William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

by William Cowper

  BOOK XXII

  BOOK XXIII

  BOOK XXIV

  TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

  COUNTESS DOWAGER SPENCER

  THE FOLLOWING TRANSLATION OF THE ODYSSEY, A POEM

  THAT EXHIBITS IN THE CHARACTER OF ITS HEROINE

  AN EXAMPLE OF ALL DOMESTIC VIRTUE, IS WITH

  EQUAL PROPRIETY AND RESPECT INSCRIBED

  BY HER LADYSHIP’S MOST DEVOTED

  SERVANT, THE AUTHOR.

  BOOK I

  ARGUMENT

  In a council of the Gods, Minerva calls their attention to Ulysses, still a wanderer. They resolve to grant him a safe return to Ithaca. Minerva descends to encourage Telemachus, and in the form of Mentes directs him in what manner to proceed. Throughout this book the extravagance and profligacy of the suitors are occasionally suggested.

  Muse make the man thy theme, for shrewdness famed

  And genius versatile, who far and wide

  A Wand’rer, after Ilium overthrown,

  Discover’d various cities, and the mind

  And manners learn’d of men, in lands remote.

  He num’rous woes on Ocean toss’d, endured,

  Anxious to save himself, and to conduct

  His followers to their home; yet all his care

  Preserved them not; they perish’d self-destroy’d

  By their own fault; infatuate! who devoured 10

  The oxen of the all-o’erseeing Sun,

  And, punish’d for that crime, return’d no more.

  Daughter divine of Jove, these things record,

  As it may please thee, even in our ears.

  The rest, all those who had perdition ‘scaped

  By war or on the Deep, dwelt now at home;

  Him only, of his country and his wife

  Alike desirous, in her hollow grots

  Calypso, Goddess beautiful, detained

  Wooing him to her arms. But when, at length, 20

  (Many a long year elapsed) the year arrived

  Of his return (by the decree of heav’n)

  To Ithaca, not even then had he,

  Although surrounded by his people, reach’d

  The period of his suff’rings and his toils.

  Yet all the Gods, with pity moved, beheld

  His woes, save Neptune; He alone with wrath

  Unceasing and implacable pursued

  Godlike Ulysses to his native shores.

  But Neptune, now, the Æthiopians fought, 30

  (The Æthiopians, utmost of mankind,

  These Eastward situate, those toward the West)

  Call’d to an hecatomb of bulls and lambs.

  There sitting, pleas’d he banqueted; the Gods

  In Jove’s abode, meantime, assembled all,

  ‘Midst whom the Sire of heav’n and earth began.

  For he recall’d to mind Ægisthus slain

  By Agamemnon’s celebrated son

  Orestes, and retracing in his thought

  That dread event, the Immortals thus address’d. 40

  Alas! how prone are human-kind to blame

  The Pow’rs of Heav’n! From us, they say, proceed

  The ills which they endure, yet more than Fate

  Herself inflicts, by their own crimes incur.

  So now Ægisthus, by no force constrained

  Of Destiny, Atrides’ wedded wife

  Took to himself, and him at his return

  Slew, not unwarn’d of his own dreadful end

  By us: for we commanded Hermes down

  The watchful Argicide, who bade him fear 50

  Alike, to slay the King, or woo the Queen.

  For that Atrides’ son Orestes, soon

  As grown mature, and eager to assume

  His sway imperial, should avenge the deed.

  So Hermes spake, but his advice moved not

  Ægisthus, on whose head the whole arrear

  Of vengeance heap’d, at last, hath therefore fall’n.

  Whom answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

  Oh Jove, Saturnian Sire, o’er all supreme!

  And well he merited the death he found; 60

  So perish all, who shall, like him, offend.

  But with a bosom anguish-rent I view

  Ulysses, hapless Chief! who from his friends

  Remote, affliction hath long time endured

  In yonder wood-land isle, the central boss

  Of Ocean. That retreat a Goddess holds,

  Daughter of sapient Atlas, who the abyss

  Knows to its bottom, and the pillars high

  Himself upbears which sep’rate earth from heav’n.

  His daughter, there, the sorrowing Chief detains, 70

  And ever with smooth speech insidious seeks

  To wean his heart from Ithaca; meantime

  Ulysses, happy might he but behold

  The smoke ascending from his native land,

  Death covets. Canst thou not, Olympian Jove!

  At last relent? Hath not Ulysses oft

  With victims slain amid Achaia’s fleet

  Thee gratified, while yet at Troy he fought?

  How hath he then so deep incensed thee, Jove?

  To whom, the cloud-assembler God replied. 80

  What word hath pass’d thy lips, Daughter belov’d?

  Can I forget Ulysses? Him forget

  So noble, who in wisdom all mankind

  Excels, and who hath sacrific’d so oft

  To us whose dwelling is the boundless heav’n?

  Earth-circling Neptune — He it is whose wrath

  Pursues him ceaseless for the Cyclops’ sake

  Polypheme, strongest of the giant race,

  Whom of his eye Ulysses hath deprived.

  For Him, Thoösa bore, Nymph of the sea 90

  From Phorcys sprung, by Ocean’s mighty pow’r

  Impregnated in caverns of the Deep.

  E’er since that day, the Shaker of the shores,

  Although he slay him not, yet devious drives

  Ulysses from his native isle afar.

  Yet come — in full assembly his return

  Contrive we now, both means and prosp’rous end;

  So Neptune shall his wrath remit, whose pow’r

  In contest with the force of all the Gods

  Exerted single, can but strive in vain. 100

  To whom Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed.

  Oh Jupiter! above all Kings enthroned!

  If the Immortals ever-blest ordain

  That wise Ulysses to his home return,

  Dispatch we then Hermes the Argicide,

  Our messenger, hence to Ogygia’s isle,

  Who shall inform Calypso, nymph divine,

  Of this our fixt resolve, that to his home

  Ulysses, toil-enduring Chief, repair.

  Myself will hence to Ithaca, meantime, 110

  His son to animate, and with new force

  Inspire, that (the Achaians all convened

  In council,) he may, instant, bid depart

  The suitors from his home, who, day by day,

  His num’rous flocks and fatted herds consume.

  And I will send him thence to Sparta forth,

  And into sandy Pylus, there to hear

  (If hear he may) some tidings of his Sire,

  And to procure himself a glorious name.

  This said, her golden sandals to her feet 120

  She bound, ambrosial, which o’er all the earth

  And o’er the moist flood waft her fleet as air,

  Then, seizing her strong spear pointed with brass,

  In length and bulk, and weight a matchless beam,

  With which the Jove-born Goddess levels ranks

  Of Heroes, against whom her anger burns,

  From the Olympian summit down she flew,

  And on the threshold of Ulysses’ hall

  In Ithaca, and within his vestibule

  Apparent stood; there, grasping her bright spear, 130

&nb
sp; Mentes she seem’d, the hospitable Chief

  Of Taphos’ isle — she found the haughty throng

  The suitors; they before the palace gate

  With iv’ry cubes sported, on num’rous hides

  Reclined of oxen which themselves had slain.

  The heralds and the busy menials there

  Minister’d to them; these their mantling cups

  With water slaked; with bibulous sponges those

  Made clean the tables, set the banquet on,

  And portioned out to each his plenteous share. 140

  Long ere the rest Telemachus himself

  Mark’d her, for sad amid them all he sat,

  Pourtraying in deep thought contemplative

  His noble Sire, and questioning if yet

  Perchance the Hero might return to chase

  From all his palace that imperious herd,

  To his own honour lord of his own home.

  Amid them musing thus, sudden he saw

  The Goddess, and sprang forth, for he abhorr’d

  To see a guest’s admittance long delay’d; 150

  Approaching eager, her right hand he seized,

  The brazen spear took from her, and in words

  With welcome wing’d Minerva thus address’d.

  Stranger, all hail! to share our cordial love

  Thou com’st; the banquet finish’d, thou shalt next

  Inform me wherefore thou hast here arrived.

  So saying, toward the spacious hall he moved,

  Follow’d by Pallas, and, arriving soon

  Beneath the lofty roof, placed her bright spear

  Within a pillar’s cavity, long time 160

  The armoury where many a spear had stood,

  Bright weapons of his own illustrious Sire.

  Then, leading her toward a footstool’d throne

  Magnificent, which first he overspread

  With linen, there he seated her, apart

  From that rude throng, and for himself disposed

  A throne of various colours at her side,

  Lest, stunn’d with clamour of the lawless band,

  The new-arrived should loth perchance to eat,

  And that more free he might the stranger’s ear 170

  With questions of his absent Sire address,

  And now a maiden charg’d with golden ew’r,

  And with an argent laver, pouring first

  Pure water on their hands, supplied them, next,

  With a resplendent table, which the chaste

  Directress of the stores furnish’d with bread

  And dainties, remnants of the last regale.

  Then, in his turn, the sewer with sav’ry meats,

  Dish after dish, served them, of various kinds,

  And golden cups beside the chargers placed, 180

  Which the attendant herald fill’d with wine.

  Ere long, in rush’d the suitors, and the thrones

  And couches occupied, on all whose hands

  The heralds pour’d pure water; then the maids

  Attended them with bread in baskets heap’d,

  And eager they assail’d the ready feast.

  At length, when neither thirst nor hunger more

  They felt unsatisfied, to new delights

  Their thoughts they turn’d, to song and sprightly dance,

  Enlivening sequel of the banquet’s joys. 190

  An herald, then, to Phemius’ hand consign’d

  His beauteous lyre; he through constraint regaled

  The suitors with his song, and while the chords

  He struck in prelude to his pleasant strains,

  Telemachus his head inclining nigh

  To Pallas’ ear, lest others should his words

  Witness, the blue-eyed Goddess thus bespake.

  My inmate and my friend! far from my lips

  Be ev’ry word that might displease thine ear!

  The song — the harp, — what can they less than charm 200

  These wantons? who the bread unpurchased eat

  Of one whose bones on yonder continent

  Lie mould’ring, drench’d by all the show’rs of heaven,

  Or roll at random in the billowy deep.

  Ah! could they see him once to his own isle

  Restored, both gold and raiment they would wish

  Far less, and nimbleness of foot instead.

  But He, alas! hath by a wretched fate,

  Past question perish’d, and what news soe’er

  We hear of his return, kindles no hope 210

  In us, convinced that he returns no more.

  But answer undissembling; tell me true;

  Who art thou? whence? where stands thy city? where

  Thy father’s mansion? In what kind of ship

  Cam’st thou? Why steer’d the mariners their course

  To Ithaca, and of what land are they?

  For that on foot thou found’st us not, is sure.

  This also tell me, hast thou now arrived

  New to our isle, or wast thou heretofore

  My father’s guest? Since many to our house 220

  Resorted in those happier days, for he

  Drew pow’rful to himself the hearts of all.

  Then Pallas thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.

  I will with all simplicity of truth

  Thy questions satisfy. Behold in me

  Mentes, the offspring of a Chief renown’d

  In war, Anchialus; and I rule, myself,

  An island race, the Taphians oar-expert.

  With ship and mariners I now arrive,

  Seeking a people of another tongue 230

  Athwart the gloomy flood, in quest of brass

  For which I barter steel, ploughing the waves

  To Temesa. My ship beneath the woods

  Of Neïus, at yonder field that skirts

  Your city, in the haven Rhethrus rides.

  We are hereditary guests; our Sires

  Were friends long since; as, when thou seest him next,

  The Hero old Laertes will avouch,

  Of whom, I learn, that he frequents no more

  The city now, but in sequester’d scenes 240

  Dwells sorrowful, and by an antient dame

  With food and drink supplied oft as he feels

  Refreshment needful to him, while he creeps

  Between the rows of his luxuriant vines.

  But I have come drawn hither by report,

  Which spake thy Sire arrived, though still it seems

  The adverse Gods his homeward course retard.

  For not yet breathless lies the noble Chief,

  But in some island of the boundless flood

  Resides a prisoner, by barbarous force 250

  Of some rude race detained reluctant there.

  And I will now foreshow thee what the Gods

  Teach me, and what, though neither augur skill’d

  Nor prophet, I yet trust shall come to pass.

  He shall not, henceforth, live an exile long

  From his own shores, no, not although in bands

  Of iron held, but will ere long contrive

  His own return; for in expedients, framed

  With wond’rous ingenuity, he abounds.

  But tell me true; art thou, in stature such, 260

  Son of himself Ulysses? for thy face

  And eyes bright-sparkling, strongly indicate

  Ulysses in thee. Frequent have we both

  Conversed together thus, thy Sire and I,

  Ere yet he went to Troy, the mark to which

  So many Princes of Achaia steer’d.

  Him since I saw not, nor Ulysses me.

  To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

  Stranger! I tell thee true; my mother’s voice

  Affirms me his, but since no mortal knows 270

  His derivation, I affirm it not.

  Would I had been son of some happier Sire,

  Ordain’d in calm poss
ession of his own

  To reach the verge of life. But now, report

  Proclaims me his, whom I of all mankind

  Unhappiest deem. — Thy question is resolved.

  Then answer thus Pallas blue-eyed return’d.

  From no ignoble race, in future days,

  The Gods shall prove thee sprung, whom so endow’d

  With ev’ry grace Penelope hath borne. 280

  But tell me true. What festival is this?

  This throng — whence are they? wherefore hast thou need

  Of such a multitude? Behold I here

  A banquet, or a nuptial? for these

  Meet not by contribution to regale,

  With such brutality and din they hold

  Their riotous banquet! a wise man and good

  Arriving, now, among them, at the sight

  Of such enormities would much be wroth.

  To whom replied Telemachus discrete. 290

  Since, stranger! thou hast ask’d, learn also this.

  While yet Ulysses, with his people dwelt,

  His presence warranted the hope that here

  Virtue should dwell and opulence; but heav’n

  Hath cast for us, at length, a diff’rent lot,

  And he is lost, as never man before.

  For I should less lament even his death,

  Had he among his friends at Ilium fall’n,

  Or in the arms of his companions died,

  Troy’s siege accomplish’d. Then his tomb the Greeks 300

  Of ev’ry tribe had built, and for his son,

  He had immortal glory atchieved; but now,

  By harpies torn inglorious, beyond reach

  Of eye or ear he lies; and hath to me

  Grief only, and unceasing sighs bequeath’d.

  Nor mourn I for his sake alone; the Gods

  Have plann’d for me still many a woe beside;

  For all the rulers of the neighbour isles,

  Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown’d

  Zacynthus, others also, rulers here 310

  In craggy Ithaca, my mother seek

  In marriage, and my household stores consume.

  But neither she those nuptial rites abhorr’d,

  Refuses absolute, nor yet consents

  To end them; they my patrimony waste

  Meantime, and will not long spare even me.

  To whom, with deep commiseration pang’d,

  Pallas replied. Alas! great need hast thou

  Of thy long absent father to avenge

  These num’rous wrongs; for could he now appear 320

  There, at yon portal, arm’d with helmet, shield,

  And grasping his two spears, such as when first

  I saw him drinking joyous at our board,