Your life’s price I lent, and you owe it me.”
The varied-in-all-counsels gave reply:
“Nausicaa! Flow’r of all this empery!
So Juno’s husband, that the strife for noise
Makes in the clouds, bless me with strife of joys,
In the desir’d day that my house shall show,
As I, as I to a Goddess there shall vow,
To thy fair hand that did my being give,
Which I’ll acknowledge ev’ry hour I live.”
This said, Alcinous plac’d him by his side.
Then took they feast, and did in parts divide
The sev’ral dishes, fill’d out wine, and then
The striv’d-for-for-his-worth of worthy men, 9
And rev’renc’d-of-the-state, Demodocus
Was brought in by the good Pontonous.
In midst of all the guests they gave him place,
Against a lofty pillar, when this grace
The grac’d-with-wisdom did him: From the chine,
That stood before him, of a white-tooth’d swine,
Being far the daintiest joint, mix’d through with fat,
He carv’d to him, and sent it where he sat
By his old friend the herald, willing thus:
“Herald, reach this to grave Demodocus,
Say, I salute him, and his worth embrace.
Poets deserve, past all the human race,
Rev’rend respect and honour, since the queen
Of knowledge, and the supreme worth in men,
The Muse, informs them, and loves all their race.”
This reach’d the herald to him, who the grace
Receiv’d encourag’d; which, when feast was spent,
Ulysses amplified to this ascent:
“Demodocus! I must prefer you far,
Past all your sort, if, or the Muse of war,
Jove’s daughter, prompts you, that the Greeks respects,
Or if the Sun, that those of Troy affects.
For I have heard you, since my coming, sing
The fate of Greece to an admiréd string.
How much our suff’rance was, how much we wrought,
How much the actions rose-to when we fought.
So lively forming, as you had been there,
Or to some free relater lent your ear.
Forth then, and sing the wooden horse’s frame,
Built by Epëus, by the martial Dame
Taught the whole fabric; which, by force of sleight,
Ulysses brought into the city’s height,
When he had stuff’d it with as many men
As levell’d lofty Ilion with the plain.
With all which if you can as well enchant,
As with expression quick and elegant
You sung the rest, I will pronounce you clear
Inspir’d by God, past all that ever were.”
This said, ev’n stirr’d by God up, he began,
And to his song fell, past the forms of man,
Beginning where the Greeks aship-board went,
And ev’ry chief had set on fire his tent,
When th’ other kings, in great Ulysses’ guide,
In Troy’s vast market place the horse did hide,
From whence the Trojans up to Ilion drew
The dreadful engine. Where sat all arew
Their kings about it; many counsels giv’n
How to dispose it. In three ways were driv’n
Their whole distractions. First, if they should feel
The hollow wood’s heart, search’d with piercing steel;
Or from the battlements drawn higher yet
Deject it headlong; or that counterfeit
So vast and novel set on sacred fire,
Vow’d to appease each anger’d Godhead’s ire.
On which opinion, they, thereafter, saw,
They then should have resolv’d; th’ unalter’d law
Of fate presaging, that Troy then should end,
When th’ hostile horse she should receive to friend,
For therein should the Grecian kings lie hid,
To bring the fate and death they after did.
He sung, besides, the Greeks’ eruptión
From those their hollow crafts, and horse foregone;
And how they made depopulation tread
Beneath her feet so high a city’s head.
In which affair, he sung in other place,
That of that ambush some man else did race
The Ilion tow’rs than Laertiades;
But here he sung, that he alone did seize, 10
With Menelaus, the ascended roof
Of prince Deiphobus, and Mars-like proof
Made of his valour, a most dreadful fight
Daring against him; and there vanquish’d quite,
In little time, by great Minerva’s aid,
All Ilion’s remnant, and Troy level laid.
This the divine expressor did so give
Both act and passion, that he made it live,
And to Ulysses’ facts did breathe a fire
So deadly quick’ning, that it did inspire 11
Old death with life, and render’d life so sweet,
And passionate, that all there felt it fleet;
Which made him pity his own cruelty,
And put into that ruth so pure an eye
Of human frailty, that to see a man
Could so revive from death, yet no way can
Defend from death, his own quick pow’rs it made
Feel there death’s horrors, and he felt life fade,
In tears his feeling brain swet; for, in things 12
That move past utt’rance, tears ope all their springs.
Nor are there in the pow’rs that all life bears
More true interpreters of all than tears.
And as a lady mourns her sole-lov’d lord,
That fall’n before his city by the sword,
Fighting to rescue from a cruel fate
His town and children, and in dead estate
Yet panting seeing him, wraps him in her arms,
Weeps, shrieks, and pours her health into his arms,
Lies on him, striving to become his shield
From foes that still assail him, spears impell’d
Through back and shoulders, by whose points embrued,
They raise and lead him into servitude,
Labour, and languor; for all which the dame
Eats down her cheeks with tears, and feeds life’s flame
With miserable suff’rance; so this king
Of tear-swet anguish op’d a boundless spring;
Nor yet was seen to any one man there
But king Alcinous, who sat so near
He could not ‘scape him, sighs, so chok’d, so brake
From all his tempers; which the king did take
Both note and grave respect of, and thus spake:
“Hear me, Phæacian councillors and peers,
And cease Demodocus; perhaps all ears
Are not delighted with his song, for, ever
Since the divine Muse sung, ‘our guest hath never
Contain’d from secret mournings. It may fall,
That something sung he hath been grieved with all,
As touching his particular. Forbear,
That feast may jointly comfort all hearts here,
And we may cheer our guest up; ’tis our best
In all due honour. For our rev’rend gue
st
Is all our celebration, gifts, and all,
His love hath added to our festival.
A guest, and suppliant too, we should esteem
Dear as our brother, one that doth but dream
He hath a soul, or touch but at a mind
Deathless and manly, should stand so inclin’d.
Nor cloak you longer with your curious wit,
Lov’d guest, what ever we shall ask of it.
It now stands on your honest state to tell,
And therefore give your name, nor more conceal
What of your parents, and the town that bears
Name of your native, or of foreigners
That near us border, you are call’d in fame.
There’s no man living walks without a name,
Noble nor base, but had one from his birth
Impos’d as fit as to be borne. What earth,
People, and city, own you, give to know.
Tell but our ships all, that your way must show.
For our ships know th’ expressed minds of men,
And will so most intentively retain
Their scopes appointed, that they never err,
And yet use never any man to steer,
Nor any rudders have, as others need.
They know men’s thoughts, and whither tends their speed,
And there will set them; for you cannot name 13
A city to them, nor fat soil, that Fame
Hath any notice giv’n, but well they know,
And they will fly to them, though they ebb and flow
In blackest clouds and nights; and never bear
Of any wrack or rock the slend’rest fear.
But this I heard my sire Nausithous say.
Long since, that Neptune, seeing us convey
So safely passengers of all degrees,
Was angry with us; and upon our seas
A well-built ship we had, near harbour come
From safe deduction of some stranger home,
Made in his flitting billows stick stone still;
And dimm’d our city, like a mighty hill
With shade cast round about it. This report,
The old king made; 14 in which miraculous sort,
If God had done such things, or left undone,
At his good pleasure be it. But now, on,
And truth relate us, both whence you err’d,
And to what clime of men would be transferr’d,
With all their fair towns, be they as they are,
If rude, unjust, and all irregular,
Or hospitable, bearing minds that please
The mighty Deity. Which one of these
You would be set at, say, and you are there.
And therefore what afflicts you? Why, to hear
The fate of Greece and Ilion, mourn you so?
The Gods have done it; as to all they do
Destine destruction, that from thence may rise
A poem to instruct posterities.
Fell any kinsman before Ilion?
Some worthy sire-in-law, or like-near son,
Whom next our own blood and self-race we love?
Or any friend perhaps, in whom did move
A knowing soul, and no unpleasing thing?
Since such a good one is no underling
To any brother; for, what fits true friends,
True wisdom is, that blood and birth transcends.
FINIS LIBRI OCTAVI HOM. ODYSS.
ENDNOTES.
1 The continued piety of Ulysses through all places, times, and occasions.
2 Since the Phæacians were not only dwellers by sea, but studious also of sea qualities, their names seem to usurp their faculties therein. All consisting of sea-faring signification, except Laodamas, As Acroneus, summa seu extrema navis pars. Ocyalus, velox in mari. Elatreus, or ᾽Ελατὴρ, ἐλατη̑ρος, Remex, etc.
3 The word is πομπή, signifying deductio, quâ trausvehendum curamus eum qui nobiscum aliquando est versatus.
4 ᾽Ατάσθαλος damnorum magnorum auctor.
5 He names Laodamas only for all the other brothers; since in his exception, the others’ envies were curbed: for brothers either are or should be of one acceptation in all fit things, And Laodamas, he calls his host, being eldest son to Alcinous: the heir being ever the young master; nor might he conveniently prefer Alcinous in his exception, since he stood not in competition at these contentions.
6 Μαρμαρυγὰς ποδω̑ν. Μαρμαρυγὴ signifies splendor vibrans; a twincked splendor; μαρμαρύσσειν, vibrare veluti radios solares.
7 Intending the sound of foot, when they outgo the soundest.
8 This is τὸ τὰ μικρὰ μεγάλως, etc. Parva magnè dicere; grave sentence out of lightest vapour.
9 ‘Ερίηρον ἀοιδὸν, Poetam cujus hominibus digna est societas.
10 As by the divine fury directly inspired so, for Ulysses’ glory.
11 In that the slaughters he made were expressed so lively.
12 Τήκετο ᾽Οδυσσεύς. Τήκω, metaph. signifying consumo, tabesco.
13 This τερατολογία or affirmation of miracles, how impossible soever in these times assured, yet in those ages they were neither absurd nor strange. Those inanimate things having (it seemed) certain Genii, in whose powers they supposed their ships’ faculties. As others have affirmed oaks to have sense of hearing; and so the ship of Argos was said to have a mast made of Dodonean oak, that was vocal, and could speak.
14 Intending his father Nausithous.
THE NINTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS
THE ARGUMENT
Ulysses here is first made known;
Who tells the stern contention
His pow’rs did ‘gainst the Cicons try;
And thence to the Lotophagi
Extends his conquest; and from them
Assays the Cyclop Polypheme,
And, by the crafts his wits apply,
He puts him out his only eye.
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
᾿Ιω̑τα.
The strangely fed
Lotophagi.
The Cicons fled.
The Cyclop’s eye.
Ulysses thus resolv’d the king’s demands:
“Alcinous, in whom this empire stands,
You should not of so natural right disherit
Your princely feast, as take from it the spirit.
To hear a poet, that in accent brings
The Gods’ breasts down, and breathes them as he sings,
Is sweet, and sacred; nor can I conceive,
In any common-weal, what more doth give
Note of the just and blessed empery,
Than to see comfort universally
Cheer up the people, when in ev’ry roof
She gives observers a most human proof
Of men’s contents. To see a neighbour’s feast
Adorn it through; and thereat hear the breast
Of the divine Muse; men in order set;
A wine-page waiting; tables crown’d with meat,
Set close to guests that are to use it skill’d;
The cup-boards furnish’d, and the cups still fill’d;
This shows, to my mind, most humanely fair.
Nor should you, for me, still the heav’nly air,
That stirr’d my soul so; for I love such tears
As fall from fit notes, beaten through mine ears
With repetitions of what heav’n hath done,
And break from hearty apprehensión
&nb
sp; Of God and goodness, though they show my ill.
And therefore doth my mind excite me still,
To tell my bleeding moan; but much more now,
To serve your pleasure, that to over-flow
My tears with such cause may by sighs be driv’n,
Though ne’er so much plagued I may seem by heav’n.
And now my name; which way shall lead to all
My mis’ries after, that their sounds may fall
Through your ears also, and show (having fled
So much affliction) first, who rests his head
In your embraces, when, so far from home,
I knew not where t’ obtain it resting room.
I am Ulysses Laertiades,
The fear of all the world for policies,
For which my facts as high as heav’n resound.
I dwell in Ithaca, earth’s most renown’d,
All over-shadow’d with the shake-leaf hill, 1
Tree-fam’d Neritus; whose near confines fill
Islands a number, well-inhabited,
That under my observance taste their bread;
Dulichius, Samos, and the full-of-food 2
Zacynthus, likewise grac’d with store of wood.
But Ithaca, though in the seas it lie,
Yet lies she so aloft she casts her eye
Quite over all the neighbour continent;
Far northward situate, and, being lent
But little favour of the morn and sun,
With barren rocks and cliffs is over-run;
And yet of hardy youths a nurse of name;
Nor could I see a soil, where’er I came,
More sweet and wishful. Yet, from hence was I
Withheld with horror by the Deity,
Divine Calypso, in her cavy house,
Enflam’d to make me her sole lord and spouse.
Circe Ææa too, that knowing dame,
Whose veins the like affections did enflame,
Detain’d me likewise. But to neither’s love
Could I be tempted; which doth well approve,
Nothing so sweet is as our country’s earth, 3
And joy of those from whom we claim our birth.
Though roofs far richer we far off possess,
Yet, from our native, all our more is less.
To which as I contended, I will tell
The much-distress-conferring facts that fell
By Jove’s divine prevention, since I set
From ruin’d Troy my first foot in retreat.
From Ilion ill winds cast me on the coast
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 126
