With many an ill hath numb’d and deaded me.
He took life with him, when he took my hand
In parting from me to the Trojan strand,
These words my witness: ‘Woman! I conceive
That not all th’ Achives bound for Troy shall leave
Their native earth their safe returnéd bones,
Fame saying, that Troy trains up approvéd sons
In deeds of arms, brave putters-off of shafts,
For winging lances masters of their crafts,
Unmatchéd riders, swift of foot, and straight
Can arbitrate a war of deadliest weight.
Hope then can scarce fill all with life’s supply,
And of all any failing, why not I?
Nor do I know, if God hath marshall’d me
Amongst the safe-return’d; or his decree
Hath left me to the thraldom order’d there.
However, all cares be thy burthens here,
My sire and mother tend as much as now,
I further off, more near in cares be you.
Your son to man’s state grown, wed whom you will;
And, you gone, his care let his household fill.’
Thus made my lord his will, which Heav’n sees prov’d
Almost at all parts; for the Sun remov’d
Down to his set, ere long, will lead the night
Of those abhorréd nuptials, that should fright
Each worthy woman, which her second are
With any man that breathes, her first lord’s care
Dead, because he to flesh and blood is dead;
Which, I fear, I shall yield to, and so wed
A second husband; and my reason is,
Since Jove hath taken from me all his bliss.
Whom God gives over they themselves forsake,
Their griefs their joys, their God their devil, make.
And ’tis a great grief, nor was seen till now
In any fashion of such men as woo
A good and wealthy woman, and contend
Who shall obtain her, that those men should spend
Her beeves and best sheep, as their chiefest ends,
But rather that herself and all her friends
They should with banquets and rich gifts entreat.
Their life is death that live with other’s meat.”
Divine Ulysses much rejoic’d to hear
His Queen thus fish for gifts, and keep in cheer.
Their hearts with hope that she would wed again,
Her mind yet still her first intent retain.
Antinous saw the Wooers won to give,
And said: “Wise Queen, by all your means receive
Whatever bounty any Wooer shall use.
Gifts freely giv’n ’tis folly to refuse.
For know, that we resolve not to be gone
To keep our own roofs, till of all some one,
Whom best you like, your long-woo’d love shall win.”
This pleas’d the rest, and ev’ry one sent in
His present by the herald. First had place
Antinous’ gift: A robe of special grace,
Exceeding full and fair, and twenty hues
Chang’d lustre to it; to which choice of shows,
Twelve massy plated buttons, all of gold,
Enrich’d the substance, made to fairly hold
The robe together, all lac’d down before,
Where keeps and catches both sides of it wore.
Eurymachus a golden tablet gave,
In which did Art her choicest works engrave;
And round about an amber verge did run,
That cast a radiance from it like the Sun.
Eurydamas two servants had that bore
Two goodly earrings, whose rich hollows wore
Three pearls in either, like so many eyes,
Reflecting glances radiant as the skies.
The king Pisander, great Polyctor’s heir,
A casket gave, exceeding rich and fair.
The other other wealthy gifts commended
To her fair hand; which took, and straight ascended
This Goddess of her sex her upper state.
Her ladies all her gifts elaborate
Up bearing after. All to dancing then
The Wooers went, and song’s delightful strain;
In which they frolick’d, till the evening came,
And then rais’d sable Hesperus his flame.
When, for their lights within, they set up there
Three lamps, whose wicks were wood exceeding sere,
And passing porous; which they caus’d to burn,
Their matter ever minister’d by turn
Of sev’ral handmaids. Whom Ulysses seeing
Too conversant with Wooers, ill-agreeing
With guise of maids, advis’d in this fair sort:
“Maids of your long-lack’d King, keep you the port
Your Queen’s chaste presence bears. Go up to her,
Employ your looms, or rocks, and keep ye there;
I’ll serve to feed these lamps, should these lords’ dances
Last till Aurora cheer’d us with their glances.
They cannot weary me, for I am one
Born to endure when all men else have done.”
They wantonly brake out in laughters all,
Look’d on each other; and to terms did fall
Cheek-proud Melantho, who was Dolius’ seed,
Kept by the Queen, that gave her dainty bread
Fit for her daughter; and yet won not so
Her heart to her to share in any woe
She suffer’d for her lord, but she was great
With great Eurymachus, and her love’s heat
In his bed quench’d. And this choleric thing
Bestow’d this railing language on the King:
“Base stranger, you are taken in your brain,
You talk so wildly. Never you again
Can get where you were born, and seek your bed
In some smith’s hovel, or the marketsted,
But here you must take confidence to prate
Before all these; for fear can get no state
In your wine-hardy stomach. Or ’tis like
To prove your native garb, your tongue will strike
On this side of your mouth still, being at best.
Is the man idle-brain’d for want of rest?
Or proud because he beat the roguish beggar?
Take heed, Sir, lest some better man beleager
Your ears with his fists, and set headlong hence
Your bold abode here with your blood’s expence.”
He, looking sternly on her, answer’d her:
“Dog! What broad language giv’st thou? I’ll prefer
Your usage to the prince, that he may fall
Foul on your fair limbs till he tell them all.”
This fray’d the wenches, and all straight got gone
In fear about their business, ev’ry one
Confessing he said well. But he stood now
Close by the cressets, and did looks bestow
On all men there; his brain employ’d about
Some sharper business than to dance it out,
Which had not long to go. Nor therefore would
Minerva let the Wooers’ spleens grow cold
With too good usuage of him, that his heart
Might fret enough, and make his choler smart.
Eurymachus provok’d him fi
rst, and made
His fellow laugh, with a conceit he had
Fetch’d far from what was spoken long before,
That his poor form perhaps some Deity bore.
“It well may chance,” said he, “some God doth bear
This man’s resemblance, for, thus standing near
The glist’ring torches, his slick’d head doth throw
Beams round about it as those cressets do,
For not a hair he hath to give it shade.
Say, will thy heart serve t’ undertake a trade
For fitting wages? Should I take thee hence
To walk my grounds, and look to ev’ry fence,
Or plant high trees, thy hire should raise thy forces
Food store, and clothes. But these same idle courses
Thou art so prompt in that thou wilt not work,
But forage up and down, and beg, and lurk
In ev’ry house whose roofs hold any will
To feed such fellows. That thy gut may fill,
Gives end to all thy being.” He replied:
“I wish, at any work we two were tried,
In height of spring-time, when heav’n’s lights are long,
I a good crook’d scythe that were sharp and strong,
You such another, where the grass grew deep,
Up by day-break, and both our labours keep
Up till slow darkness eas’d the labouring light,
Fasting all day, and not a crumb till night;
We then should prove our either workmanship.
Or if, again, beeves, that the goad or whip
Were apt t’ obey before a tearing plow,
Big lusty beasts, alike in bulk and brow,
Alike in labour, and alike in strength,
Our task four acres, to be till’d in length
Of one sole day; again: then you should try
If the dull glebe before the plow-should fly,
Or I a long stitch could bear clean and even.
Or lastly, if the Guide of earth and heaven
Should stir stern war up, either here or there,
And that at this day I had double spear,
And shield, and steel casque fitting for my brows;
At this work likewise, ‘midst the foremost blows,
Your eyes should note me, and get little cause
To twit me with my belly’s sole applause.
But you affect t’ affect with injury,
Your mind ungentle, seem in valour high,
Because ‘gainst few, and those not of the best,
Your conversation hath been still profest.
But if Ulysses, landed on his earth,
And enter’d on the true right of his birth,
Should come and front ye, straight his ample gates
Your feet would hold too narrow for your fates.”
He frown’d, rag’d, call’d him wretch, and vow’d
To be his death, since he durst prove so proud
Amongst so many, to tell him so home
What he affected; ask’d, if overcome
With wine he were, or, as his minion said,
Talk’d still so idly, and were palsiéd
In his mind’s instruments, or was proud because
He gat from Irus off with such applause?
With all which, snatching up a stool, he threw;
When old Ulysses to the knees withdrew
Of the Dulichian lord, Amphinomus,
As if he fear’d him. His dart missing thus
His aged object, and his page’s hand
(A boy that waited on his cup’s command,
Now holding of an ewer to him) he smit,
Down fell the sounding ewer, and after it
The guiltless page lay sprawling in the dust,
And crying out. When all the Wooers thrust
A tumult up amongst them, wishing all
The rogue had perish’d in some hospital,
Before his life there stirr’d such uproars up,
And with rude speeches spice their pleasures’ cup.
And all this for a beggar to fulfill
A filthy proverb: Good still yields to ill.
The prince cried out on them, to let the bad
Obscure the good so; told them they were mad,
Abus’d their banquet, and affirm’d some God
Tried mast’ries with them; bade them take their load
Of food and wine, sit up, or fall to bed
At their free pleasures; and since he gave head
To all their freedoms, why should they mistake
Their own rich humours for a beggar’s sake?
All bit their lips to be so taken down,
And taught the course that should have been their own,
Admir’d the prince; and said he bravely spoke.
But Nisus’ son then struck the equal stroke,
And said: “O friends, let no man here disdain
To put up equal speeches, nor maintain
With serious words an humour, nor with stroke
A stranger in another’s house provoke,
Nor touch the meanest servant, but confine
All these dissentions in a bowl of wine;
Which fill us, cup-bearer, that, having done
Our nightly sacrifice, we may atone
Our pow’rs with sleep, resigning first the guest
Up to the prince, that holds all interest
In his disposure here; the house being his
In just descent, and all the faculties.”
This all approv’d; when noble Mulius,
Herald-in-chief to lord Amphinomus,
The wine distributed with rev’rend grace
To ev’ry Wooer; when the Gods giv’n place;
With service fit; they serv’d themselves, and took
Their parting cups, till, when they all had shook
The angry humour off, they bent to rest,
And ev’ry Wooer to sev’ral roofs addrest.
THE END OF THE EIGHTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS.
THE NINETEENTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS
THE ARGUMENT
Ulysses and his son eschew
Offending of the Wooers’ view
With any armour. His birth’s seat,
Ulysses tells his Queen, is Crete,
Euryclea the truth yet found,
Discover’d by a scar-heal’d wound,
Which in Parnassus’ tops a boar,
Struck by him in his chace, did gore.
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Ταυ̑.
The King still hid
By what he said;
By what he did
Informs his maid.
Yet did divine Ulysses keep his roof,
And with Minerva plotted still the proof
Of all the Wooers’ deaths; when thus his son
He taught with these fore-counsels: “We must run
A close course with these arms, and lay them by,
And to the Wooers make so fair a sky
As it would never thunder. Let me then,
That you may well retain, repeat again
What in Eumæus’ cottage I advis’d:
If when they see no leisure exercis’d,
In fetching down your arms, and ask what use
Your mind will give them, say, ’tis their abuse
With smoke and rust that makes you take them down,
This not being like the armory well-known
To be the leavings of Laertes’ son
Consorting the design for Ilion;
Your eyes may see how much they are infected,
As all fires’ vapours ever since reflected
On those sole arms. Besides, a graver thought
Jove graves within you, lest, their spirits wrought
Above their pitch with wine, they might contend
At some high banquet, and to wounds transcend,
Their feast inverting; which, perhaps, may be
Their nuptial feast with wise Penelopé.
The ready weapon, when the blood is up,
Doubles the uproar heighten’d by the cup.
Wrath’s means for act, curb all the ways ye can,
As loadstones draw the steel, so steel draws man.
Retain these words; nor what is good think, thus
Receiv’d at second hand, superfluous.”
The son, obeying, did Euryclea call,
And bade her shut in th’ utter porches all
The other women, till himself brought down
His father’s arms, which all were overgrown
By his neglect with rust, his father gone,
And he too-childish to spend thoughts upon
Those manly implements; but he would now
Reform those young neglects, and th’ arms bestow
Past reach of smoke. The loving nurse replied:
“I wish, O son, your pow’rs would once provide
For wisdom’s habit, see your household were
In thrifty manage, and tend all things there.
But if these arms must down, and ev’ry maid
Be shut in utter rooms, who else should aid
Your work with light?” He answer’d: “This my guest.
There shall no one in my house taste my feast,
Or join in my nave, that shall idly live, 1
However far hence he his home derive.”
He said, and his words stood. The doors she shut
Of that so well-fill’d house. And th’ other put
Their thoughts in act; best shields, helms, sharpen’d lances,
Brought down; and Pallas before both advances
A golden cresset, that did cast a light
As if the Day sat in the throne of Night.
When, half-amaz’d, the prince said: “O my father,
Mine eyes my soul’s pow’rs all in wonder gather,
For though the walls, and goodly wind-beams here,
All all these pillars, that their heads so rear,
And all of fir, they seem yet all of fire.
Some God is surely with us.” His wise sire
Bade peace, and keep the counsels of the Gods,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 150
