by Homer
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 560
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, 570
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. 580
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! 590
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 600
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 610
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, 620
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, 630
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 640
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 650
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 660
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, 670
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 680
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. 690
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 two gates
Through which the fleeting phantoms pass; of horn
Is one, and one of ivory. Such dreams 700
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, 710
This day, the rings for trial to them all
Of archership; Ulysses' custom was
To plant twelve spikes, 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 720
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
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
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
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.
FOOTNOTES:
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.
BOOK XX
ARGUMENT
Ulysses, doubting whether he shall destroy or not the women servants who
commit lewdness with the suitors, resolves at length to spare them for
the present. He asks an omen from Jupiter, and that he would grant him
also to hear some propitious words from the lips of one in the family.
His petitions are both answered. Preparation is made for the feast.
Whilst the suitors sit at table, Pallas smites them with a horrid frenzy.
Theoclymenus, observing the strange effects of it, prophesies their
destruction, and they deride his prophecy.
But in the vestibule the Hero lay
On a bull's-hide undress'd, o'er which he spread
The fleece of many a sheep slain by the Greeks,
And, cover'd by the household's governess
With a wide cloak, composed himself to rest.
Yet slept he not, but meditating lay
Woe to his enemies. Meantime, the train
Of women, wonted to the suitors' arms,
Issuing all mirth and laughter, in his soul
A tempest raised of doubts, whether at once 10
To slay, or to permit them yet to give
Their lusty paramours one last embrace.
As growls the mastiff standing on the start
For battle, if a stranger's foot approach
Her cubs new-whelp'd--so growl'd Ulysses' heart,
While wonder fill'd him at their impious deeds.
But, smiting on his breast, thus he reproved
The mutinous inhabitant within.
Heart! bear it. Worse than this thou didst endure
When, uncontroulable by force of man, 20
The Cyclops thy illustrious friends devour'd.
Thy patience then fail'd not, till prudence found
Deliv'rance for thee on the brink of fate.
So disciplined the Hero his own heart,
Which, tractable, endured the rigorous curb,
And patient; yet he turn'd from side to side.
As when some hungry swain turns oft a maw
Unctuous and sav'ry on the burning coals,
Quick expediting his desired repast,
So he from side to side roll'd, pond'ring deep 30
How likeliest with success he might assail
Those shameless suitors; one to many opposed.
Then, sudden from the skies descending, came
Minerva in a female form; her stand
Above his head she took, and thus she spake.
Why sleep'st thou not, unhappiest of mankind?
Thou art at home; here dwells thy wife, and here
Thy son; a son, whom all might wish their own.
Then her Ulysses answer'd, ever-wise.
O Goddess! true is all that thou hast said, 40
But, not without anxiety, I muse
How, single as I am, I shall assail
Those shameless suitors who frequent my courts
Daily; and always their whole multitude.
This weightier theme I meditate beside;
Should I, with Jove's concurrence and with thine
Prevail to slay them, how shall I escape,
Myself, at last? oh Goddess, weigh it well.
Him answer'd then Pallas cærulean-eyed.
Oh faithless man!
a man will in his friend 50
Confide, though mortal, and in valour less
And wisdom than himself; but I who keep
Thee in all difficulties, am divine.
I tell thee plainly. Were we hemm'd around
By fifty troops of shouting warriors bent
To slay thee, thou should'st yet securely drive
The flocks away and cattle of them all.
But yield to sleep's soft influence; for to lie
All night thus watchful, is, itself, distress.
Fear not. Deliv'rance waits, not far remote. 60
So saying, she o'er Ulysses' eyes diffused
Soft slumbers, and when sleep that sooths the mind
And nerves the limbs afresh had seized him once,
To the Olympian summit swift return'd.
But his chaste spouse awoke; she weeping sat
On her soft couch, and, noblest of her sex,
Satiate at length with tears, her pray'r address'd
First to Diana of the Pow'rs above.
Diana, awful progeny of Jove!
I would that with a shaft this moment sped 70
Into my bosom, thou would'st here conclude
My mournful life! or, oh that, as it flies,
Snatching me through the pathless air, a storm
Would whelm me deep in Ocean's restless tide!
So, when the Gods their parents had destroy'd,
Storms suddenly the beauteous daughters snatch'd
Of Pandarus away; them left forlorn
Venus with curds, with honey and with wine
Fed duly; Juno gave them to surpass
All women in the charms of face and mind, 80
With graceful stature eminent the chaste
Diana bless'd them, and in works of art
Illustrious, Pallas taught them to excel.
But when the foam-sprung Goddess to the skies
A suitress went on their behalf, to obtain
Blest nuptials for them from the Thund'rer Jove,
(For Jove the happiness, himself, appoints,
And the unhappiness of all below)
Meantime, the Harpies ravishing away
Those virgins, gave them to the Furies Three, 90
That they might serve them. O that me the Gods
Inhabiting Olympus so would hide
From human eyes for ever, or bright-hair'd
Diana pierce me with a shaft, that while
Ulysses yet engages all my thoughts,
My days concluded, I might 'scape the pain
Of gratifying some inferior Chief!
This is supportable, when (all the day
To sorrow giv'n) the mourner sleeps at night;
For sleep, when it hath once the eyelids veil'd, 100
