William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works
Page 152
By Pallas, but for his own impious boast
In frenzy utter’d that he would escape
The billows, even in the Gods’ despight.
Neptune that speech vain-glorious hearing, grasp’d 610
His trident, and the huge Gyræan rock
Smiting indignant, dash’d it half away;
Part stood, and part, on which the boaster sat
When, first, the brainsick fury seiz’d him, fell,
Bearing him with it down into the gulphs
Of Ocean, where he drank the brine, and died.
But thy own brother in his barks escaped
That fate, by Juno saved; yet when, at length,
He should have gain’d Malea’s craggy shore,
Then, by a sudden tempest caught, he flew 620
With many a groan far o’er the fishy Deep
To the land’s utmost point, where once his home
Thyestes had, but where Thyestes’ son
Dwelt then, Ægisthus. Easy lay his course
And open thence, and, as it pleased the Gods,
The shifted wind soon bore them to their home.
He, high in exultation, trod the shore
That gave him birth, kiss’d it, and, at the sight,
The welcome sight of Greece, shed many a tear.
Yet not unseen he landed; for a spy, 630
One whom the shrewd Ægisthus had seduced
By promise of two golden talents, mark’d
His coming from a rock where he had watch’d
The year complete, lest, passing unperceived,
The King should reassert his right in arms.
Swift flew the spy with tidings to this Lord,
And He, incontinent, this project framed
Insidious. Twenty men, the boldest hearts
Of all the people, from the rest he chose,
Whom he in ambush placed, and others charged 640
Diligent to prepare the festal board.
With horses, then, and chariots forth he drove
Full-fraught with mischief, and conducting home
The unsuspicious King, amid the feast
Slew him, as at his crib men slay an ox.
Nor of thy brother’s train, nor of his train
Who slew thy brother, one survived, but all,
Welt’ring in blood together, there expired.
He ended, and his words beat on my heart
As they would break it. On the sands I sat 650
Weeping, nor life nor light desiring more.
But when I had in dust roll’d me, and wept
To full satiety, mine ear again
The oracle of Ocean thus address’d.
Sit not, O son of Atreus! weeping here
Longer, for remedy can none be found;
But quick arising, trial make, how best
Thou shalt, and soonest, reach thy home again.
For either him still living thou shalt find,
Or ere thou come, Orestes shall have slain 660
The traytor, and thine eyes shall see his tomb.
He ceas’d, and I, afflicted as I was,
Yet felt my spirit at that word refresh’d,
And in wing’d accents answer thus return’d.
Of these I am inform’d; but name the third
Who, dead or living, on the boundless Deep
Is still detain’d; I dread, yet wish to hear.
So I; to whom thus Proteus in return.
Laertes’ son, the Lord of Ithaca —
Him in an island weeping I beheld, 670
Guest of the nymph Calypso, by constraint
Her guest, and from his native land withheld
By sad necessity; for ships well-oar’d,
Or faithful followers hath he none, whose aid
Might speed him safely o’er the spacious flood.
But, Menelaus dear to Jove! thy fate
Ordains not thee the stroke of death to meet
In steed-fam’d Argos, but far hence the Gods
Will send thee to Elysium, and the earth’s
Extremest bounds; (there Rhadamanthus dwells, 680
The golden-hair’d, and there the human kind
Enjoy the easiest life; no snow is there,
No biting winter, and no drenching show’r,
But zephyr always gently from the sea
Breathes on them to refresh the happy race)
For that fair Helen is by nuptial bands
Thy own, and thou art son-in-law of Jove.
So saying, he plunged into the billowy waste,
I then, with my brave comrades to the fleet
Return’d, deep-musing as I went, and sad. 690
No sooner had I reach’d my ship beside
The ocean, and we all had supp’d, than night
From heav’n fell on us, and, at ease reposed
Along the margin of the sea, we slept.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look’d rosy forth, drawing our galleys down
Into the sacred Deep, we rear’d again
The mast, unfurl’d the sail, and to our seats
On board returning, thresh’d the foamy flood.
Once more, at length, within the hallow’d stream 700
Of Ægypt mooring, on the shore I slew
Whole hecatombs, and (the displeasure thus
Of the immortal Gods appeased) I reared
To Agamemnon’s never-dying fame
A tomb, and finishing it, sail’d again
With such a gale from heaven vouchsafed, as sent
My ships swift-scudding to the shores of Greece.
But come — eleven days wait here, or twelve
A guest with me, when I will send thee hence
Nobly, and honour’d with illustrious gifts, 710
With polish’d chariot, with three princely steeds,
And with a gorgeous cup, that to the Gods
Libation pouring ever while thou liv’st
From that same cup, thou may’st remember me.
Him, prudent, then answer’d Telemachus.
Atrides, seek not to detain me here
Long time; for though contented I could sit
The year beside thee, nor regret my home
Or parents, (so delightful thy discourse
Sounds in my ear) yet, even now, I know, 720
That my attendants to the Pylian shore
Wish my return, whom thou thus long detain’st.
What boon soe’er thou giv’st me, be it such
As I may treasur’d keep; but horses none
Take I to Ithaca; them rather far
Keep thou, for thy own glory. Thou art Lord
Of an extended plain, where copious springs
The lotus, herbage of all savours, wheat,
Pulse, and white barley of luxuriant growth.
But Ithaca no level champaign owns, 730
A nursery of goats, and yet a land
Fairer than even pastures to the eye.
No sea-encircled isle of ours affords
Smooth course commodious and expanse of meads,
But my own Ithaca transcends them all!
He said; the Hero Menelaus smiled,
And stroaking tenderly his cheek, replied.
Dear youth! thy speech proclaims thy noble blood.
I can with ease supply thee from within
With what shall suit thee better, and the gift 740
Of all that I possess which most excels
In beauty, and the noblest shall be thine.
I give thee, wrought elaborate, a cup
Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold.
It is the work of Vulcan, which to me
The Hero Phædimus imparted, King
Of the Sidonians, when on my return
His house received me. That shall be thy own.
Thus they conferr’d; and now the busy train
Of menials culinary, at the gate 750
They brought him sheep, with heart-ennobling wine,
While all their wives, their brows with frontlets bound,
Came charg’d with bread. Thus busy they prepared
A banquet in the mansion of the King.
Meantime, before Ulysses’ palace gate
The suitors sported with the quoit and spear
On the smooth area, customary scene
Of all their strife and angry clamour loud.
There sat Antinoüs, and the godlike youth 760
Eurymachus, superior to the rest
And Chiefs among them, to whom Phronius’ son
Noëmon drawing nigh, with anxious mien
Question’d Antinoüs, and thus began.
Know we, Antinoüs! or know we not,
When to expect Telemachus at home
Again from Pylus? in my ship he went,
Which now I need, that I may cross the sea
To Elis, on whose spacious plain I feed
Twelve mares, each suckling a mule-colt as yet 770
Unbroken, but of which I purpose one
To ferry thence, and break him into use.
He spake, whom they astonish’d heard; for him
They deem’d not to Nelëian Pylus gone,
But haply into his own fields, his flocks
To visit, or the steward of his swine.
Then thus, Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, spake.
Say true. When sail’d he forth? of all our youth,
Whom chose he for his followers? his own train
Of slaves and hirelings? hath he pow’r to effect 780
This also? Tell me too, for I would learn —
Took he perforce thy sable bark away,
Or gav’st it to him at his first demand?
To whom Noëmon, Phronius’ son, replied.
I gave it voluntary; what could’st thou,
Should such a prince petition for thy bark
In such distress? Hard were it to refuse.
Brave youths (our bravest youths except yourselves)
Attend him forth; and with them I observed
Mentor embarking, ruler o’er them all, 790
Or, if not him, a God; for such he seem’d.
But this much moves my wonder. Yester-morn
I saw, at day-break, noble Mentor here,
Whom shipp’d for Pylus I had seen before.
He ceas’d; and to his father’s house return’d;
They, hearing, sat aghast. Their games meantime
Finish’d, the suitors on their seats reposed,
To whom Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, next,
Much troubled spake; a black storm overcharged
His bosom, and his vivid eyes flash’d fire. 800
Ye Gods, a proud exploit is here atchieved,
This voyage of Telemachus, by us
Pronounced impracticable; yet the boy
In downright opposition to us all,
Hath headlong launched a ship, and, with a band
Selected from our bravest youth, is gone.
He soon will prove more mischievous, whose pow’r
Jove wither, ere we suffer its effects!
But give me a swift bark with twenty rowers,
That, watching his return within the streights 810
Of rocky Samos and of Ithaca,
I may surprise him; so shall he have sail’d
To seek his Sire, fatally for himself.
He ceased and loud applause heard in reply,
With warm encouragement. Then, rising all,
Into Ulysses’ house at once they throng’d.
Nor was Penelope left uninformed
Long time of their clandestine plottings deep,
For herald Medon told her all, whose ear
Their councils caught while in the outer-court 820
He stood, and they that project framed within.
Swift to Penelope the tale he bore,
Who as he pass’d the gate, him thus address’d.
For what cause, herald! have the suitors sent
Thee foremost? Wou’d they that my maidens lay
Their tasks aside, and dress the board for them?
Here end their wooing! may they hence depart
Never, and may the banquet now prepared,
This banquet prove your last! who in such throngs
Here meeting, waste the patrimony fair 830
Of brave Telemachus; ye never, sure,
When children, heard how gracious and how good
Ulysses dwelt among your parents, none
Of all his people, or in word or deed
Injuring, as great princes oft are wont,
By favour influenc’d now, now by disgust.
He no man wrong’d at any time; but plain
Your wicked purpose in your deeds appears,
Who sense have none of benefits conferr’d.
Then Medon answer’d thus, prudent, return’d. 840
Oh Queen! may the Gods grant this prove the worst.
But greater far and heavier ills than this
The suitors plan, whose counsels Jove confound!
Their base desire and purpose are to slay
Telemachus on his return; for he,
To gather tidings of his Sire is gone
To Pylus, or to Sparta’s land divine.
He said; and where she stood, her trembling knees
Fail’d under her, and all her spirits went.
Speechless she long remain’d, tears filled her eyes, 850
And inarticulate in its passage died
Her utt’rance, till at last with pain she spake.
Herald! why went my son? he hath no need
On board swift ships to ride, which are to man
His steeds that bear him over seas remote.
Went he, that, with himself, his very name
Might perish from among mankind for ever?
Then answer, thus, Medon the wise return’d.
I know not whether him some God impell’d
Or his own heart to Pylus, there to hear 860
News of his Sire’s return, or by what fate
At least he died, if he return no more.
He said, and traversing Ulysses’ courts,
Departed; she with heart consuming woe
O’erwhelm’d, no longer could endure to take
Repose on any of her num’rous seats,
But on the threshold of her chamber-door
Lamenting sat, while all her female train
Around her moan’d, the antient and the young,
Whom, sobbing, thus Penelope bespake. 870
Hear me, ye maidens! for of women born
Coeval with me, none hath e’er received
Such plenteous sorrow from the Gods as I,
Who first my noble husband lost, endued
With courage lion-like, of all the Greeks
The Chief with ev’ry virtue most adorn’d,
A prince all-excellent, whose glorious praise
Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused.
And now, my darling son, — him storms have snatch’d
Far hence inglorious, and I knew it not. 880
Ah treach’rous servants! conscious as ye were
Of his design, not one of you the thought
Conceived to wake me when he went on board.
For had but the report once reach’d my ear,
He either had not gone (how much soe’er
He wish’d to leave me) or had left me dead.
But haste ye, — bid my antient servant come,
Dolion, whom (when I left my father’s house
He gave me, and whose office is to attend
My num’rous garden-plants) that he may seek 890
At once Laertes, and may tell him all,
Who may contrive some remedy, perchance,
Or fit expedient, and shall come abroad
To weep
before the men who wish to slay
Even the prince, godlike Ulysses’ son.
Then thus the gentle Euryclea spake,
Nurse of Telemachus. Alas! my Queen!
Slay me, or spare, deal with me as thou wilt,
I will confess the truth. I knew it all.
I gave him all that he required from me. 900
Both wine and bread, and, at his bidding, swore
To tell thee nought in twelve whole days to come,
Or till, enquiry made, thou should’st thyself
Learn his departure, lest thou should’st impair
Thy lovely features with excess of grief.
But lave thyself, and, fresh attired, ascend
To thy own chamber, there, with all thy train,
To worship Pallas, who shall save, thenceforth,
Thy son from death, what ills soe’er he meet.
Add not fresh sorrows to the present woes 910
Of the old King, for I believe not yet
Arcesias’ race entirely by the Gods
Renounced, but trust that there shall still be found
Among them, who shall dwell in royal state,
And reap the fruits of fertile fields remote.
So saying, she hush’d her sorrow, and her eyes
No longer stream’d. Then, bathed and fresh attired,
Penelope ascended with her train
The upper palace, and a basket stored
With hallow’d cakes off’ring, to Pallas pray’d. 920
Hear matchless daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d!
If ever wise Ulysses offer’d here
The thighs of fatted kine or sheep to thee,
Now mindful of his piety, preserve
His darling son, and frustrate with a frown
The cruelty of these imperious guests!
She said, and wept aloud, whose earnest suit
Pallas received. And now the spacious hall
And gloomy passages with tumult rang
And clamour of that throng, when thus, a youth, 930
Insolent as his fellows, dared to speak.
Much woo’d and long, the Queen at length prepares
To chuse another mate, and nought suspects
The bloody death to which her son is doom’d.
So he; but they, meantime, themselves remain’d
Untaught, what course the dread concern elsewhere
Had taken, whom Antinoüs thus address’d.
Sirs! one and all, I counsel you, beware
Of such bold boasting unadvised; lest one
O’erhearing you, report your words within. 940
No — rather thus, in silence, let us move
To an exploit so pleasant to us all.
He said, and twenty chose, the bravest there,
With whom he sought the galley on the shore,
Which drawing down into the deep, they placed
The mast and sails on board, and, sitting, next,
Each oar in order to its proper groove,