slew, So also I, by soul-distressing doubts Toss'd ever, muse if I shall here remain A faithful guardian of my son's affairs, My husband's bed respecting, and not less My own fair fame, or whether I shall him Of all my suitors follow to his home Who noblest seems, and offers richest dow'r. My son while he was infant yet, and own'd An infant's mind, could never give consent That I should wed and leave him; but at length, Since he hath reached the stature of a man, He wishes my departure hence, the waste Viewing indignant by the suitors made. But I have dream'd. Hear, and expound my dream. My geese are twenty, which within my walls I feed with sodden wheat; they serve to amuse Sometimes my sorrow. From the mountains came An eagle, huge, hook-beak'd, brake all their necks, And slew them; scatter'd on the palace-floor They lay, and he soar'd swift into the skies.
Dream only as it was, I wept aloud, Till all my maidens, gather'd by my voice, Arriving, found me weeping still, and still Complaining, that the eagle had at once Slain all my geese. But, to the palace-roof Stooping again, he sat, and with a voice Of human sound, forbad my tears, and said— Courage! O daughter of the far-renown'd Icarius! no vain dream thou hast beheld, But, in thy sleep, a truth. The slaughter'd geese Denote thy suitors. I who have appear'd An eagle in thy sight, am yet indeed Thy husband, who have now, at last, return'd, Death, horrid death designing for them all. He said; then waking at the voice, I cast An anxious look around, and saw my geese Beside their tray, all feeding as before. Her then Ulysses answer'd, ever-wise. O Queen! it is not possible to miss Thy dream's plain import, since Ulysses' self Hath told thee the event; thy suitors all Must perish; not one suitor shall escape. To whom Penelope discrete replied. Dreams are inexplicable, O my guest! And oft-times mere delusions that receive No just accomplishment. There are twogates
Through which the fleeting phantoms pass; of horn Is one, and one of ivory. Such dreams As through the thin-leaf'd iv'ry portal come Sooth, but perform not, utt'ring empty sounds; But such as through the polish'd horn escape, If, haply seen by any mortal eye, Prove faithful witnesses, and are fulfill'd. But through those gates my wond'rous dream, I think, Came not; thrice welcome were it else to me And to my son. Now mark my words; attend. This is the hated morn that from the house Removes me of Ulysses. I shall fix, This day, the rings for trial to them all Of archership; Ulysses' custom was To plant twelvespikes, all regular arranged Like galley-props, and crested with a ring, Then standing far remote, true in his aim He with his whizzing shaft would thrid them all. This is the contest in which now I mean To prove the suitors; him, who with most ease Shall bend the bow, and shoot through all the rings, I follow, this dear mansion of my youth Leaving, so fair, so fill'd with ev'ry good, Though still to love it even in my dreams.
Her answer'd then Ulysses, ever-wise. Consort revered of Laertiades! Postpone not this contention, but appoint 725 Forthwith the trial; for Ulysses here Will sure arrive, ere they, (his polish'd bow Long tamp'ring) shall prevail to stretch the nerve, And speed the arrow through the iron rings. To whom Penelope replied discrete. 730 Would'st thou with thy sweet converse, O my guest! Here sooth me still, sleep ne'er should influence These eyes the while; but always to resist Sleep's pow'r is not for man, to whom the Gods Each circumstance of his condition here 735 Fix universally. Myself will seek My own apartment at the palace-top, And there will lay me down on my sad couch, For such it hath been, and with tears of mine Ceaseless bedew'd, e'er since Ulysses went 740 To that bad city, never to be named. There will I sleep; but sleep thou here below, Either, thyself, preparing on the ground Thy couch, or on a couch by these prepared. So saying, she to her splendid chamber thence 745 Retired, not sole, but by her female train Attended; there arrived, she wept her spouse, Her lov'd Ulysses, till Minerva dropp'd The balm of slumber on her weary lids.
* ↑ A gaberdine is a shaggy cloak of coarse but warm materials. Such always make part of Homer’s bed-furniture.
* ↑ Homer’s morals seem to allow to a good man dissimulation, and even an ambiguous oath, should they be necessary to save him from a villain. Thus in Book XX. Telemachus swears by Zeus, that he does not hinder his mother from marrying whom she pleases of the wooers, though at the same time he is plotting their destruction with his father. F.
* ↑ In the Greek ὈΔΥΣΣΕΥΣ from the verb ὀδυσσω—Irascor, I am angry.
* ↑ She intended to slay the son of her husband’s brother Amphion, incited to it by the envy of his wife, who had six children, while herself had only two, but through mistake she slew her own son Itylus, and for her punishment was transformed by Jupiter into a nightingale.
* ↑ The difference of the two substances may perhaps serve to account for the preference given in this case to the gate of horn; horn being transparent, and as such emblematical of truth, while ivory, from its whiteness, promises light, but is, in fact, opaque. F.
* ↑ The translation here is somewhat pleonastic for the sake of perspicuity; the original is clear in itself, but not to us who have no such practice. Twelve stakes were fixt in the earth, each having a ring at the top; the order in which they stood was so exact, that an arrow sent with an even hand through the first ring, would pass them all.