The sorrow into which we sudden fell
Shall pause. Come — now remember we the feast;
Pour water on our hands, for we shall find,
(Telemachus and I) no dearth of themes
For mutual converse when the day shall dawn. 270
He ended; then, Asphalion, at his word,
Servant of glorious Menelaus, poured
Pure water on their hands, and they the feast
Before them with keen appetite assail’d.
But Jove-born Helen otherwise, meantime,
Employ’d, into the wine of which they drank
A drug infused, antidote to the pains
Of grief and anger, a most potent charm
For ills of ev’ry name. Whoe’er his wine
So medicated drinks, he shall not pour 280
All day the tears down his wan cheek, although
His father and his mother both were dead,
Nor even though his brother or his son
Had fall’n in battle, and before his eyes.
Such drugs Jove’s daughter own’d, with skill prepar’d,
And of prime virtue, by the wife of Thone,
Ægyptian Polydamna, giv’n her.
For Ægypt teems with drugs, yielding no few
Which, mingled with the drink, are good, and many
Of baneful juice, and enemies to life. 290
There ev’ry man in skill medicinal
Excels, for they are sons of Pæon all.
That drug infused, she bade her servant pour
The bev’rage forth, and thus her speech resumed.
Atrides! Menelaus! dear to Jove!
These also are the sons of Chiefs renown’d,
(For Jove, as pleases him, to each assigns
Or good or evil, whom all things obey)
Now therefore, feasting at your ease reclin’d,
Listen with pleasure, for myself, the while, 300
Will matter seasonable interpose.
I cannot all rehearse, nor even name,
(Omitting none) the conflicts and exploits
Of brave Ulysses; but with what address
Successful, one atchievement he perform’d
At Ilium, where Achaia’s sons endured
Such hardship, will I speak. Inflicting wounds
Dishonourable on himself, he took
A tatter’d garb, and like a serving-man
Enter’d the spacious city of your foes. 310
So veil’d, some mendicant he seem’d, although
No Greecian less deserved that name than he.
In such disguise he enter’d; all alike
Misdeem’d him; me alone he not deceived
Who challeng’d him, but, shrewd, he turn’d away.
At length, however, when I had myself
Bathed him, anointed, cloath’d him, and had sworn
Not to declare him openly in Troy
Till he should reach again the camp and fleet,
He told me the whole purpose of the Greeks. 320
Then, (many a Trojan slaughter’d,) he regain’d
The camp, and much intelligence he bore
To the Achaians. Oh what wailing then
Was heard of Trojan women! but my heart
Exulted, alter’d now, and wishing home;
For now my crime committed under force
Of Venus’ influence I deplored, what time
She led me to a country far remote,
A wand’rer from the matrimonial bed,
From my own child, and from my rightful Lord 330
Alike unblemish’d both in form and mind.
Her answer’d then the Hero golden-hair’d.
Helen! thou hast well spoken. All is true.
I have the talents fathom’d and the minds
Of num’rous Heroes, and have travell’d far
Yet never saw I with these eyes in man
Such firmness as the calm Ulysses own’d;
None such as in the wooden horse he proved,
Where all our bravest sat, designing woe
And bloody havoc for the sons of Troy. 340
Thou thither cam’st, impell’d, as it should seem,
By some divinity inclin’d to give
Victory to our foes, and with thee came
Godlike Deiphobus. Thrice round about
The hollow ambush, striking with thy hand
Its sides thou went’st, and by his name didst call
Each prince of Greece feigning his consort’s voice.
Myself with Diomede, and with divine
Ulysses, seated in the midst, the call
Heard plain and loud; we (Diomede and I) 350
With ardour burn’d either to quit the horse
So summon’d, or to answer from within.
But, all impatient as we were, Ulysses
Controul’d the rash design; so there the sons
Of the Achaians silent sat and mute,
And of us all Anticlus would alone
Have answer’d; but Ulysses with both hands
Compressing close his lips, saved us, nor ceased
Till Pallas thence conducted thee again.
Then thus, discrete, Telemachus replied. 360
Atrides! Menelaus! prince renown’d!
Hard was his lot whom these rare qualities
Preserved not, neither had his dauntless heart
Been iron, had he scaped his cruel doom.
But haste, dismiss us hence, that on our beds
Reposed, we may enjoy sleep, needful now.
He ceas’d; then Argive Helen gave command
To her attendant maidens to prepare
Beds in the portico with purple rugs
Resplendent, and with arras, overspread, 370
And cover’d warm with cloaks of shaggy pile.
Forth went the maidens, bearing each a torch,
And spread the couches; next, the herald them
Led forth, and in the vestibule the son
Of Nestor and the youthful Hero slept,
Telemachus; but in the interior house
Atrides, with the loveliest of her sex
Beside him, Helen of the sweeping stole.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Glow’d in the East, then from his couch arose 380
The warlike Menelaus, fresh attir’d;
His faulchion o’er his shoulders slung, he bound
His sandals fair to his unsullied feet,
And like a God issuing, at the side
Sat of Telemachus, to whom he spake.
Hero! Telemachus! what urgent cause
Hath hither led thee, to the land far-famed
Of Lacedæmon o’er the spacious Deep?
Public concern or private? Tell me true.
To whom Telemachus discrete replied. 390
Atrides! Menelaus! prince renown’d!
News seeking of my Sire, I have arrived.
My household is devour’d, my fruitful fields
Are desolated, and my palace fill’d
With enemies, who while they mutual wage
Proud competition for my mother’s love,
My flocks continual slaughter, and my beeves.
For this cause, at thy knees suppliant, I beg
That thou wouldst tell me his disastrous end,
If either thou beheld’st with thine own eyes 400
His death, or from some wand’rer of the Greeks
Hast heard it; for no common woes, alas!
Was he ordain’d to share ev’n from the womb.
Neither through pity or o’erstrain’d respect
Flatter me, but explicit all relate
Which thou hast witness’d. If my noble Sire
E’er gratified thee by performance just
Of word or deed at Ilium, where ye fell
So num’rous slain in fight, oh recollect
Now his fidelity, and tell me true! 410
Then Menelau
s, sighing deep, replied.
Gods! their ambition is to reach the bed
Of a brave man, however base themselves.
But as it chances, when the hart hath lay’d
Her fawns new-yean’d and sucklings yet, to rest
Within some dreadful lion’s gloomy den,
She roams the hills, and in the grassy vales
Feeds heedless, till the lion, to his lair
Return’d, destroys her and her little-ones,
So them thy Sire shall terribly destroy. 420
Jove, Pallas and Apollo! oh that such
As erst in well-built Lesbos, where he strove
With Philomelides, and threw him flat,
A sight at which Achaia’s sons rejoic’d,
Such, now, Ulysses might assail them all!
Short life and bitter nuptials should be theirs.
But thy enquiries neither indirect
Will I evade, nor give thee false reply,
But all that from the Antient of the Deep
I have receiv’d will utter, hiding nought. 430
As yet the Gods on Ægypt’s shore detained
Me wishing home, angry at my neglect
To heap their altars with slain hecatombs.
For they exacted from us evermore
Strict rev’rence of their laws. There is an isle
Amid the billowy flood, Pharos by name,
In front of Ægypt, distant from her shore
Far as a vessel by a sprightly gale
Impell’d, may push her voyage in a day.
The haven there is good, and many a ship 440
Finds wat’ring there from riv’lets on the coast.
There me the Gods kept twenty days, no breeze
Propitious granting, that might sweep the waves,
And usher to her home the flying bark.
And now had our provision, all consumed,
Left us exhausted, but a certain nymph
Pitying saved me. Daughter fair was she
Of mighty Proteus, Antient of the Deep,
Idothea named; her most my sorrows moved;
She found me from my followers all apart 450
Wand’ring (for they around the isle, with hooks
The fishes snaring roamed, by famine urged)
And standing at my side, me thus bespake.
Stranger! thou must be ideot born, or weak
At least in intellect, or thy delight
Is in distress and mis’ry, who delay’st
To leave this island, and no egress hence
Canst find, although thy famish’d people faint.
So spake the Goddess, and I thus replied.
I tell thee, whosoever of the Pow’rs 460
Divine thou art, that I am prison’d here
Not willingly, but must have, doubtless, sinn’d
Against the deathless tenants of the skies.
Yet say (for the Immortals all things know)
What God detains me, and my course forbids
Hence to my country o’er the fishy Deep?
So I; to whom the Goddess all-divine.
Stranger! I will inform thee true. A seer
Oracular, the Antient of the Deep,
Immortal Proteus, the Ægyptian, haunts 470
These shores, familiar with all Ocean’s gulphs,
And Neptune’s subject. He is by report
My father; him if thou art able once
To seize and bind, he will prescribe the course
With all its measured distances, by which
Thou shalt regain secure thy native shores.
He will, moreover, at thy suit declare,
Thou favour’d of the skies! what good, what ill
Hath in thine house befall’n, while absent thou
Thy voyage difficult perform’st and long. 480
She spake, and I replied — Thyself reveal
By what effectual bands I may secure
The antient Deity marine, lest, warn’d
Of my approach, he shun me and escape.
Hard task for mortal hands to bind a God!
Then thus Idothea answer’d all-divine.
I will inform thee true. Soon as the sun
Hath climb’d the middle heav’ns, the prophet old,
Emerging while the breezy zephyr blows,
And cover’d with the scum of ocean, seeks 490
His spacious cove, in which outstretch’d he lies.
The phocæ also, rising from the waves,
Offspring of beauteous Halosydna, sleep
Around him, num’rous, and the fishy scent
Exhaling rank of the unfathom’d flood.
Thither conducting thee at peep of day
I will dispose thee in some safe recess,
But from among thy followers thou shalt chuse
The bravest three in all thy gallant fleet.
And now the artifices understand 500
Of the old prophet of the sea. The sum
Of all his phocæ numb’ring duly first,
He will pass through them, and when all by fives
He counted hath, will in the midst repose
Content, as sleeps the shepherd with his flock.
When ye shall see him stretch’d, then call to mind
That moment all your prowess, and prevent,
Howe’er he strive impatient, his escape.
All changes trying, he will take the form
Of ev’ry reptile on the earth, will seem 510
A river now, and now devouring fire;
But hold him ye, and grasp him still the more.
And when himself shall question you, restored
To his own form in which ye found him first
Reposing, then from farther force abstain;
Then, Hero! loose the Antient of the Deep,
And ask him, of the Gods who checks thy course
Hence to thy country o’er the fishy flood.
So saying, she plunged into the billowy waste.
I then, in various musings lost, my ships 520
Along the sea-beach station’d sought again,
And when I reach’d my galley on the shore
We supp’d, and sacred night falling from heav’n,
Slept all extended on the ocean-side.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look’d rosy forth, pensive beside the shore
I walk’d of Ocean, frequent to the Gods
Praying devout, then chose the fittest three
For bold assault, and worthiest of my trust.
Meantime the Goddess from the bosom wide 530
Of Ocean rising, brought us thence four skins
Of phocæ, and all newly stript, a snare
Contriving subtle to deceive her Sire.
Four cradles in the sand she scoop’d, then sat
Expecting us, who in due time approach’d;
She lodg’d us side by side, and over each
A raw skin cast. Horrible to ourselves
Proved that disguise whom the pernicious scent
Of the sea-nourish’d phocæ sore annoy’d;
For who would lay him down at a whale’s side? 540
But she a potent remedy devised
Herself to save us, who the nostrils sooth’d
Of each with pure ambrosia thither brought
Odorous, which the fishy scent subdued.
All morning, patient watchers, there we lay;
And now the num’rous phocæ from the Deep
Emerging, slept along the shore, and he
At noon came also, and perceiving there
His fatted monsters, through the flock his course
Took regular, and summ’d them; with the first 550
He number’d us, suspicion none of fraud
Conceiving, then couch’d also. We, at once,
Loud-shouting flew on him, and in our arms
Constrain’d him fast; nor the sea-prophet old
Cal
l’d not incontinent his shifts to mind.
First he became a long-maned lion grim,
Then dragon, panther then, a savage boar,
A limpid stream, and an o’ershadowing tree.
We persevering held him, till at length
The Antient of the Deep, skill’d as he is 560
In wiles, yet weary, question’d me, and said.
Oh Atreus’ son, by what confed’rate God
Instructed liest thou in wait for me,
To seize and hold me? what is thy desire?
So He; to whom thus answer I return’d.
Old Seer! thou know’st; why, fraudful, should’st thou ask?
It is because I have been prison’d long
Within this isle, whence I have sought in vain
Deliv’rance, till my wonted courage fails.
Yet say (for the Immortals all things know) 570
What God detains me, and my course forbids
Hence to my country o’er the fishy Deep?
So I; when thus the old one of the waves.
But thy plain duty was to have adored
Jove, first, in sacrifice, and all the Gods,
That then embarking, by propitious gales
Impell’d, thou might’st have reach’d thy country soon.
For thou art doom’d ne’er to behold again
Thy friends, thy palace, or thy native shores,
Till thou have seen once more the hallow’d flood 580
Of Ægypt, and with hecatombs adored
Devout, the deathless tenants of the skies.
Then will they speed thee whither thou desir’st.
He ended, and my heart broke at his words,
Which bade me pass again the gloomy gulph
To Ægypt; tedious course, and hard to atchieve!
Yet, though in sorrow whelm’d, I thus replied.
Old prophet! I will all thy will perform.
But tell me, and the truth simply reveal;
Have the Achaians with their ships arrived 590
All safe, whom Nestor left and I, at Troy?
Or of the Chiefs have any in their barks,
Or in their followers’ arms found a dire death
Unlook’d for, since that city’s siege we closed?
I spake, when answer thus the God return’d.
Atrides, why these questions? Need is none
That thou should’st all my secrets learn, which once
Reveal’d, thou would’st not long dry-eyed remain.
Of those no few have died, and many live;
But leaders, two alone, in their return 600
Have died (thou also hast had war to wage)
And one, still living, roams the boundless sea.
Ajax, surrounded by his galleys, died.
Him Neptune, first, against the bulky rocks
The Gyræ drove, but saved him from the Deep;
Nor had he perish’d, hated as he was
William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works Page 151
