by Homer
Of the so-many-loved Helen’s hands,
Which, at the knitting of thy nuptial bands,
Present thy wife. In mean space, may it lie
By thy lov’d mother; but to me apply
Thy pleasure in it, and thus take thy way
To thy fair house, and country’s wished stay.’
Thus gave she to his hands the veil, and he
The acceptation author’d joyfully.
Which in the chariot’s chest Pisistratus
Plac’d with the rest, and held miraculous.
The yellow-headed king then led them all
To seats and thrones, plac’d in his spacious hall.
The hand-maid water brought, and gave it stream
From out a fair and golden ewer to them,
From whose hands to a silver cauldron fled
The troubled wave. A bright board then she spread,
On which another reverend dame set bread;
To which more servants store of victuals serv’d.
Eteonaeus was the man that carv’d,
And Megapenthe fill’d them all their wine.
All fed and drank, till all felt care decline
For those refreshings. Both the guests did go
To horse and coach, and forth the portico
A little issu’d, when the yellow king
Brought wine himself, that, with an offering
To all the gods, they might their journey take.
He stood before the gods, and thus he spake:
‘Farewell, young princes! To grave Nestor’s ear
This salutation from my gratitude bear:
That I profess, in all our Ilion wars,
He stood a careful father to my cares.’
To whom the wise Ulyssides replied:
‘With all our utmost shall be signified,
Jove-kept Atrides, your right royal will;
And would to god, I could as well fulfill
Mine own mind’s gratitude, for your free grace,
In telling to Ulysses, in the place
Of my return, in what accomplish’d kind
I have obtain’d the office of a friend
At your deservings; whose fair end you crown
With gifts so many, and of such renown!’
His wish, that he might find in his retreat
His father safe return’d (to so repeat
The king’s love to him) was saluted thus:
An eagle rose, and in her seres did truss
A goose, all white, and huge, a household one,
Which men and women, crying out upon,
Pursu’d, but she, being near the guests, her flight
Made on their right hand, and kept still fore-right
Before their horses; which observ’d by them,
The spirits in all their minds took joys extreme,
Which Nestor’s son thus question’d: ‘Jove-kept king,
Yield your grave thoughts, if this ostentful thing
(This eagle and this goose) touch us or you?’
He put to study, and not knowing how
To give fit answer, Helen took on her
Th’ ostent’s solution, and did this prefer:
‘Hear me, and I will play the prophet’s part,
As the immortals cast it in my heart,
And as, I think, will make the true sense known:
As this Jove’s bird, from out the mountains flown
(Where was her eyrie, and whence rose her race)
Truss’d up this goose, that from the house did graze,
So shall Ulysses, coming from the wild
Of seas and sufferings, reach, unreconcil’d,
His native home, where ev’n this hour he is,
And on those house-fed wooers those wrongs of his
Will shortly wreak, with all their miseries.’
‘O,’ said Telemachus, ‘if Saturnian Jove
To my desires thy dear presage approve,
When I arrive, I will perform to thee
My daily vows, as to a deity.’
This said, he used his scourge upon the horse,
That through the city freely made their course
To field, and all day made that first speed good.
But when the sun set, and obscureness stood
In each man’s way, they ended their access
At Pheras, in the house of Diocles,
Son to Orsilochus, Alpheus’ seed,
Who gave them guest-rites; and sleep’s natural need
They that night serv’d there. When Aurora rose,
They join’d their horse, took coach, and did dispose
Their course for Pylos; whose high city soon
They reach’d. Nor would Telemachus be won
To Nestor’s house, and therefore order’d thus
His speech to Nestor’s son, Pisistratus:
‘How shall I win thy promise to a grace
That I must ask of thee? We both embrace
The names of bed-fellows, and in that name
Will glory as an adjunct of our fame;
Our fathers’ friendship, our own equal age,
And our joint travel, may the more engage
Our mutual concord. Do not then assay,
My god-lov’d friend, to lead me from my way
To my near ship, but take a course direct
And leave me there, lest thy old sire’s respect,
In his desire to love me, hinder so
My way for home, that have such need to go.’
This said, Nestorides held all discourse
In his kind soul, how best he might enforce
Both promise and performance; which, at last,
He vow’d to venture, and directly cast
His horse about to fetch the ship and shore.
Where come, his friends’ most lovely gifts he bore
Aboard the ship, and in her hind-deck plac’d
The veil that Helen’s curious hand had grac’d,
And Menelaus’ gold, and said: ‘Away,
Nor let thy men in any least date stay,
But quite put off, ere I get home and tell
The old duke you are pass’d; for passing well
I know his mind to so exceed all force
Of any pray’r, that he will stay your course,
Himself make hither, all your course call back,
And, when he hath you, have no thought to rack
Him from his bounty, and to let you part
Without a present, but be vex’d at heart
With both our pleadings, if we once but move
The least repression of his fiery love.’
Thus took he coach, his fair-man’d steeds scourg’d on
Along the Pylian city, and anon
His father’s court reach’d; while Ulysses’ son
Bade board, and arm; which with a thought was done.
His rowers set, and he rich odours firing
In his hind-deck, for his secure retiring,
To great Athenia, to his ship came flying
A stranger, and a prophet, as relying
On wished passage, having newly slain
A man at Argos, yet his race’s vein
Flow’d from Melampus, who in former date
In Pylos liv’d, and had a huge estate,
But fled his country, and the punishing hand
Of great-soul’d Neleus, in a foreign land,
From that most famous mortal having held
A worl
d of riches, nor could be compell’d
To render restitution in a year.
In mean space, living as close prisoner
In court of Phylacus, and for the sake
Of Neleus’ daughter, mighty cares did take,
Together with a grievous langour sent
From grave Erinnys, that did much torment
His vexed conscience; yet his life’s expense
He ’scap’d, and drave the loud-voic’d oxen thence,
To breed-sheep Pylos, bringing vengeance thus
Her foul demerit to great Neleus,
And to his brother’s house reduc’d his wife.
Who yet from Pylos did remove his life
For feed-horse Argos, where his fate set down
A dwelling for him, and in much renown
Made govern many Argives, where a spouse
He took to him, and built a famous house.
There had he born to him Antiphates,
And forceful Mantius. To the first of these
Was great Oïcleus born: Oïcleus gat
Amphiaräus, that the popular state
Had all their health in, whom ev’n from his heart
Jove lov’d, and Phoebus in the whole desert
Of friendship held him; yet not bless’d so much
That age’s threshold he did ever touch,
But lost his life by female bribery.
Yet two sons author’d his posterity,
Alcmaeon, and renown’d Amphilochus.
Mantius had issue Polyphidius,
And Clytus, but Aurora ravish’d him,
For excellence of his admired limb,
And interested him amongst the gods.
His brother knew men’s good and bad abodes
The best of all men, after the decease
Of him that perish’d in unnatural peace
At spacious Thebes. Apollo did inspire
His knowing soul with a prophetic fire.
Who, angry with his father, took his way
To Hyperesia; where, making stay,
He prophesied to all men, and had there
A son call’d Theoclymenus, who here
Came to Telemachus, and found aboard
Himself at sacrifice, whom in a word
He thus saluted: ‘O friend, since I find,
Ev’n here at ship, a sacrificing mind
Inform your actions, by your sacrifice,
And by that worthy choice of deities
To whom you offer, by yourself, and all
These men that serve your course maritimal,
Tell one that asks the truth, nor give it glose,
Both who, and whence, you are? From what seed rose
Your royal person? And what city’s tow’rs
Hold habitation to your parents’ pow’rs?’
He answer’d: ‘Stranger! The sure truth is this:
I am of Ithaca; my father is
(Or was) Ulysses, but austere death now
Takes his state from him; whose event to know,
Himself being long away, I set forth thus
With ship and soldiers.’ Theoclymenus
As freely said: ‘And I to thee am fled
From forth my country, for a man struck dead
By my unhappy hand, who was with me
Of one self-tribe, and of his pedigree
Are many friends and brothers, and the sway
Of Achive kindred reacheth far away.
From whom, because I fear their spleens suborn
Blood, and black fate against me (being born
To be a wand’rer among foreign men)
Make thy fair ship my rescue, and sustain
My life from slaughter. Thy deservings may
Perform that mercy, and to them I pray.’
‘Nor will I bar,’ said he, ‘thy will to make
My means and equal ship thy aid, but take
(With what we have here, in all friendly use)
Thy life from any violence that pursues.’
Thus took he in his lance, and it extended
Aloft the hatches, which himself ascended.
The prince took seat at stern, on his right hand
Set Theoclymenus, and gave command
To all his men to arm, and see made fast
Amidst the hollow keel the beechen mast
With able halsers, hoise sail, launch; which soon
He saw obey’d. And then his ship did run
A merry course; blue-eyed Minerva sent
A fore-right gale, tumultuous, vehement,
Along the air, that her way’s utmost yield
The ship might make, and plough the brackish field.
Then set the sun, and night black’d all the ways.
The ship, with Jove’s wind wing’d, where th’ Epian sways,
Fetch’d Pheras first, then Elis the divine,
And then for those isles made, that sea-ward shine
For form and sharpness like a lance’s head,
About which lay the wooers ambushed;
On which he rush’d, to try if he could ’scape
His plotted death, or serve her treach’rous rape.
And now return we to Eumaeus’ shed,
Where, at their food with others marshalled,
Ulysses and his noble herdsman sate.
To try if whose love’s curious estate
Stood firm to his abode, or felt it fade,
And so would take each best cause to persuade
His guest to town, Ulysses thus contends:
‘Hear me, Eumaeus, and ye other friends.
Next morn to town I covet to be gone,
To beg some others’ alms, not still charge one.
Advise me well then, and as well provide
I may be fitted with an honest guide,
For through the streets, since need will have it so,
I’ll tread, to try if any will bestow
A dish of drink on me, or bit of bread,
Till to Ulysses’ house I may he led;
And there I’ll tell all-wise Penelope news,
Mix with the wooers’ pride, and, since they use
To fare above the full, their hands excite
To some small feast from out their infinite:
For which I’ll wait, and play the servingman,
Fairly enough, command the most they can.
For I will tell thee, note me well, and hear,
That, if the will be of heav’n’s messenger,
(Who to the works of men, of any sort,
Can grace infuse, and glory) nothing short
Am I of him, that doth to most aspire
In any service, as to build a fire,
To cleave sere wood, to roast or boil their meat,
To wait at board, mix wine, or know the neat,
Or any work, in which the poor-call’d worst
To serve the rich-call’d best in fate are forc’d.’
He, angry with him, said: ‘Alas, poor guest,
Why did this counsel ever touch thy breast?
Thou seek’st thy utter spoil beyond all doubt,
If thou giv’st venture on the wooers’ rout,
Whose wrong and force affects the iron heav’n,
Their light delights are far from being giv’n
To such grave servitors. Youths richly trick’d
In coats or cassocks, locks divinely slick’d,
And looks most rapting, ever have the gift
To taste th
eir crown’d cups, and full trenchers shift.
Their tables ever like their glasses shine,
Loaded with bread, with varied flesh, and wine.
And thou go thither? Stay, for here do none
Grudge at thy presence, nor myself, nor one
Of all I feed. But when Ulysses’ son
Again shall greet us, he shall put thee on
Both coat and cassock, and thy quick retreat
Set where thy heart and soul desire thy seat.’
Industrious Ulysses gave reply:
‘I still much wish, that heav’n’s chief deity
Lov’d thee as I do, that hast eas’d my mind
Of woes and wand’rings never yet confin’d.
Nought is more wretched in a human race,
Than country’s want, and shift from place to place.
But for the baneful belly men take care
Beyond good counsel, whosoever are
In compass of the wants it undergoes
By wand’rings, losses, or dependent woes.
Excuse me therefore, if I err’d at home;
Which since thou wilt make here, as overcome
With thy command for stay, I’ll take on me
Cares appertaining to this place, like thee.
Does then Ulysses’ sire, and mother, breathe,
Both whom he left in th’ age next door to death?
Or are they breathless, and descended where
The dark house is, that never day doth clear?’
‘Laertes lives,’ said he, ‘but every hour
Beseecheth Jove to take from him the pow’r
That joins his life and limbs; for with a moan
That breeds a marvel he laments his son
Depriv’d by death, and adds to that another
Of no less depth for that dead son’s dead mother,
Whom he a virgin wedded, which the more
Makes him lament her loss, and doth deplore
Yet more her miss, because her womb the truer
Was to his brave son, and his slaughter slew her.
Which last love to her doth his life engage,
And makes him live an undigested age.
O such a death she died as never may
Seize any one that here beholds the day,
That either is to any man a friend,
Or can a woman kill in such a kind.
As long as she had being, I would be
A still inquirer (since ’twas dear to me,
Though death to her, to hear his name) when she
Heard of Ulysses, for I might be bold –
She brought me up, and in her love did hold
My life compar’d with long-veil’d Ctimene,
