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The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

Page 140

by George Chapman


  ‭ Your here arrival was not all by shore,

  ‭ Nor that your feet your agéd person bore.”

  ‭ He answer’d him: “I’ll tell all strictly true,

  ‭ If time, and food, and wine enough, accrue

  ‭ Within your roof to us, that freely we

  ‭ May sit and banquet. Let your business be

  ‭ Discharg’d by others; for, when all is done,

  ‭ I cannot easily, while the year doth run

  ‭ His circle round, run over all the woes,

  ‭ Beneath which, by the course the Gods dispose,

  ‭ My sad age labours. First, I’ll tell you then,

  ‭ From ample Crete I fetch my native strain;

  ‭ My father wealthy, whose house many a life

  ‭ Brought forth and bred besides by his true wife,

  ‭ But me a bond-maid bore, his concubine.

  ‭ Yet tender’d was I as his lawful line

  ‭ By him of whose race I my life profess.

  ‭ Castor his name, surnam’d Hylacides.

  ‭ A man, in fore-times, by the Cretan state,

  ‭ For goods, good children, and his fortunate

  ‭ Success in all acts, of no mean esteem.

  ‭ But death-conferring Fates have banish’d him

  ‭ To Pluto’s kingdom. After whom, his sons

  ‭ By lots divided his possessions,

  ‭ And gave me passing little; yet bestow’d

  ‭ A house on me, to which my virtues woo’d

  ‭ A wife from rich men’s roofs; nor was borne low,

  ‭ Nor last in fight, though all nerves fail me now.

  ‭ But I suppose, that you, by thus much seen,

  ‭ Know by the stubble what the corn hath been.

  ‭ For, past all doubt, affliction past all mean

  ‭ Hath brought my age on; but, in seasons past,

  ‭ Both Mars and Pallas have with boldness grac’d,

  ‭ And fortitude, my fortunes, when I chus’d

  ‭ Choice men for ambush, prest to have produc’d

  ‭ Ill to mine enemies; my too vent’rous spirit

  ‭ Set never death before mine eyes, for merit,

  ‭ But, far the first advanc’d still, still I strook

  ‭ Dead with my lance whoever overtook

  ‭ My speed of foot. Such was I then for war.

  ‭ But rustic actions ever fled me far,

  ‭ And household thrift, which breeds a famous race.

  ‭ In oar-driv’n ships did I my pleasures place,

  ‭ In battles, light darts, arrows. Sad things all,

  ‭ And into others’ thoughts with horror fall.

  ‭ But what God put into my mind, to me

  ‭ I still esteem’d as my felicity.

  ‭ As men of sev’ral metals are address’d,

  ‭ So sev’ral forms are in their souls impress’d.

  ‭ Before the sons of Greece set foot in Troy,

  ‭ Nine times, in chief, I did command enjoy

  ‭ Of men and ships against our foreign foe,

  ‭ And all I fitly wish’d succeeded so.

  ‭ Yet, after this, I much exploit achiev’d,

  ‭ When straight my house in all possessions thriv’d.

  ‭ Yet, after that, I great and rev’rend grew

  ‭ Amongst the Cretans, till the Thund’rer drew

  ‭ Our forces out in his foe-Troy decrees;

  ‭ A hateful service that dissolv’d the knees

  ‭ Of many a soldier. And to this was I,

  ‭ And famous Idomen, enjoin’d t’ apply

  ‭ Our ships and pow’rs, Nor was there to be heard

  ‭ One reason for denial, so preferr’d

  ‭ Was the unreasonable people’s rumour.

  ‭ Nine years we therefore fed the martial humour,

  ‭ And in the tenth, de-peopling Priam’s town,

  ‭ We sail’d for home. But God had quickly blown

  ‭ Our fleet in pieces; and to wretched me

  ‭ The counsellor Jove did much mishap decree,

  ‭ For, only one month, I had leave t’ enjoy

  ‭ My wife and children, and my goods t’ employ.

  ‭ But, after this, my mind for Ægypt stood,

  ‭ When nine fair ships I rigg’d forth for the flood,

  ‭ Mann’d them with noble soldiers, all things fit

  ‭ For such a voyage soon were won to it.

  ‭ Yet six days after stay’d my friends in feast,

  ‭ While I in banquets to the Gods addrest

  ‭ Much sacred matter for their sacrifice.

  ‭ The seventh, we boarded; and the Northern skies

  ‭ Lent us a frank and passing prosp’rous gale,

  ‭ ‘Fore which we bore us free and easy sail

  ‭ As we had back’d a full and frolic tide;

  ‭ Nor felt one ship misfortune for her pride,

  ‭ But safe we sat, our sailors and the wind

  ‭ Consenting in our convoy. When heav’n shin’d

  ‭ In sacred radiance of the fifth fair day,

  ‭ To sweetly-water’d Egypt reach’d our way,

  ‭ And there we anchor’d; where I charg’d my men

  ‭ To stay aboard, and watch. Dismissing then

  ‭ Some scouts to get the hill-tops, and discover,

  ‭ They (to their own intemperance giv’n over).

  ‭ Straight fell to forage the rich fields, and thence

  ‭ Enforce both wives and infants, with th’ expence

  ‭ Of both their bloods. When straight the rumour flew

  ‭ Up to the city. Which heard, up they drew

  ‭ By day’s First break, and all the field was fill’d

  ‭ With foot and horse, whose arms did all things gild.

  ‭ And then the lightning-loving Deity cast

  ‭ A foul flight on my soldiers; nor stood fast

  ‭ One man of all. About whom mischief stood,

  ‭ And with his stern steel drew in streams the blood

  ‭ The greater part fed in their dissolute veins;

  ‭ The rest were sav’d, and made enthralléd swains

  ‭ To all the basest usages there bred.

  ‭ And then, ev’n Jove himself supplied my head

  ‭ With saving counsel; though I wish’d to die,

  ‭ And there in Egypt with their slaughters lie,

  ‭ So much grief seiz’d me, but Jove made me yield,

  ‭ Dishelm my head, take from my neck my shield,

  ‭ Hurl from my hand my lance, and to the troop

  ‭ Of horse the king led instantly made up,

  ‭ Embrace, and kiss his knees; whom pity won

  ‭ To give me safety, and (to make me shun

  ‭ The people’s outrage, that made in amain,

  ‭ All jointly fir’d with thirst to see me slain)

  ‭ He took me to his chariot, weeping, home,

  ‭ Himself with fear of Jove’s wrath overcome,

  ‭ Who yielding souls receives, and takes most ill

  ‭ All such as well may save yet love to kill.

  ‭ Seven years I sojourn’d here, and treasure gat

  ‭ In good abundance of th’ Ægyptian state,

  ‭ For all would give; but when th’ eighth year began,

  ‭ A knowing fellow (that would gnaw a man 3

  ‭ Like to a vermin, with his hellish brain,

  ‭ And many an honest soul ev’n quick had slain,

  ‭ Whose name was Phœnix) close accosted me,

  ‭ And with insinuations, such as he

  ‭ Practis’d on others, my consent he gain’d

  ‭ To go into Phœnicia, where remain’d

  ‭ His house, and living. And with him I liv’d

  ‭ A cómplete year; but when were all arriv’d

  ‭ The months and days, and that the year again

  ‭ Was turning round, and ev’
ry season’s reign

  ‭ Renew’d upon us, we for Libya went,

  ‭ When, still inventing crafts to circumvent,

  ‭ He made pretext, that I should only go

  ‭ And help convey his freight; but thought not so,

  ‭ For his intent was to have sold me there,

  ‭ And made good gain for finding me a year.

  ‭ Yet him I follow’d, though suspecting this,

  ‭ For, being aboard his ship, I must be his

  ‭ Of strong necessity. She ran the flood

  ‭ (Driven with a northern gale, right free, and good)

  ‭ Amids the full stream, full on Crete. But then

  ‭ Jove plotted death to him and all his men,

  ‭ For (put off quite from Crete, and so far gone

  ‭ That shore was lost, and we set eye on none,

  ‭ But all show’d heav’n and sea) above our keel

  ‭ Jove pointed right a cloud as black as hell,

  ‭ Beneath which all the sea hid, and from whence

  ‭ Jove thunder’d as his hand would never thence,

  ‭ And thick into our ship he threw his flash; 4

  ‭ That ‘gainst a rock, or flat, her keel did dash

  ‭ With headlong rapture. Of the sulphur all

  ‭ Her bulk did savour; and her men let fall

  ‭ Amids the surges, on which all lay tost,

  ‭ Like sea-gulls, round about her sides, and lost.

  ‭ And so God took all home-return from them.

  ‭ But Jove himself, though plung’d in that extreme,

  ‭ Recover’d me by thrusting on my hand

  ‭ The ship’s long mast. And, that my life might stand

  ‭ A little more up, I embrac’d it round;

  ‭ And on the rude winds, that did ruins sound,

  ‭ Nine days we hover’d. In the tenth black night

  ‭ A huge sea cast me on Thesprotia’s height,

  ‭ Where the heroë Phidon, that was chief

  ‭ Of all the Thesprots, gave my wrack relief,

  ‭ Without the price of that redemptión 5

  ‭ That Phœnix fish’d for. Where the king’s lov’d son

  ‭ Came to me, took me by the hand, and led

  ‭ Into his court my poor life, surfeited

  ‭ With cold and labour; and because my wrack

  ‭ Chanc’d on his father’s shore, he let not lack

  ‭ My plight or coat, or cloak, or anything

  ‭ Might cherish heat in me. And here the king

  ‭ Said, he receiv’d Ulysses as his guest,

  ‭ Observ’d him friend-like, and his course addrest

  ‭ Home to his country, showing there to me

  ‭ Ulysses’ goods, a very treasury

  ‭ Of brass, and gold, and steel of curious frame.

  ‭ And to the tenth succession of his name

  ‭ He laid up wealth enough, to serve beside

  ‭ In that king’s house, so hugely amplified

  ‭ His treasure was. But from his court the king

  ‭ Affirm’d him shipp’d for the Dodonean spring,

  ‭ To hear, from out the high-hair’d oak of Jove,

  ‭ Counsel from him for means to his remove

  ‭ To his lov’d country, whence so many a year

  ‭ He had been absent; if he should appear

  ‭ Disguis’d, or manifest; and further swore

  ‭ In his mid court, at sacrifice, before

  ‭ These very eyes, that he had ready there

  ‭ Both ship and soldiers, to attend and bear

  ‭ Him to his country. But, before, it chanc’d

  ‭ That a Thesprotian ship was to be launch’d

  ‭ For the much-corn-renown’d Dulichian land,

  ‭ In which the king gave to his men command

  ‭ To take, and bring me under tender hand

  ‭ To king Acastus. But, in ill design

  ‭ Of my poor life, did their desires combine,

  ‭ So far forth, as might ever keep me under

  ‭ In fortune’s hands, and tear my state in sunder.

  ‭ And when the water-treader far away

  ‭ Had left the land, then plotted they the day

  ‭ Of my long servitude, and took from me

  ‭ Both coat and cloak, and all things that might be

  ‭ Grace in my habit, and in place put on

  ‭ These tatter’d rags, which now you see upon

  ‭ My wretched bosom. When heav’n’s light took sea, 6

  ‭ They fetch’d the field-works of fair Ithaca,

  ‭ And in the arm’d ship, with a well-wreath’d cord,

  ‭ They straitly bound me, and did all disboard

  ‭ To shore to supper, in contentious rout.

  ‭ Yet straight the Gods themselves took from about

  ‭ My pressed limbs the bands, with equal ease,

  ‭ And I, my head in rags wrapp’d, took the seas,

  ‭ Descending by the smooth stern, using then

  ‭ My hands for oars, and made from these bad men

  ‭ Long way in little time. At last, I fetch’d

  ‭ A goodly grove of oaks, whose shore I reach’d,

  ‭ And cast me prostrate on it. When they knew

  ‭ My thus-made ‘scape, about the shores they flew,

  ‭ But, soon not finding, held it not their best

  ‭ To seek me further, but return’d to rest

  ‭ Aboard their vessel. Me the Gods lodg’d close,

  ‭ Conducting me into the safe repose

  ‭ A good man’s stable yielded. And thus Fate

  ‭ This poor hour added to my living date.”

  ‭ “O wretch of guests,” said he, “thy tale hath stirr’d

  ‭ My mind to much ruth, both how thou hast err’d,

  ‭ And suffer’d, hearing in such good parts shown.

  ‭ But, what thy chang’d relation would make known

  ‭ About Ulysses, I hold neither true,

  ‭ Nor will believe. And what need’st thou pursue

  ‭ A lie so rashly, since he sure is so

  ‭ As I conceive, for which my skill shall go?

  ‭ The safe return my king lacks cannot be,

  ‭ He is so envied of each Deity,

  ‭ So clear, so cruelly. For not in Troy

  ‭ They gave him end, nor let his corpse enjoy

  ‭ The hands of friends (which well they might have done,

  ‭ He manag’d arms to such perfection,

  ‭ And should have had his sepulchre, and all,

  ‭ And all the Greeks to grace his funeral,

  ‭ And this had giv’n a glory to his son

  ‭ Through all times future) but his head is run

  ‭ Unseen, unhonour’d, into Harpies’ maws.

  ‭ For my part, I’ll not meddle with the cause,

  ‭ I live a separate life amongst my swine,

  ‭ Come at no town for any need of mine,

  ‭ Unless the circularly-witted queen 7

  ‭ (When any far-come guest is to be seen

  ‭ That brings her news) commands me bring a brawn,

  ‭ About which (all things being in question drawn,

  ‭ That touch the king) they sit, and some are sad

  ‭ For his long absence, some again are glad

  ‭ To waste his goods unwreak’d, all talking still.

  ‭ But, as for me, I nourish’d little will

  ‭ T’ inquire or question of him, since the man

  ‭ That feign’d himself the fled Ætolian,

  ‭ For slaught’ring one, through many regions stray’d,

  ‭ In my stall, as his diversory, stay’d.

  ‭ Where well entreating him, he told me then,

  ‭ Amongst the Cretans, with king Idomen,

  ‭ He saw Ulysses at his ship’s repair,

  ‭ That had been brush’d with the enragéd air;


  ‭ And that in summer, or in autumn, sure,

  ‭ With all his brave friends and rich furniture,

  ‭ He would be here; and nothing so, nor so.

  ‭ But thou, an old man, taught with so much woe

  ‭ As thou hast suffer’d, to be season’d true,

  ‭ And brought by his fate, do not here pursue

  ‭ His gratulations with thy cunning lies,

  ‭ 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 me 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 lovéd mind

  ‭ Force from thy bones? Or how should stand inclin’d

  ‭ With any faith my will t’ importune Jove,

  ‭ In any pray’r 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 altogether 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.”

 

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