by Homer
To whom, Eumæus! at those words displeased,
Thou didst reply. Gods! how could such a thought
Possess thee, stranger? surely thy resolve
Is altogether fixt to perish there,
If thou indeed hast purposed with that throng
To mix, whose riot and outrageous acts 400
Of violence echo through the vault of heav'n.
None, such as thou, serve _them_; their servitors
Are youths well-cloak'd, well-vested; sleek their heads,
And smug their countenances; such alone
Are their attendants, and the polish'd boards
Groan overcharg'd with bread, with flesh, with wine.
Rest here content; for neither me nor these
Thou weariest aught, and when Ulysses' son
Shall come, he will with vest and mantle fair
Cloath thee, and send thee whither most thou would'st. 410
To whom Ulysses, toil-inured.
I wish thee, O Eumæus! dear to Jove
As thou art dear to me, for this reprieve
Vouchsafed me kind, from wand'ring and from woe!
No worse condition is of mortal man
Than his who wanders; for the poor man, driv'n
By woe and by misfortune homeless forth,
A thousand mis'ries, day by day, endures.
Since thou detain'st me, then, and bidd'st me wait
His coming, tell me if the father still 420
Of famed Ulysses live, whom, going hence,
He left so nearly on the verge of life?
And lives his mother? or have both deceased
Already, and descended to the shades?
To whom the master swine-herd thus replied.
I will inform thee, and with strictest truth,
Of all that thou hast ask'd. Laertes lives,
But supplication off'ring to the Gods
Ceaseless, to free him from a weary life,
So deeply his long-absent son he mourns, 430
And the dear consort of his early youth,
Whose death is his chief sorrow, and hath brought
Old age on him, or ere its date arrived.
She died of sorrow for her glorious son,
And died deplorably; may never friend
Of mine, or benefactor die as she!
While yet she liv'd, dejected as she was,
I found it yet some solace to converse
With her, who rear'd me in my childish days,
Together with her lovely youngest-born 440
The Princess Ctimena; for side by side
We grew, and I, scarce honour'd less than she.
But soon as our delightful prime we both
Attain'd, to Samos her they sent, a bride,
And were requited with rich dow'r; but me
Cloath'd handsomely with tunic and with vest,
And with fair sandals furnish'd, to the field
She order'd forth, yet loved me still the more.
I miss her kindness now; but gracious heav'n
Prospers the work on which I here attend; 450
Hence have I food, and hence I drink, and hence
Refresh, sometimes, a worthy guest like thee.
But kindness none experience I, or can,
From fair Penelope (my mistress now)
In word or action, so is the house curs'd
With that lewd throng. Glad would the servants be
Might they approach their mistress, and receive
Advice from her; glad too to eat and drink,
And somewhat bear each to his rural home,
For perquisites are ev'ry servant's joy. 460
Then answer thus, Ulysses wise return'd.
Alas! good swain, Eumæus, how remote
From friends and country wast thou forced to roam
Ev'n in thy infancy! But tell me true.
The city where thy parents dwelt, did foes
Pillage it? or did else some hostile band
Surprizing thee alone, on herd or flock
Attendant, bear thee with them o'er the Deep,
And sell thee at this Hero's house, who pay'd
Doubtless for _thee_ no sordid price or small? 470
To whom the master swine-herd in reply.
Stranger! since thou art curious to be told
My story, silent listen, and thy wine
At leisure quaff. The nights are longest now,
And such as time for sleep afford, and time
For pleasant conf'rence; neither were it good
That thou should'st to thy couch before thy hour,
Since even sleep is hurtful, in excess.
Whoever here is weary, and desires
Early repose, let him depart to rest, 480
And, at the peep of day, when he hath fed
Sufficiently, drive forth my master's herd;
But we with wine and a well-furnish'd board
Supplied, will solace mutually derive
From recollection of our sufferings past;
For who hath much endured, and wander'd far,
Finds the recital ev'n of sorrow sweet.
Now hear thy question satisfied; attend!
There is an island (thou hast heard, perchance,
Of such an isle) named Syria; it is placed 490
Above Ortigia, and a dial owns
True to the tropic changes of the year.
No great extent she boasts, yet is she rich
In cattle and in flocks, in wheat and wine.
No famine knows that people, or disease
Noisome, of all that elsewhere seize the race
Of miserable man; but when old age
Steals on the citizens, Apollo, arm'd
With silver bow and bright Diana come,
Whose gentle shafts dismiss them soon to rest. 500
Two cities share between them all the isle,
And both were subject to my father's sway
Ctesius Ormenides, a godlike Chief.
It chanced that from Phœnicia, famed for skill
In arts marine, a vessel thither came
By sharpers mann'd, and laden deep with toys.
Now, in my father's family abode
A fair Phœnician, tall, full-sized, and skill'd
In works of elegance, whom they beguiled.
While she wash'd linen on the beach, beside 510
The ship, a certain mariner of those
Seduced her; for all women, ev'n the wise
And sober, feeble prove by love assail'd.
Who was she, he enquired, and whence? nor she
Scrupled to tell at once her father's home.
I am of Sidon, famous for her works
In brass and steel; daughter of Arybas,
Who rolls in affluence; Taphian pirates thence
Stole me returning from the field, from whom
This Chief procured me at no little cost. 520
Then answer thus her paramour return'd.
Wilt thou not hence to Sidon in our ship,
That thou may'st once more visit the abode
Of thy own wealthy parents, and themselves?
For still they live, and still are wealthy deem'd.
To whom the woman. Even that might be,
Would ye, ye seamen, by a solemn oath
Assure me of a safe conveyance home.
Then sware the mariners as she required,
And, when their oath was ended, thus again 530
The woman of Phœnicia them bespake.
Now, silence! no man, henceforth, of you all
Accost me, though he meet me on the road,
Or at yon fountain; lest some tattler run
With tidings home to my old master's ear,
Who, with suspicion touch'd, may _me_ confine
In cruel bonds, and death contrive for _you_.
But be ye close; purchase your stores in haste;
And when your vessel shall be freig
hted full,
Quick send me notice, for I mean to bring 540
What gold soever opportune I find,
And will my passage cheerfully defray
With still another moveable. I nurse
The good man's son, an urchin shrewd, of age
To scamper at my side; him will I bring,
Whom at some foreign market ye shall prove
Saleable at what price soe'er ye will.
So saying, she to my father's house return'd.
They, there abiding the whole year, their ship
With purchased goods freighted of ev'ry kind, 550
And when, her lading now complete, she lay
For sea prepared, their messenger arrived
To summon down the woman to the shore.
A mariner of theirs, subtle and shrewd,
Then, ent'ring at my father's gate, produced
A splendid collar, gold with amber strung.
My mother (then at home) with all her maids
Handling and gazing on it with delight,
Proposed to purchase it, and he the nod
Significant, gave unobserv'd, the while, 560
To the Phœnician woman, and return'd.
She, thus informed, leading me by the hand
Went forth, and finding in the vestibule
The cups and tables which my father's guests
Had used, (but they were to the forum gone
For converse with their friends assembled there)
Convey'd three cups into her bosom-folds,
And bore them off, whom I a thoughtless child
Accompanied, at the decline of day,
When dusky evening had embrown'd the shore. 570
We, stepping nimbly on, soon reach'd the port
Renown'd, where that Phœnician vessel lay.
They shipp'd us both, and all embarking cleav'd
Their liquid road, by favourable gales,
Jove's gift, impell'd. Six days we day and night
Continual sailed, but when Saturnian Jove
Now bade the sev'nth bright morn illume the skies,
Then, shaft-arm'd Dian struck the woman dead.
At once she pitch'd headlong into the bilge
Like a sea-coot, whence heaving her again, 580
The seamen gave her to be fishes' food,
And I survived to mourn her. But the winds
And rolling billows them bore to the coast
Of Ithaca, where with his proper goods
Laertes bought me. By such means it chanced
That e'er I saw the isle in which I dwell.
To whom Ulysses, glorious Chief, replied.
Eumæus! thou hast moved me much, thy woes
Enumerating thus at large. But Jove
Hath neighbour'd all thy evil with this good, 590
That after num'rous sorrows thou hast reach'd
The house of a kind master, at whose hands
Thy sustenance is sure, and here thou lead'st
A tranquil life; but I have late arrived,
City after city of the world explored.
Thus mutual they conferr'd, nor leisure found
Save for short sleep, by morning soon surprized.
Meantime the comrades of Telemachus
Approaching land, cast loose the sail, and lower'd
Alert the mast, then oar'd the vessel in. 600
The anchors heav'd aground, and hawsers tied
Secure, themselves, forth-issuing on the shore,
Breakfast prepared, and charged their cups with wine.
When neither hunger now, nor thirst remained
Unsatisfied, Telemachus began.
Push ye the sable bark without delay
Home to the city. I will to the field
Among my shepherds, and, (my rural works
Survey'd,) at eve will to the town return.
To-morrow will I set before you wine 610
And plenteous viands, wages of your toil.
To whom the godlike Theoclymenus.
Whither must I, my son? who, of the Chiefs
Of rugged Ithaca, shall harbour me?
Shall I to thine and to thy mother's house?
Then thus Telemachus, discrete, replied.
I would invite thee to proceed at once
To our abode, since nought should fail thee there
Of kind reception, but it were a course
Now not adviseable; for I must myself, 620
Be absent, neither would my mother's eyes
Behold thee, so unfrequent she appears
Before the suitors, shunning whom, she sits
Weaving continual at the palace-top.
But I will name to thee another Chief
Whom thou may'st seek, Eurymachus, the son
Renown'd of prudent Polybus, whom all
The people here reverence as a God.
Far noblest of them all is he, and seeks
More ardent than his rivals far, to wed 630
My mother, and to fill my father's throne.
But, He who dwells above, Jove only knows
If some disastrous day be not ordain'd
For them, or ere those nuptials shall arrive.
While thus he spake, at his right hand appear'd,
Messenger of Apollo, on full wing,
A falcon; in his pounces clench'd he bore
A dove, which rending, down he pour'd her plumes
Between the galley and Telemachus.
Then, calling him apart, the prophet lock'd 640
His hand in his, and thus explain'd the sign.
Not undirected by the Gods his flight
On our right hand, Telemachus! this hawk
Hath wing'd propitious; soon as I perceived
I knew him ominous--In all the isle
No family of a more royal note
Than yours is found, and yours shall still prevail.
Whom thus Telemachus answer'd discrete.
Grant heav'n, my guest! that this good word of thine
Fail not, and soon thou shalt such bounty share 650
And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,
Whoe'er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.
Then, to Piræus thus, his friend approved.
Piræus, son of Clytius! (for of all
My followers to the shore of Pylus, none
More prompt than thou hath my desires perform'd)
Now also to thy own abode conduct
This stranger, whom with hospitable care
Cherish and honour till myself arrive.
To whom Piræus answer'd, spear-renown'd. 660
Telemachus! however long thy stay,
Punctual I will attend him, and no want
Of hospitality shall he find with me.
So saying, he climb'd the ship, then bade the crew
Embarking also, cast the hawsers loose,
And each, obedient, to his bench repair'd.
Meantime Telemachus his sandals bound,
And lifted from the deck his glitt'ring spear.
Then, as Telemachus had bidden them,
Son of divine Ulysses, casting loose 670
The hawsers, forth they push'd into the Deep
And sought the city, while with nimble pace
Proceeding thence, Telemachus attain'd
The cottage soon where good Eumæus slept,
The swine-herd, faithful to his num'rous charge.
FOOTNOTES:
Iphyclus the son of Phylacus had seized and detained cattle
belonging to Neleus; Neleus ordered his nephew Melampus to recover them,
and as security for his obedience seized on a considerable part of his
possessions. Melampus attempted the service, failed, and was cast into
prison; but at length escaping, accomplished his errand, vanquished
Neleus in battle, and carried off his daughter Pero, whom Neleus had
promised to the brother
of Melampus, but had afterward refused her.
His wife Eryphyle, bribed by Polynices, persuaded him, though aware
that death awaited him at that city, to go to Thebes, where he fell
accordingly.
She is said to have hanged herself.
Not improbably the isthmus of Syracuse, an island, perhaps, or
peninsula at that period, or at least imagined to be such by Homer. The
birth of Diana gave fame to Ortygia. F.
Ὅθι τροπαὶ ἠελίοιο--The Translator has rendered the passage
according to that interpretation of it to which several of the best
expositors incline. Nothing can be so absurd as to suppose that Homer, so
correct in his geography, could mean to place a Mediterranean island
under the Tropic.
A principal city of Phœnicia.
The anchors were lodged on the shore, not plunged as ours.
BOOK XVI
ARGUMENT
Telemachus dispatches Eumæus to the city to inform Penelope of his safe
return from Pylus; during his absence, Ulysses makes himself known to his
son. The suitors, having watched for Telemachus in vain, arrive again at
Ithaca.
It was the hour of dawn, when in the cot
Kindling fresh fire, Ulysses and his friend
Noble Eumæus dress'd their morning fare,
And sent the herdsmen with the swine abroad.
Seeing Telemachus, the watchful dogs
Bark'd not, but fawn'd around him. At that sight,
And at the sound of feet which now approach'd,
Ulysses in wing'd accents thus remark'd.
Eumæus! certain, either friend of thine
Is nigh at hand, or one whom well thou know'st; 10
Thy dogs bark not, but fawn on his approach
Obsequious, and the sound of feet I hear.
Scarce had he ceased, when his own son himself
Stood in the vestibule. Upsprang at once
Eumæus wonder-struck, and from his hand
Let fall the cups with which he was employ'd
Mingling rich wine; to his young Lord he ran,
His forehead kiss'd, kiss'd his bright-beaming eyes
And both his hands, weeping profuse the while,
As when a father folds in his embrace 20
Arrived from foreign lands in the tenth year
His darling son, the offspring of his age,
His only one, for whom he long hath mourn'd,
So kiss'd the noble peasant o'er and o'er
Godlike Telemachus, as from death escaped,
And in wing'd accents plaintive thus began.
