Thou canst not soak so through my faculties,
For I did never either honour thee
Or give thee love, to bring these tales to me,
But in my fear of hospitable Jove
Thou didst to this pass my affections move.’
‘You stand exceeding much incredulous,’
Replied Ulysses, ‘to have witness’d thus
My word and oath, yet yield no trust at all.
But make we now a covenant here, and call
The dreadful gods to witness, that take seat
In large Olympus: if your king’s retreat
Prove made, ev’n hither, you shall furnish me
With cloak and coat, and make my passage free
For lov’d Dulichius; if, as fits my vow,
Your king return not, let your servants throw
My old limbs headlong from some rock most high,
That other poor men may take fear to lie.’
The herdsman, that had gifts in him divine,
Replied: ‘O guest, how shall this fame of mine
And honest virtue, amongst men, remain
Now and hereafter, without worthy stain,
If I, that led thee to my hovel here,
And made thee fitting hospitable cheer,
Should after kill thee, and thy loved mind
Force from thy bones? Or how should stand inclin’d
With any faith my will t’ importune Jove
In any prayer hereafter for his love?
Come, now ’tis supper’s hour, and instant haste
My men will make home, when our sweet repast
We’ll taste together.’ This discourse they held
In mutual kind, when from a neighbour field
His swine and swine-herds came, who in their cotes
Inclos’d their herds for sleep, which mighty throats
Laid out in ent’ring. Then the god-like swain
His men enjoin’d thus: ‘Bring me to be slain
A chief swine female for my stranger guest,
When all together we will take our feast,
Refreshing now our spirits, that all day take
Pains in our swine’s good, who may therefore make
For our pains with them all amends with one,
Since others eat our labours, and take none.’
This said, his sharp steel hew’d down wood, and they
A passing fat swine haled out of the sty,
Of five years old, which to the fire they put.
When first Eumaeus from the front did cut
The sacred hair, and cast it in the fire,
Then pray’d to heav
’
n; for still before desire
Was serv’d with food, in their so rude abodes,
Not the poor swine-herd would forget the gods;
Good souls they bore, how bad soever were
The habits that their bodies’ parts did bear.
When all the deathless deities besought,
That wise Ulysses might be safely brought
Home to his house; then with a log of oak
Left lying by, high lifting it, a stroke
He gave so deadly it made life expire.
Then cut the rest her throat, and all in fire
They hid and sing’d her, cut her up; and then,
The master took the office from the men,
Who on the altar did the parts impose
That served for sacrifice, beginning close
About the belly, thorough which he went,
And (all the chief fat gathering) gave it vent
(Part dredg’d with flour) into the sacred flame;
Then cut they up the joints, and roasted them,
Drew all from spit, and serv’d in dishes all.
Then rose Eumaeus (who was general
In skill to guide each act his fit event)
And, all in sev’n parts cut, the first part went
To service of the nymphs and Mercury,
To whose names he did rites of piety
In vows particular; and all the rest
He shared to every one, but his lov’d guest
He grac’d with all the chine, and of that king,
To have his heart cheer’d, set up every string.
Which he observing said: ‘I would to Jove,
Eumaeus, thou liv’dst in his worthy love
As great as mine, that giv’st to such a guest
As my poor self of all thy goods the best.’
Eumaeus answer’d: ‘Eat, unhappy wretch,
And to what here is at thy pleasure reach.
This I have, this thou want’st; thus god will give,
Thus take away, in us, and all that live.
To his will’s equal centre all things fall,
His mind he must have, for he can do all.’
Thus having eat, and to his wine descended,
Before he serv’d his own thirst, he commended
The first use of it in fit sacrifice
(As of his meat) to all the deities,
And to the city-raser’s hand applied
The second cup, whose place was next his side.
Mesaulius did distribute the meat
(To which charge was Eumaeus solely set,
In absence of Ulysses, by the queen
And old Laertes), and this man had been
Bought by Eumaeus, with his faculties
Employ’d then in the Taphian merchandise.
But now, to food appos’d, and order’d thus,
All fell. Desire suffic’d, Mesaulius
Did take away. For bed then next they were,
All throughly satisfied with complete cheer.
The night then came, ill, and no taper shin’d;
Jove rain’d her whole date; th’ ever-wat’ry wind
Zephyr blew loud; and Laertiades
(Approving kind Eumaeus’ carefulness
For his whole good) made far about assay,
To get some cast-off cassock (lest he lay
That rough night cold) of him, or any one
Of those his servants; when he thus begun:
‘Hear me, Eumaeus, and my other friends,
I’ll use a speech that to my glory tends,
Since I have drunk wine past my usual guise.
Strong wine commands the fool and moves the wise,
Moves and impels him too to sing and dance,
And break in pleasant laughters, and, perchance,
Prefer a speech too that were better in.
But when my spirits once to speak begin,
I shall not then dissemble. Would to heav’n,
I were as young, and had my forces driv’n
As close together, as when once our pow’rs
We led to ambush under th’ Ilion tow’rs!
Where Ithacus and Menelaus were
The two commanders, when it pleas’d them there
To take myself for third, when to the town
And lofty walls we led; we couch’d close down,
All arm’d, amids the osiers and the reeds,
Which oftentimes th’ o’er-flowing river feeds.
The cold night came, and th’ icy northern gale
Blew bleak upon us, after which did fall
A snow so cold, it cut as in it beat
A frozen water, which was all concrete
About our shields like crystal. All made fain
Above our arms to clothe, and clothe again.
And so we made good shift, our shields beside
Clapp’d close upon our clothes, to rest and hide
From all discovery. But I, poor fool,
Left my weeds with my men, because so cool
I thought it could not prove; which thought my pride
A little strengthen’d, being loath to hide
A goodly glittering garment I had on;
And so I follow’d with my shield alone,
And that brave weed. But when the night near ended
Her course on earth, and that the stars descended,
I jogg’d Ulysses, who lay passing near,
And spake to him, that had a nimble ear,
Assuring him, that long I could not lie
Amongst the living, for the fervency
Of that sharp night would kill me, since as then
My evil angel made me with my men
Leave all weeds but a fine one. “But I know
’Tis vain to talk; here wants all remedy now.”
This said, he bore that understanding part
In his prompt spirit that still show’d his art
In fight and counsel, saying (in a word,
And that low whisper’d) “Peace, lest you afford
Some Greek note of your softness.” No word more,
But made as if his stern austerity bore
My plight no pity; yet, as still he lay
His head reposing on his hand, gave way
To this invention: “Hear me friends, a dream
(That was of some celestial light a beam)
Stood in my sleep before me, prompting me
With this fit notice: ‘We are far,’ said he,
‘From out our fleet. Let one go then, and try
If Agamemnon will afford supply
To what we now are strong.’ ” This stirr’d a speed
In Thoas to th’ affair, whose purple weed
He left for haste; which then I took, and lay
In quiet after, till the dawn of day.
This shift Ulysses made for one in need,
And would to heav’n, that youth such spirit did feed
Now in my nerves, and that my joints were knit
With such a strength as made me then held fit
To lead men with Ulysses! I should then
Seem worth a weed that fits a herdsman’s men,
For two respects: to gain a thankful friend,
And to a good man’s need a good extend.’
‘O father,’ said Eumaeus,’ thou hast shown
Good cause for us to give thee good renown,
Not using any word that was not freed
From all least ill. Thou, therefore, shalt not need
Or coat or other thing, that aptly may
Beseem a wretched suppliant for defray
Of this night’s need. But, when her golden throne
The Morn ascends, you must resume your own,
For here you must not dream of many weeds,
Or any change at all. We serve our needs
As you do yours: one back, one coat. But when
Ulysses’ loved son returns, he then
Shall give you coat and cassock, and bestow
Your person where your heart and soul is now.’
This said, he rose, made near the fire his bed,
Which all with goats’ and sheep skins he bespread,
All which Ulysses with himself did line.
With whom, besides, he changed a gaberdine,
Thick-lined, and soft, which still he made his shift
When he would dress him ’gainst the horrid drift
Of tempest, when deep winter’s season blows.
Nor pleas’d it him to lie there with his sows,
But while Ulysses slept there, and close by
The other younkers, he abroad would lie,
And therefore arm’d him. Which set cheerful fare
Before Ulysses’ heart, to see such care
Of his goods taken, how far off soever
His fate his person and his wealth should sever.
First then, a sharp-edg’d sword he girt about
His well-spread shoulders, and (to shelter out
The sharp west wind that blew) he put him on
A thick-lin’d jacket, and yet cast upon
All that the large hide of a goat, well fed.
A lance then took he, with a keen steel head,
To be his keep-off both ’gainst men and dogs.
And thus went he to rest with his male hogs,
That still abroad lay underneath a rock,
Shield to the north-wind’s ever-eager shock.
The end of the fourteenth book
Book 15
The Argument
Minerva to his native seat
Exhorts Ulysses’ son’s retreat,
In bed and waking. He receives
Gifts of Atrides, and so leaves
The Spartan court. And, going aboard,
Doth favourable way afford
To Theoclymenus, that was
The Argive augur, and sought pass,
Fled for a slaughter he had done.
Eumaeus tells Laertes’ son
How he became his father’s man,
Being sold by the Phoenician
For some agreed-on faculties,
From forth the Syrian Isle made prise.
Telemachus, arriv’d at home,
Doth to Eumaeus’ cottage come.
Another Argument
Omicron
From Sparta’s strand
Makes safe access
To his own land
Ulyssides.
Book 15
I
n
La
ced
aemon, large, and apt for dances,
Athenian Pallas her access advances
Up to the great-in-soul Ulysses’ seed,
Suggesting his return now fit for deed.
She found both him and Nestor’s noble son
In bed, in front of that fair mansion,
Nestorides surpris’d with pleasing sleep,
But on the watch Ulysses’ son did keep;
Sleep could not enter, cares did so excite
His soul, through all the solitary night,
For his lov’d father. To him, near, she said:
‘Telemachus! ’Tis time that now were stay’d
Thy foreign travels, since thy goods are free
For those proud men that all will eat from thee,
Divide thy whole possessions, and leave
Thy too-late presence nothing to receive.
Incite the shrill-voiced Menelaus then,
To send thee to thy native seat again,
While thou mayst yet find in her honour strong
Thy blameless mother ’gainst thy father’s wrong.
For both the father, and the brothers too,
Of thy lov’d mother, will not suffer so
Extended any more her widow’s bed,
But make her now her richest wooer wed,
Eurymachus, who chiefly may augment
Her gifts, and make her jointure eminent.
And therefore haste thee, lest, in thy despite,
Thy house stand empty of thy native right.
For well thou know’st what mind a woman bears;
The house of him, whoever she endears
Herself in nuptials to, she sees increas’d,
The issue of her first lov’d lord deceas’d
Forgotten quite, and never thought on more.
In thy return then, the re-counted store
Thou find’st reserv’d, to thy most trusted maid
Commit in guard, till heav
’
n’s pow’rs have purvey’d
A wife, in virtue and in beauty’s grace
Of fit sort for thee, to supply her place.
And this note more I’ll give thee, which repose
In sure remembrance: the best sort of those
That woo thy mother watchful scouts address,
Both in the straits of th’ Ithacensian seas,
And dusty Samos, with intent t’ invade
And take thy life, ere thy return be made.
Which yet I think will fail, and some of them
That waste thy fortunes taste of that extreme
They plot for thee. But keep off far from shore,
And day and night sail, for a fore-right blore
Whoever of th’ immortals that vow guard
And ’scape to thy return, will see prepar’d.
As soon as thou arriv’st, dismiss to town
Thy ship and men, and first of all make down
To him that keeps thy swine, and doth conceive
A tender care to see thee well survive.
There sleep; and send him to the town, to tell
The chaste Penelope, that safe and well
Thou liv’st in his charge, and that Pylos’ sands
The place contain’d from whence thy person lands.’
Thus she to large Olympus made ascent.
When with his heel a little touch he lent
To Nestor’s son, whose sleep’s sweet chains he loos’d,
Bad rise, and see in chariot inclos’d
Their one-hoo
f
’
d horse, that they might straight be gone.
‘No such haste,’ he replied. ‘Night holds her throne,
And dims all way to course of chariot.
The Morn will soon get up. Nor see forgot
The gifts with haste, that will, I know, be rich,
And put into our coach with gracious speech
By lance-fam’d Menelaus. Not a guest
Shall touch at his house, but shall store his breast
With fit mind of an hospitable man,
To last as long as any daylight can
His eyes recomfort, in such gifts as he
Will proofs make of his hearty royalty.’
He had no sooner said, but up arose
Aurora, that the golden hills repose.
And Menelaus, good-at-martial-cries,
From Helen’s bed rais’d, to his guest applies
His first appearance. Whose repair made known
T’ Ulysses’ lov’d son, on his robe was thrown
About his gracious body, his cloak cast
Athwart his ample shoulders, and in haste
Abroad he went, and did the king accost:
‘Atrides, guarded with heav’n’s deified host,
Grant now remission to my native right,
My mind now urging mine own house’s sight.’
‘Nor will I stay,’ said he, ‘thy person long,
Since thy desires to go are grown so strong.
I should myself be angry to sustain
The like detention urg’d by other men.
Who loves a guest past mean, past mean will hate;
The mean in all acts bears the best estate.
A like ill ’tis, to thrust out such a guest
As would not go, as to detain the rest.
We should a guest love, while he loves to stay,
And, when he likes not, give him loving way.
Yet suffer so, that we may gifts impose
In coach to thee; which ere our hands inclose,
Thine eyes shall see, lest else our loves may glose.
Besides, I’ll cause our women to prepare
What our house yields, and merely so much fare
As may suffice for health. Both well will do,
Both for our honour and our profit too.
And, serving strength with food, you after may
As much earth measure as will match the day.
If you will turn your course from sea, and go
Through Greece and Argos (that myself may so
Keep kind way with thee) I’ll join horse, and guide
T’ our human cities. Nor ungratified
Will any one remit us; some one thing
Will each present us, that along may bring
Our pass with love, and prove our virtues blaz’d:
A cauldron, or a tripod, richly braz’d,
Two mules, a bowl of gold, that hath his price
Heighten’d with emblems of some rare device.’
The wise prince answer’d: ‘I would gladly go
Home to mine own, and see that govern’d so
That I may keep what I for certain hold,
Not hazard that for only hoped-for gold.
I left behind me none so all ways fit
To give it guard, as mine own trust with it.
Besides, in this broad course which you propose,
My father seeking I myself may lose.’
When this the shrill-voic’d Menelaus heard,
He charg’d his queen and maids to see prepar’d
Breakfast, of what the whole house held for best.
To him rose Eteoneus from his rest,
Whose dwelling was not far off from the court,
And his attendance his command did sort
With kindling fires, and furth’ring all the roast,
In act of whose charge heard no time he lost.
Himself then to an odorous room descended,
Whom Megapenthe and his queen attended.
Come to his treasury, a two-ear’d cup
He choos’d of all, and made his son bear up
A silver bowl. The queen then taking stand
Aside her chest, where by her own fair hand
Lay vests of all hues wrought, she took out one
Most large, most artful, chiefly fair, and shone
Like to a star, and lay of all the last.
Then through the house with either’s gift they pass’d
When to Ulysses’ son Atrides said:
‘Telemachus, since so entirely sway’d
Thy thoughts are with thy vow’d return now tender’d,
May Juno’s thund’ring husband see it render’d
Perfect at all parts, action answering thought.
Of all the rich gifts in my treasure sought,
I give thee here the most in grace and best:
A bowl but silver, yet the brim’s compress’d
With gold, whose fabric his desert doth bring
From Vulcan’s hand, presented by the king
And great heroë of Sidonia’s state,
When at our parting he did consummate
His whole housekeeping. This do thou command.’
This said, he put the round bowl in his hand,
And then his strong son Megapenthe plac
’
d
The silver cup before him, amply grac’d
With work and lustre. Helen (standing by,
And in her hand the robe, her housewi
f
’
ry)
His name rememb’ring, said: ‘And I present,
Lov’d son, this gift to thee, the monument
Of the so-many-loved Helen’s hands,
Which, at the knitting of thy nuptial bands,
Present thy wife. In mean space, may it lie
By thy lov’d mother; but to me apply
Thy pleasure in it, and thus take thy way
To thy fair house, and country’s wished stay.’
Thus gave she to his hands the veil, and he
The acceptation author’d joyfully.
Which in the chariot’s chest Pisistratus
Plac’d with the rest, and held miraculous.
The yellow-headed king then led them all
To seats and thrones, plac’d in his spacious hall.
The hand-maid water brought, and gave it stream
From out a fair and golden ewer to them,
From whose hands to a silver cauldron fled
The troubled wave. A bright board then she spread,
On which another reverend dame set bread;
To which more servants store of victuals serv
’
d.
Eteonaeus was the man that carv’d,
And Megapenthe fill’d them all their wine.
All fed and drank, till all felt care decline
For those refreshings. Both the guests did go
To horse and coach, and forth the portico
A little issu’d, when the yellow king
Brought wine himself, that, with an offering
To all the gods, they might their journey take.
He stood before the gods, and thus he spake:
‘Farewell, young princes! To grave Nestor’s ear
This salutation from my gratitude bear:
That I profess, in all our Ilion wars,
He stood a careful father to my cares.’
To whom the wise Ulyssides replied:
‘With all our utmost shall be signified,
Jove-kept Atrides, your right royal will;
And would to god, I could as well fulfill
Mine own mind’s gratitude, for your free grace,
In telling to Ulysses, in the place
Of my return, in what accomplish’d kind
I have obtain’d the office of a friend
At your deservings; whose fair end you crown
With gifts so many, and of such renown!’
His wish, that he might find in his retreat
His father safe return’d (to so repeat
The king’s love to him) was saluted thus:
An eagle rose, and in her seres did truss
A goose, all white, and huge, a household one,
Which men and women, crying out upon,
Pursu’d, but she, being near the guests, her flight
Made on their right hand, and kept still fore-right
Before their horses; which observ’d by them,
The spirits in all their minds took joys extreme,
Which Nestor’s son thus question’d: ‘Jove-kept king,
Yield your grave thoughts, if this ostentful thing
(This eagle and this goose) touch us or you?’
He put to study, and not knowing how
To give fit answer, Helen took on her
Th’ ostent’s solution, and did this prefer:
‘Hear me, and I will play the prophet’s part,
As the immortals cast it in my heart,
And as, I think, will make the true sense known:
As this Jove’s bird, from out the mountains flown
(Where was her eyrie, and whence rose her race)
Truss’d up this goose, that from the house did graze,
So shall Ulysses, coming from the wild
Of seas and sufferings, reach, unreconcil’d,
His native home, where ev
’
n this hour he is,
And on those house-fed wooers those wrongs of his
Will shortly wreak, with all their miseries.’
‘O,’ said Telemachus, ‘if Saturnian Jove
To my desires thy dear presage approve,
When I arrive, I will perform to thee
My daily vows, as to a deity.’
This said, he used his scourge upon the horse,
That through the city freely made their course
To field, and all day made that first speed good.
But when the sun set, and obscureness stood
In each man’s way, they ended their access
At Pheras, in the house of Diocles,
Son to Orsilochus, Alpheus’ seed,
Who gave them guest-rites; and sleep’s natural need
They that night serv
’
d there. When Aurora rose,
They join’d their horse, took coach, and did dispose
Their course for Pylos; whose high city soon
They reach’d. Nor would Telemachus be won
To Nestor’s house, and therefore order’d thus
His speech to Nestor’s son, Pisistratus:
‘How shall I win thy promise to a grace
That I must ask of thee? We both embrace
The names of bed-fellows, and in that name
Will glory as an adjunct of our fame;
Our fathers’ friendship, our own equal age,
And our joint travel, may the more engage
Our mutual concord. Do not then assay,
My god-lov’d friend, to lead me from my way
To my near ship, but take a course direct
And leave me there, lest thy old sire’s respect,
In his desire to love me, hinder so
My way for home, that have such need to go.’
This said, Nestorides held all discourse
In his kind soul, how best he might enforce
Both promise and performance; which, at last,
He vow’d to venture, and directly cast
His horse about to fetch the ship and shore.
Where come, his friends’ most lovely gifts he bore
Aboard the ship, and in her hind-deck plac’d
The veil that Helen’s curious hand had grac’d,
And Menelaus’ gold, and said: ‘Away,
Nor let thy men in any least date stay,
But quite put off, ere I get home and tell
The old duke you are pass’d; for passing well