The town then show me; give my nakedness
Some shroud to shelter it, if to these seas
Linen or woollen you have brought to cleanse.
god give you, in requital, all th’ amends
Your heart can wish, a husband, family,
And good agreement. Nought beneath the sky
More sweet, more worthy is, than firm consent
Of man and wife in household government.
It joys their wishers well, their enemies wounds,
But to themselves the special good redounds.’
She answer’d: ‘Stranger! I discern in thee
Nor sloth nor folly reigns; and yet I see
Th’ art poor and wretched. In which I conclude,
That industry nor wisdom make endu’d
Men with those gifts that make them best to th’ eye;
Jove only orders man’s felicity.
To good and bad his pleasure fashions still
The whole proportion of their good and ill.
And he perhaps hath form’d this plight in thee,
Of which thou must be patient, as he free.
But after all thy wand’rings, since thy way
Both to our earth and near our city lay,
As being expos’d to our cares to relieve,
Weeds, and what else a human hand should give
To one so suppliant and tam’d with woe,
Thou shalt not want. Our city I will show,
And tell our people’s name: this neighbour town,
And all this kingdom, the Phaeacians own.
And (since thou seem’dst so fain to know my birth,
And mad’st a question, if of heav
’
n or earth)
This earth hath bred me, and my father’s name
Alcinous is, that in the power and frame
Of this isle’s rule is supereminent.’
Thus, passing him, she to the virgins went,
And said: ‘Give stay both to your feet and fright.
Why thus disperse ye for a man’s mere sight?
Esteem you him a Cyclop, that long since
Made use to prey upon our citizens?
This man no moist man is,
nor wat’rish thing,
That’s ever flitting, ever ravishing
All it can compass; and, like it, doth range
In rape of women, never stay’d in change;
This man is truly manly, wise, and stay’d,
In soul more rich the more to sense decay’d,
Who nor will do, nor suffer to be done,
Acts lewd and abject; nor can such a one
Greet the Phaeacians with a mind envious.
Dear to the gods they are, and he is pious.
Besides, divided from the world we are,
The out-part of it, billows circular
The sea revolving round about our shore;
Nor is there any man that enters more
Than our own countrymen, with what is brought
From other countries. This man, minding nought
But his relief, a poor unhappy wretch,
Wrack’d here, and hath no other land to fetch,
Him now we must provide for. From Jove come
All strangers, and the needy of a home,
Who any gift, though ne’er so small it be,
Esteem as great, and take it gratefully.
And therefore, virgins, give the stranger food
And wine; and see ye bathe him in the flood,
Near to some shore to shelter most inclin’d.
To cold-bath-bathers hurtful is the wind,
Not only rugged making th’ outward skin,
But by his thin powers pierceth parts within.’
This said, their flight in a return they set,
And did Ulysses with all grace entreat,
Show’d him a shore, wind-proof and full of shade,
By him a shirt and outer mantle laid,
A golden jug of liquid oil did add,
Bad wash and all things as Nausicaa bad.
Divine Ulysses would not use their aid,
But thus bespake them: ‘Every lovely maid,
Let me entreat to stand a little by,
That I, alone, the fresh flood may apply
To cleanse my bosom of the sea-wrought brine,
And then use oil, which long time did not shine
On my poor shoulders. I’ll not wash in sight
Of fair-hair’d maidens. I should blush outright,
To bathe all bare by such a virgin light.’
They mov’d, and mus’d a man had so much grace,
And told their mistress what a man he was.
He cleans’d his broad soil’d shoulders, back, and head,
Yet never tam’d, but now had foam and weed
Knit in the fair curls. Which dissolv’d, and he
Slick’d all with sweet oil, the sweet charity
The untouch’d virgin show’d in his attire
He cloth’d him with. Then Pallas put a fire,
More than before, into his sparkling eyes,
His late soil set off with his soon fresh guise.
His locks, cleans’d, curl’d the more, and match’d, in pow
’
r
To please an eye, the hyacinthian flow’r.
And as a workman, that can well combine
Silver and gold, and make both strive to shine,
As being by Vulcan, and Minerva too,
Taught how far either may be urg’d to go
In strife of eminence, when work sets forth
A worthy soul to bodies of such worth,
No thought reproving th’ act, in any place,
Nor art no debt to nature’s liveliest grace:
So Pallas wrought in him a grace as great
From head to shoulders, and ashore did seat
His goodly presence. To which such a guise
He show’d in going, that it ravish’d eyes.
All which continu’d, as he sat apart,
Nausicaa’s eye struck wonder through her heart,
Who thus bespake her consorts: ‘Hear me, you
Fair-wristed virgins! This rare man, I know,
Treads not our country earth against the will
Of some god thron’d on the Olympian hill.
He show’d to me, till now, not worth the note,
But now he looks as he had godhead got.
I would to heaven my husband were no worse,
And would be call’d no better, but the course
Of other husbands pleas’d to dwell out here.
Observe and serve him with our utmost cheer.’
She said; they heard, and did. He drunk and eat
Like to a harpy, having touch’d no meat
A long before time. But Nausicaa now
Thought of the more grace she did lately vow,
Had horse to chariot join’d, and up she rose,
Up cheer’d her guest, and said: ‘Guest, now dispose
Yourself for town, that I may let you see
My father’s court, where all the peers will be
Of our Phaeacian state. At all parts, then,
Observe to whom and what place y’ are t’ attain –
Though I need usher you with no advice,
Since I suppose you absolutely wise.
While we the fields pass, and men’s labours there,
So long, in these maids’ guides, directly bear
Upon my chariot (I must go before
For cause that after comes, to which this more
Be my induction); you shall then soon end
Your way to town, whose tow
’
rs you see ascend
To such a steepness. On whose either side
A fair port stands, to which is nothing wide
An enterer’s passage; on whose both hands ride
Ships in fair harbours; which once past, you win
The goodly marketplace (that circles in
A fane to Neptune, built of curious stone,
And passing ample) where munition,
Gables, and masts, men make, and polish’d oars;
For the Phaeacians are not conquerors
By bows nor quivers; oars, masts, ships they are
With which they plough the sea, and wage their war.
And now the cause comes why I lead the way,
Not taking you to coach: the men that sway
In work of those tools that so fit our state,
Are rude mechanicals, that rare and late
Work in the marketplace; and those are they
Whose bitter tongues I shun, who straight would say
(For these vile vulgars are extremely proud,
And foully-languag’d) ‘What is he, allow’d
To coach it with Nausicaa, so large set,
And fairly? Where were these two met?
He shall be sure her husband. She hath been
Gadding in some place, and, of foreign men
Fitting her fancy, kindly brought him home
In her own ship. He must, of force, be come
From some far region; we have no such man.
It may be, praying hard, when her heart ran
On some wish’d husband, out of heav’n some god
Dropp’d in her lap; and there lies she at road
Her complete life time. But, in sooth, if she,
Ranging abroad, a husband such as he
Whom now we saw, laid hand on, she was wise;
For none of all our nobles are of prize
Enough for her; he must beyond sea come,
That wins her high mind, and will have her home.
Of our peers many have importun’d her,
Yet she will none.’ Thus these folks will confer
Behind my back; or, meeting, to my face
The foul-mouth rout dare put home this disgrace.
And this would be reproaches to my fame,
For ev’n myself just anger would inflame,
If any other virgin I should see,
Her parents living, keep the company
Of any man to any end of love,
Till open nuptials should her act approve.
And therefore hear me, guest, and take such way,
That you yourself may compass, in your stay,
Your quick deduction by my father’s grace,
And means to reach the root of all your race.
We shall, not far out of our way to town,
A never-fell’d grove find, that poplars crown,
To Pallas sacred, where a fountain flows,
And round about the grove a meadow grows,
In which my father holds a manor house,
Deck’d all with orchards, green and odorous,
As far from town as one may hear a shout.
There stay, and rest your foot-pains, till full out
We reach the city; where, when you may guess
We are arriv’d, and enter our access
Within my father’s court, then put you on
For our Phaeacian state; where, to be shown
My father’s house, desire. Each infant there
Can bring you to it; and yourself will clear
Distinguish it from others, for no shows
The city buildings make compar’d with those
That king Alcinous’ seat doth celebrate.
In whose roofs, and the court (where men of state
And suitors sit and stay) when you shall hide,
Straight pass it, ent’ring further, where abide
My mother, with her withdrawn housewiferies,
Who still sits in the fire-shine, and applies
Her rock, all purple, and of pompous show,
Her chair plac’d ’gainst a pillar, all a-row
Her maids behind her set; and to her here
My father’s dining throne looks, seated where
He pours his choice of wine in, like a god.
This view once past, for th’ end of your abode,
Address suit to my mother, that her mean
May make the day of your redition seen,
And you may frolic straight, though far away
You are in distance from your wished stay.
For, if she once be won to wish you well,
Your hope may instantly your passport seal,
And thenceforth sure abide to see your friends,
Fair house, and all to which your heart contends.’
This said, she used her shining scourge, and lash’d
Her mules, that soon the shore left where she wash’d,
And, knowing well the way, their pace was fleet,
And thick they gather’d up their nimble feet.
Which yet she temper’d so, and used her scourge
With so much skill, as not to over-urge
The foot behind, and make them straggle so
From close society. Firm together go
Ulysses and her maids. And now the sun
Sunk to the waters, when they all had won
The never-fell’d and sound-exciting wood,
Sacred to Pallas; where the godlike good
Ulysses rested, and to Pallas pray’d:
‘Hear me, of goat-kept Jove th’ unconquer’d Maid!
Now throughly hear me, since in all the time
Of all my wrack, my prayers could never climb
Thy far-off ears, when noiseful Neptune toss’d
Upon his wat’ry bristles my emboss’d
And rock-torn body. Hear yet now, and deign
I may of the Phaeacian state obtain
Pity and grace.’ Thus pray’d he, and she heard,
By no means yet expos
’
d to sight appear’d
For fear t’ offend her uncle, the supreme
Of all the sea-gods, whose wrath still extreme
Stood to Ulysses, and would never cease
Till with his country shore he crown’d his peace.
The end of the sixth book
Book 7
The Argument
Nausicaa arrives at town,
And then Ulysses. He makes known
His suit to Arete, who view
Takes of his vesture, which she knew,
And asks him from whose hands it came.
He tells, with all the hapless frame
Of his affairs in all the while
Since he forsook Calypso’s isle.
Another Argument
Eta
The honour’d minds
And welcome things
Ulysses finds
In Scheria’s kings.
Book 7
T
hu
s
pr
a
y’
d the wise and god-observing man.
The maid, by free force of her palfreys, won
Access to town, and the renowned court
Reach’d of her father; where, within the port,
She stay’d her coach, and round about her came
Her brothers, made as of immortal frame,
Who yet disdain’d not, for her love, mean deeds,
But took from coach her mules, brought in her weeds.
And she ascends her chamber, where purvey’d
A quick fire was by her old chambermaid,
Eurymedusa, th’ Aperaean born,
And brought by sea from Apera t’ adorn
The court of great Alcinous, because
He gave to all the blest Phaeacians laws,
And, like a heav’n-born pow
’
r in speech, acquir’d
The people’s ears. To one then so admir’d,
Eurymedusa was esteem’d no worse
Than worth the gift; yet now, grown old, was nurse
To ivory-arm’d Nausicaa, gave heat
To all her fires, and dress’d her privy meat.
Then rose Ulysses, and made way to town;
Which ere he reach’d, a mighty mist was thrown
By Pallas round about him, in her care
Lest, in the sway of envies popular,
Some proud Phaeacian might foul language pass,
Justle him up, and ask him what he was.
Ent’ring the lovely town yet, through the cloud
Pallas appear’d, and like a young wench show’d
Bearing a pitcher, stood before him so
As if objected purposely to know
What there he needed; whom he question’d thus:
‘Know you not, daughter, where Alcinous,
That rules this town, dwells? I, a poor distress’d
Mere stranger here, know none I may request
To make this court known to me.’ She replied:
‘Strange father, I will see you satisfied
In that request. My father dwells just by
The house you seek for; but go silently,
Nor ask nor speak to any other; I
Shall be enough to show your way. The men
That here inhabit do not entertain
With ready kindness strangers, of what worth
Or state soever, nor have taken forth
Lessons of civil usage or respect
To men beyond them. They, upon their pow’rs
Of swift ships building, top the wat’ry tow’rs,
And Jove hath giv
’
n them ships, for sail so wrought
They cut a feather, and command a thought.’
This said, she usher’d him, and after he
Trod in the swift steps of the deity.
The free-sail’d seamen could not get a sight
Of our Ulysses yet, though he forthright
Both by their houses and their persons past,
Pallas about him such a darkness cast.
By her divine pow’r and her reverend care,
She would not give the town-born cause to stare.
He wonder’d, as he past, to see the ports;
The shipping in them; and for all resorts
The goodly market-steads; and aisles beside
For the heroës; walls so large and wide;
Rampires so high, and of such strength withal,
It would with wonder any eye appal.
At last they reach’d the court, and Pallas said:
‘Now, honour’d stranger, I will see obey’d
Your will, to show our ruler’s house: ’tis here,
Where you shall find kings celebrating cheer.
Enter amongst them, nor admit a fear.
More bold a man is, he prevails the more,
Though man nor place he ever saw before.
You first shall find the queen in court, whose name
Is Arete, of parents born the same
That was the king her spouse; their pedigree
I can report. The great Earth-shaker, he
Of Periboea (that her sex out-shone,
And youngest daughter was t’ Eurymedon,
Who of th’ unmeasur’d-minded giants sway’d
Th’ imperial sceptre, and the pride allay’d
Of men so impious with cold death, and died
Himself soon after) got the magnified
In mind Nausithous, who the kingdom’s state
First held in supreme rule. Nausithous gat
Rhexenor and Alcinous, now king.
Rhexenor (whose seed did no male fruit spring,
And whom the silver-bow-grac’d Phoebus slew
Young in the court) his shed blood did renew
In only Arete, who now is spouse
To him that rules the kingdom in this house,
And is her uncle king Alcinous,
Who honours her past equal. She may boast
More honour of him than the honour’d most
Of any wife in earth can of her lord,
How many more soever realms afford
That keep house under husbands. Yet no more
Her husband honours her, than her blest store
Of gracious children. All the city cast
Eyes on her as a goddess, and give taste
Of their affections to her in their pray’rs,
Still as she decks the streets; for all affairs
Wrapt in contention she dissolves to men.
Whom she affects, she wants no mind to deign
Goodness enough. If her heart stand inclin’d
To your dispatch, hope all you wish to find,
Your friends, your longing family, and all
That can within your most affections fall.’
This said, away the grey-eyed goddess flew
Along th’ untam’d sea, left the lovely hue
Scheria presented, out flew Marathon,
And ample-streeted Athens lighted on;
Where to the house, that casts so thick a shade,
Of Erectheus she ingression made.
Ulysses to the lofty-builded court
Of king Alcinous made bold resort;
Yet in his heart cast many a thought, before
The brazen pavement of the rich court bore
His enter’d person. Like heav’n’s two main lights,
The rooms illustrated both days and nights.
On every side stood firm a wall of brass,
Ev
’
n from the threshold to the inmost pass,
Which bore a roof up that all sapphire was.
The brazen thresholds both sides did enfold
Silver pilasters, hung with gates of gold
Whose portal was of silver; over which
A golden cornice did the front enrich.
On each side, dogs, of gold and silver fram’d,
The house’s guard stood; which the deity lam’d
With knowing inwards had inspired, and made
That death nor age should their estates invade.
Along the wall stood every way a throne,
From th’ entry to the lobby, every one
Cast over with a rich-wrought cloth of state;
Beneath which the Phaeacian princes sate
At wine and food, and feasted all the year.
Youths forg
’
d of gold at every table there
Stood holding flaming torches, that in night
Gave through the house each honour’d guest his light.
And, to encounter feast with housewif’ry,
In one room fifty women did apply
Their several tasks. Some apple-colour’d corn
Ground in fair querns, and some did spindles turn,
Some work in looms; no hand least rest receives,
But all had motion, apt as aspen leaves.
And from the weeds they wove, so fast they laid,
And so thick thrust together thread by thread,
That th’ oil, of which the wool had drunk his fill,
Did with his moisture in light dews distill.
As much as the Phaeacian men excell’d
All other countrymen in art to build
A swift-sail’d ship: so much the women there
For work of webs past other women were.
Past mean, by Pallas’ means, they understood
The grace of good works; and had wits as good.
Without the hall, and close upon the gate,
A goodly orchard-ground was situate,
Of near ten acres; about which was led
A lofty quickset. In it flourished
High and broad fruit trees, that pomegranates bore,
Sweet figs, pears, olives; and a number more
Most useful plants did there produce their store,
Whose fruits the hardest winter could not kill,
Nor hottest summer wither. There was still
Fruit in his proper season all the year.
Sweet Zephyr breath
’
d upon them blasts that were
Of varied tempers. These he made to bear
Ripe fruits, these blossoms. Pear grew after pear,
Apple succeeded apple, grape the grape,
Fig after fig came; time made never rape
Of any dainty there. A spritely vine
Spread here his root, whose fruit a hot sunshine
Made ripe betimes; here grew another green.
Here some were gathering, here some pressing seen.
A large-allotted several each fruit had;
And all th’ adorn’d grounds their appearance made
In flower and fruit, at which the king did aim
To the precisest order he could claim.
Two fountains grac’d the garden; of which, one
Pour’d out a winding stream that over-run
The grounds for their use chiefly, th’ other went
Close by the lofty palace gate, and lent
The city his sweet benefit. And thus
The gods the court deck’d of Alcinous.
Patient Ulysses stood a while at gaze,
But, having all observed, made instant pace
Into the court; where all the peers he found,
And captains of Phaeacia, with cups crown’d,
Offering to sharp-ey’d Hermes, to whom last
They us
’
d to sacrifice, when sleep had cast
His inclination through their thoughts. But these
Ulysses past, and forth went; nor their eyes
Took note of him, for Pallas stopp’d the light
With mists about him, that unstay’d he might
First to Alcinous and Arete,
Present his person; and, of both them, she
By Pallas’ counsel was to have the grace
Of foremost greeting. Therefore his embrace
He cast about her knee. And then off flew
The heav’nly air that hid him; when his view
With silence and with admiration strook
The court quite through; but thus he silence broke:
‘Divine Rhexenor’s offspring, Arete,
To thy most honour’d husband and to thee
A man whom many labours have distress’d
Is come for comfort, and to every guest –
To all whom heav’n vouchsafe delightsome lives,
And after to your issue that survives
A good resignment of the goods ye leave,
With all the honour that yourselves receive
Amongst your people. Only this of me
Is the ambition, that I may but see
(By your vouchsa
f
’
d means, and betimes vouchsa
f
’
d)
My country earth, since I have long been left
To labours and to errors barr’d from end,
And far from benefit of any friend.’
He said no more, but left them dumb with that,
Went to the hearth, and in the ashes sat,
Aside the fire. At last their silence brake,
And Echinëus, th’ old heroë, spake –
A man that all Phaeacians pass’d in years,
And in persuasive eloquence all the peers,
Knew much, and us’d it well; and thus spake he:
‘Alcinous! It shews not decently,
Nor doth your honour what you see admit,
That this your guest should thus abjectly sit,
His chair the earth, the hearth his cushion,
Ashes as if appos
’
d for food. A throne,
Adorn’d with due rites, stands you more in hand
To see his person plac’d in, and command
That instantly your heralds fill in wine,
That to the god that doth in lightnings shine
We may do sacrifice; for he is there,
Where these his reverend suppliants appear.
Let what you have within be brought abroad,
To sup the stranger. All these would have show’d
This fit respect to him, but that they stay
For your precedence, that should grace the way.’
When this had added to the well-inclin’d
And sacred order of Alcinous’ mind,
Then of the great-in-wit the hand he seiz’d,
And from the ashes his fair person rais’d,
Advanc’d him to a well-adorned throne,
And from his seat rais’d his most loved son,
Laodamas, that next himself was set,
To give him place. The handmaid then did get
An ewer of gold, with water fill’d, which plac’d
Upon a cauldron, all with silver grac’d,
She pour’d out on their hands. And then was spread
A table, which the butler set with bread,
As others serv
’
d with other food the board,
In all the choice the present could afford.
Ulysses meat and wine took; and then thus
The king the herald call’d: ‘Pontonous!
Serve wine through all the house, that all may pay
Rites to the Lightner, who is still in way
With humble suppliants, and them pursues
With all benign and hospitable dues.’
Pontonous gave act to all he will’d,
And honey-sweetness-giving-minds wine fill’d,
Disposing it in cups for all to drink.
All having drunk what either’s heart could think
Fit for due sacrifice, Alcinous said:
‘Hear me, ye dukes that the Phaeacians lead,
And you our counsellors, that I may now
Discharge the charge my mind suggests to you,
For this our guest: feast past, and this night’s sleep,
Next morn, our senate summon’d, we will keep
Justs, sacred to the gods, and this our guest
Receive in solemn court with fitting feast;
Then think of his return, that, under hand
Of our deduction, his natural land
(Without more toil or care, and with delight,
And that soon giv’n him, how far hence dissite
Soever it can be) he may ascend;
And in the mean time without wrong attend,