William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

by William Cowper

  Of hospitality and love. The Chiefs 480

  Are twelve, who, highest in command, controul

  The people, and the thirteenth Chief am I.

  Bring each a golden talent, with a vest

  Well-bleach’d, and tunic; gratified with these,

  The stranger to our banquet shall repair

  Exulting; bring them all without delay;

  And let Euryalus by word and gift

  Appease him, for his speech was unadvised.

  He ceas’d, whom all applauded, and at once

  Each sent his herald forth to bring the gifts, 490

  When thus Euryalus his Sire address’d.

  Alcinoüs! o’er Phæacia’s sons supreme!

  I will appease our guest, as thou command’st.

  This sword shall be his own, the blade all steel.

  The hilt of silver, and the unsullied sheath

  Of iv’ry recent from the carver’s hand,

  A gift like this he shall not need despise.

  So saying, his silver-studded sword he gave

  Into his grasp, and, courteous, thus began.

  Hail, honour’d stranger! and if word of mine 500

  Have harm’d thee, rashly spoken, let the winds

  Bear all remembrance of it swift away!

  May the Gods give thee to behold again

  Thy wife, and to attain thy native shore,

  Whence absent long, thou hast so much endured!

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  Hail also thou, and may the Gods, my friend,

  Grant thee felicity, and may never want

  Of this thy sword touch thee in time to come,

  By whose kind phrase appeas’d my wrath subsides! 510

  He ended, and athwart his shoulders threw

  The weapon bright emboss’d. Now sank the sun,

  And those rich gifts arrived, which to the house

  Of King Alcinoüs the heralds bore.

  Alcinoüs’ sons receiv’d them, and beside

  Their royal mother placed the precious charge.

  The King then led the way, at whose abode

  Arrived, again they press’d their lofty thrones,

  And to Areta thus the monarch spake.

  Haste, bring a coffer; bring thy best, and store 520

  A mantle and a sumptuous vest within;

  Warm for him, next, a brazen bath, by which

  Refresh’d, and viewing in fair order placed

  The noble gifts by the Phæacian Lords

  Conferr’d on him, he may the more enjoy

  Our banquet, and the bard’s harmonious song.

  I give him also this my golden cup

  Splendid, elaborate; that, while he lives

  What time he pours libation forth to Jove

  And all the Gods, he may remember me. 530

  He ended, at whose words Areta bade

  Her maidens with dispatch place o’er the fire

  A tripod ample-womb’d; obedient they

  Advanced a laver to the glowing hearth,

  Water infused, and kindled wood beneath

  The flames encircling bright the bellied vase,

  Warm’d soon the flood within. Meantime, the Queen

  Producing from her chamber-stores a chest

  All-elegant, within it placed the gold,

  And raiment, gifts of the Phæacian Chiefs, 540

  With her own gifts, the mantle and the vest,

  And in wing’d accents to Ulysses said.

  Now take, thyself, the coffer’s lid in charge;

  Girdle it quickly with a cord, lest loss

  Befall thee on thy way, while thou perchance

  Shalt sleep secure on board the sable bark.

  Which when Ulysses heard, Hero renown’d,

  Adjusting close the lid, he cast a cord

  Around it which with many a mazy knot

  He tied, by Circe taught him long before. 550

  And now, the mistress of the household charge

  Summon’d him to his bath; glad he beheld

  The steaming vase, uncustom’d to its use

  E’er since his voyage from the isle of fair

  Calypso, although, while a guest with her,

  Ever familiar with it, as a God.

  Laved by attendant damsels, and with oil

  Refresh’d, he put his sumptuous tunic on

  And mantle, and proceeding from the bath

  To the symposium, join’d the num’rous guests; 560

  But, as he pass’d, the Princess all divine

  Beside the pillars of the portal, lost

  In admiration of his graceful form,

  Stood, and in accents wing’d him thus address’d.

  Hail, stranger! at thy native home arrived

  Remember me, thy first deliv’rer here.

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  Nausicaa! daughter of the noble King

  Alcinoüs! So may Jove, high-thund’ring mate

  Of Juno, grant me to behold again 570

  My native land, and my delightful home,

  As, even there, I will present my vows

  To thee, adoring thee as I adore

  The Gods themselves, virgin, by whom I live!

  He said, and on his throne beside the King

  Alcinoüs sat. And now they portion’d out

  The feast to all, and charg’d the cups with wine,

  And introducing by his hand the bard

  Phæacia’s glory, at the column’s side

  The herald placed Demodocus again. 580

  Then, carving forth a portion from the loins

  Of a huge brawn, of which uneaten still

  Large part and delicate remain’d, thus spake

  Ulysses — Herald! bear it to the bard

  For his regale, whom I will soon embrace

  In spite of sorrow; for respect is due

  And veneration to the sacred bard

  From all mankind, for that the muse inspires

  Herself his song, and loves the tuneful tribe.

  He ended, and the herald bore his charge 590

  To the old hero who with joy received

  That meed of honour at the bearer’s hand.

  Then, all, at once, assail’d the ready feast,

  And hunger now, and thirst both satisfied,

  Thus to Demodocus Ulysses spake.

  Demodocus! I give thee praise above

  All mortals, for that either thee the muse

  Jove’s daughter teaches, or the King, himself,

  Apollo; since thou so record’st the fate,

  With such clear method, of Achaia’s host, 600

  Their deeds heroic, and their num’rous toils,

  As thou hadst present been thyself, or learnt

  From others present there, the glorious tale.

  Come, then, proceed; that rare invention sing,

  The horse of wood, which by Minerva’s aid

  Epeus framed, and which Ulysses erst

  Convey’d into the citadel of Troy

  With warriors fill’d, who lay’d all Ilium waste.

  These things rehearse regular, and myself

  Will, instant, publish in the ears of all 610

  Thy fame, reporting thee a bard to whom

  Apollo free imparts celestial song.

  He ended; then Apollo with full force

  Rush’d on Demodocus, and he began

  What time the Greeks, first firing their own camp

  Steer’d all their galleys from the shore of Troy.

  Already, in the horse conceal’d, his band

  Around Ulysses sat; for Ilium’s sons

  Themselves had drawn it to the citadel.

  And there the mischief stood. Then, strife arose 620

  Among the Trojans compassing the horse,

  And threefold was the doubt; whether to cleave

  The hollow trunk asunder, or updrawn

  Aloft, to cast it headlong from th
e rocks,

  Or to permit the enormous image, kept

  Entire, to stand an off’ring to the Gods,

  Which was their destined course; for Fate had fix’d

  Their ruin sure, when once they had received

  Within their walls that engine huge, in which

  Sat all the bravest Greecians with the fate 630

  Of Ilium charged, and slaughter of her sons.

  He sang, how, from the horse effused, the Greeks

  Left their capacious ambush, and the town

  Made desolate. To others, in his song,

  He gave the praise of wasting all beside,

  But told how, fierce as Mars, Ulysses join’d

  With godlike Menelaus, to the house

  Flew of Deiphobus; him there engaged

  In direst fight he sang, and through the aid

  Of glorious Pallas, conqu’ror over all. 640

  So sang the bard illustrious, at whose song

  Ulysses melted, and tear after tear

  Fell on his cheeks. As when a woman weeps,

  Her husband, who hath fallen in defence

  Of his own city and his babes before

  The gates; she, sinking, folds him in her arms

  And, gazing on him as he pants and dies,

  Shrieks at the sight; meantime, the enemy

  Smiting her shoulders with the spear to toil

  Command her and to bondage far away, 650

  And her cheek fades with horror at the sound;

  Ulysses, so, from his moist lids let fall,

  The frequent tear. Unnoticed by the rest

  Those drops, but not by King Alcinoüs, fell

  Who, seated at his side, his heavy sighs

  Remark’d, and the Phæacians thus bespake.

  Phæacian Chiefs and Senators attend!

  Now let Demodocus enjoin his harp

  Silence, for not alike grateful to all

  His music sounds; during our feast, and since 660

  The bard divine began, continual flow

  The stranger’s sorrows, by remembrance caused

  Of some great woe which wraps his soul around.

  Then, let the bard suspend his song, that all

  (As most befits th’ occasion) may rejoice,

  Both guest and hosts together; since we make

  This voyage, and these gifts confer, in proof

  Of hospitality and unfeign’d love,

  Judging, with all wise men, the stranger-guest

  And suppliant worthy of a brother’s place. 670

  And thou conceal not, artfully reserv’d,

  What I shall ask, far better plain declared

  Than smother’d close; who art thou? speak thy name,

  The name by which thy father, mother, friends

  And fellow-citizens, with all who dwell

  Around thy native city, in times past

  Have known thee; for of all things human none

  Lives altogether nameless, whether good

  Or whether bad, but ev’ry man receives

  Ev’n in the moment of his birth, a name. 680

  Thy country, people, city, tell; the mark

  At which my ships, intelligent, shall aim,

  That they may bear thee thither; for our ships

  No pilot need or helm, as ships are wont,

  But know, themselves, our purpose; know beside

  All cities, and all fruitful regions well

  Of all the earth, and with dark clouds involv’d

  Plough rapid the rough Deep, fearless of harm,

  (Whate’er betide) and of disast’rous wreck.

  Yet thus, long since, my father I have heard 690

  Nausithoüs speaking; Neptune, he would say,

  Is angry with us, for that safe we bear

  Strangers of ev’ry nation to their home;

  And he foretold a time when he would smite

  In vengeance some Phæacian gallant bark

  Returning after convoy of her charge,

  And fix her in the sable flood, transform’d

  Into a mountain, right before the town.

  So spake my hoary Sire, which let the God

  At his own pleasure do, or leave undone. 700

  But tell me truth, and plainly. Where have been

  Thy wand’rings? in what regions of the earth

  Hast thou arrived? what nations hast thou seen,

  What cities? say, how many hast thou found

  Harsh, savage and unjust? how many, kind

  To strangers, and disposed to fear the Gods?

  Say also, from what secret grief of heart

  Thy sorrows flow, oft as thou hear’st the fate

  Of the Achaians, or of Ilium sung?

  That fate the Gods prepared; they spin the thread 710

  Of man’s destruction, that in after days

  The bard may make the sad event his theme.

  Perish’d thy father or thy brother there?

  Or hast thou at the siege of Ilium lost

  Father-in-law, or son-in-law? for such

  Are next and dearest to us after those

  Who share our own descent; or was the dead

  Thy bosom-friend, whose heart was as thy own?

  For worthy as a brother of our love

  The constant friend and the discrete I deem. 720

  BOOK IX

  ARGUMENT

  Ulysses discovers himself to the Phæacians, and begins the history of his

  adventures. He destroys Ismarus, city of the Ciconians; arrives among the

  Lotophagi; and afterwards at the land of the Cyclops. He is imprisoned by

  Polypheme in his cave, who devours six of his companions; intoxicates the

  monster with wine, blinds him while he sleeps, and escapes from him.

  Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.

  Alcinoüs! King! illustrious above all

  Phæacia’s sons, pleasant it is to hear

  A bard like this, sweet as the Gods in song.

  The world, in my account, no sight affords

  More gratifying than a people blest

  With cheerfulness and peace, a palace throng’d

  With guests in order ranged, list’ning to sounds

  Melodious, and the steaming tables spread

  With plenteous viands, while the cups, with wine 10

  From brimming beakers fill’d, pass brisk around.

  No lovelier sight know I. But thou, it seems,

  Thy thoughts hast turn’d to ask me whence my groans

  And tears, that I may sorrow still the more.

  What first, what next, what last shall I rehearse,

  On whom the Gods have show’r’d such various woes?

  Learn first my name, that even in this land

  Remote I may be known, and that escaped

  From all adversity, I may requite

  Hereafter, this your hospitable care 20

  At my own home, however distant hence.

  I am Ulysses, fear’d in all the earth

  For subtlest wisdom, and renown’d to heaven,

  The offspring of Laertes; my abode

  Is sun-burnt Ithaca; there waving stands

  The mountain Neritus his num’rous boughs,

  And it is neighbour’d close by clust’ring isles

  All populous; thence Samos is beheld,

  Dulichium, and Zacynthus forest-clad.

  Flat on the Deep she lies, farthest removed 30

  Toward the West, while, situate apart,

  Her sister islands face the rising day;

  Rugged she is, but fruitful nurse of sons

  Magnanimous; nor shall these eyes behold,

  Elsewhere, an object dear and sweet as she.

  Calypso, beauteous Goddess, in her grot

  Detain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;

  Ææan Circe also, skill’d profound

  In potent arts, within her palace long

  Detain’d me, wis
hing me her own espoused; 40

  But never could they warp my constant mind.

  So much our parents and our native soil

  Attract us most, even although our lot

  Be fair and plenteous in a foreign land.

  But come — my painful voyage, such as Jove

  Gave me from Ilium, I will now relate.

  From Troy the winds bore me to Ismarus,

  City of the Ciconians; them I slew,

  And laid their city waste; whence bringing forth

  Much spoil with all their wives, I portion’d it 50

  With equal hand, and each received a share.

  Next, I exhorted to immediate flight

  My people; but in vain; they madly scorn’d

  My sober counsel, and much wine they drank,

  And sheep and beeves slew num’rous on the shore.

  Meantime, Ciconians to Ciconians call’d,

  Their neighbours summoning, a mightier host

  And braver, natives of the continent,

  Expert, on horses mounted, to maintain

  Fierce fight, or if occasion bade, on foot. 60

  Num’rous they came as leaves, or vernal flow’rs

  At day-spring. Then, by the decree of Jove,

  Misfortune found us. At the ships we stood

  Piercing each other with the brazen spear,

  And till the morning brighten’d into noon,

  Few as we were, we yet withstood them all;

  But, when the sun verged westward, then the Greeks

  Fell back, and the Ciconian host prevail’d.

  Six warlike Greecians from each galley’s crew

  Perish’d in that dread field; the rest escaped. 70

  Thus, after loss of many, we pursued

  Our course, yet, difficult as was our flight,

  Went not till first we had invoked by name

  Our friends, whom the Ciconians had destroy’d.

  But cloud-assembler Jove assail’d us soon

  With a tempestuous North-wind; earth alike

  And sea with storms he overhung, and night

  Fell fast from heav’n. Their heads deep-plunging oft

  Our gallies flew, and rent, and rent again

  Our tatter’d sail-cloth crackled in the wind. 80

  We, fearing instant death, within the barks

  Our canvas lodg’d, and, toiling strenuous, reach’d

  At length the continent. Two nights we lay

  Continual there, and two long days, consumed

  With toil and grief; but when the beauteous morn

  Bright-hair’d, had brought the third day to a close,

  (Our masts erected, and white sails unfurl’d)

  Again we sat on board; meantime, the winds

  Well managed by the steersman, urged us on.

  And now, all danger pass’d, I had attain’d 90

  My native shore, but, doubling in my course