William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

by William Cowper

  Farewell, O Queen, a long farewell, till age

  Arrive, and death, the appointed lot of all!

  I go; but be this people, and the King

  Alcinoüs, and thy progeny, thy joy

  Yet many a year beneath this glorious roof!

  So saying, the Hero through the palace-gate

  Issued, whom, by Alcinoüs’ command,

  The royal herald to his vessel led.

  Three maidens also of Areta’s train 80

  His steps attended; one, the robe well-bleach’d

  And tunic bore; the corded coffer, one;

  And food the third, with wine of crimson hue.

  Arriving where the galley rode, each gave

  Her charge to some brave mariner on board,

  And all was safely stow’d. Meantime were spread

  Linen and arras on the deck astern,

  For his secure repose. And now the Chief

  Himself embarking, silent lay’d him down.

  Then, ev’ry rower to his bench repair’d; 90

  They drew the loosen’d cable from its hold

  In the drill’d rock, and, resupine, at once

  With lusty strokes upturn’d the flashing waves.

  His eye-lids, soon, sleep, falling as a dew,

  Closed fast, death’s simular, in sight the same.

  She, as four harness’d stallions o’er the plain

  Shooting together at the scourge’s stroke,

  Toss high their manes, and rapid scour along,

  So mounted she the waves, while dark the flood

  Roll’d after her of the resounding Deep. 100

  Steady she ran and safe, passing in speed

  The falcon, swiftest of the fowls of heav’n;

  With such rapidity she cut the waves,

  An hero bearing like the Gods above

  In wisdom, one familiar long with woe

  In fight sustain’d, and on the perilous flood,

  Though sleeping now serenely, and resign’d

  To sweet oblivion of all sorrow past.

  The brightest star of heav’n, precursor chief

  Of day-spring, now arose, when at the isle 110

  (Her voyage soon perform’d) the bark arrived.

  There is a port sacred in Ithaca

  To Phorcys, hoary ancient of the Deep,

  Form’d by converging shores, prominent both

  And both abrupt, which from the spacious bay

  Exclude all boist’rous winds; within it, ships

  (The port once gain’d) uncabled ride secure.

  An olive, at the haven’s head, expands

  Her branches wide, near to a pleasant cave

  Umbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named 120

  The Naiads. In that cave beakers of stone

  And jars are seen; bees lodge their honey there;

  And there, on slender spindles of the rock

  The nymphs of rivers weave their wond’rous robes.

  Perennial springs water it, and it shows

  A twofold entrance; ingress one affords

  To mortal man, which Northward looks direct,

  But holier is the Southern far; by that

  No mortal enters, but the Gods alone.

  Familiar with that port before, they push’d 130

  The vessel in; she, rapid, plow’d the sands

  With half her keel, such rowers urged her on.

  Descending from the well-bench’d bark ashore,

  They lifted forth Ulysses first, with all

  His splendid couch complete, then, lay’d him down

  Still wrapt in balmy slumber on the sands.

  His treasures, next, by the Phæacian Chiefs

  At his departure given him as the meed

  Due to his wisdom, at the olive’s foot

  They heap’d, without the road, lest, while he slept 140

  Some passing traveller should rifle them.

  Then homeward thence they sped. Nor Ocean’s God

  His threats forgot denounced against divine

  Ulysses, but with Jove thus first advised.

  Eternal Sire! I shall no longer share

  Respect and reverence among the Gods,

  Since, now, Phæacia’s mortal race have ceas’d

  To honour me, though from myself derived.

  It was my purpose, that by many an ill

  Harass’d, Ulysses should have reach’d his home, 150

  Although to intercept him, whose return

  Thyself had promis’d, ne’er was my intent.

  But him fast-sleeping swiftly o’er the waves

  They have conducted, and have set him down

  In Ithaca, with countless gifts enrich’d,

  With brass, and tissued raiment, and with gold;

  Much treasure! more than he had home convey’d

  Even had he arrived with all his share

  Allotted to him of the spoils of Troy.

  To whom the cloud-assembler God replied. 160

  What hast thou spoken, Shaker of the shores,

  Wide-ruling Neptune? Fear not; thee the Gods

  Will ne’er despise; dangerous were the deed

  To cast dishonour on a God by birth

  More ancient, and more potent far than they.

  But if, profanely rash, a mortal man

  Should dare to slight thee, to avenge the wrong

  Some future day is ever in thy pow’r.

  Accomplish all thy pleasure, thou art free.

  Him answer’d, then, the Shaker of the shores. 170

  Jove cloud-enthroned! that pleasure I would soon

  Perform, as thou hast said, but that I watch

  Thy mind continual, fearful to offend.

  My purpose is, now to destroy amid

  The dreary Deep yon fair Phæacian bark,

  Return’d from safe conveyance of her freight;

  So shall they waft such wand’rers home no more,

  And she shall hide their city, to a rock

  Transform’d of mountainous o’ershadowing size.

  Him, then, Jove answer’d, gath’rer of the clouds. 180

  Perform it, O my brother, and the deed

  Thus done, shall best be done — What time the people

  Shall from the city her approach descry,

  Fix her to stone transform’d, but still in shape

  A gallant bark, near to the coast, that all

  May wonder, seeing her transform’d to stone

  Of size to hide their city from the view.

  These words once heard, the Shaker of the shores

  Instant to Scheria, maritime abode

  Of the Phæacians, went. Arrived, he watch’d. 190

  And now the flying bark full near approach’d,

  When Neptune, meeting her, with out-spread palm

  Depress’d her at a stroke, and she became

  Deep-rooted stone. Then Neptune went his way.

  Phæacia’s ship-ennobled sons meantime

  Conferring stood, and thus, in accents wing’d,

  Th’ amazed spectator to his fellow spake.

  Ah! who hath sudden check’d the vessel’s course

  Homeward? this moment she was all in view.

  Thus they, unconscious of the cause, to whom 200

  Alcinoüs, instructing them, replied.

  Ye Gods! a prophecy now strikes my mind

  With force, my father’s. He was wont to say —

  Neptune resents it, that we safe conduct

  Natives of ev’ry region to their home.

  He also spake, prophetic, of a day

  When a Phæacian gallant bark, return’d

  After conveyance of a stranger hence,

  Should perish in the dreary Deep, and changed

  To a huge mountain, cover all the town. 210

  So spake my father, all whose words we see

  This day fulfill’d. Thus, therefore, act we all

  Unanimous; henceforth no longer bear

&n
bsp; The stranger home, when such shall here arrive;

  And we will sacrifice, without delay,

  Twelve chosen bulls to Neptune, if, perchance,

  He will commiserate us, and forbear

  To hide our town behind a mountain’s height.

  He spake, they, terrified, the bulls prepared.

  Thus all Phæacia’s Senators and Chiefs 220

  His altar compassing, in pray’r adored

  The Ocean’s God. Meantime, Ulysses woke,

  Unconscious where; stretch’d on his native soil

  He lay, and knew it not, long-time exiled.

  For Pallas, progeny of Jove, a cloud

  Drew dense around him, that, ere yet agnized

  By others, he might wisdom learn from her,

  Neither to citizens, nor yet to friends

  Reveal’d, nor even to his own espoused,

  Till, first, he should avenge complete his wrongs 230

  Domestic from those suitors proud sustained.

  All objects, therefore, in the Hero’s eyes

  Seem’d alien, foot-paths long, commodious ports,

  Heav’n-climbing rocks, and trees of amplest growth.

  Arising, fixt he stood, his native soil

  Contemplating, till with expanded palms

  Both thighs he smote, and, plaintive, thus began.

  Ah me! what mortal race inhabits here?

  Rude are they, contumacious and unjust,

  Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods? 240

  Where now shall I secrete these num’rous stores?

  Where wander I, myself? I would that still

  Phæacians own’d them, and I had arrived

  In the dominions of some other King

  Magnanimous, who would have entertain’d

  And sent me to my native home secure!

  Now, neither know I where to place my wealth,

  Nor can I leave it here, lest it become

  Another’s prey. Alas! Phæacia’s Chiefs

  Not altogether wise I deem or just, 250

  Who have misplaced me in another land,

  Promis’d to bear me to the pleasant shores

  Of Ithaca, but have not so perform’d.

  Jove, guardian of the suppliant’s rights, who all

  Transgressors marks, and punishes all wrong,

  Avenge me on the treach’rous race! — but hold —

  I will revise my stores, so shall I know

  If they have left me here of aught despoiled.

  So saying, he number’d carefully the gold,

  The vases, tripods bright, and tissued robes, 260

  But nothing miss’d of all. Then he bewail’d

  His native isle, with pensive steps and slow

  Pacing the border of the billowy flood,

  Forlorn; but while he wept, Pallas approach’d,

  In form a shepherd stripling, girlish fair

  In feature, such as are the sons of Kings;

  A sumptuous mantle o’er his shoulders hung

  Twice-folded, sandals his nice feet upbore,

  And a smooth javelin glitter’d in his hand.

  Ulysses, joyful at the sight, his steps 270

  Turn’d brisk toward her, whom he thus address’d.

  Sweet youth! since thee, of all mankind, I first

  Encounter in this land unknown, all hail!

  Come not with purposes of harm to me!

  These save, and save me also. I prefer

  To thee, as to some God, my pray’r, and clasp

  Thy knees a suppliant. Say, and tell me true,

  What land? what people? who inhabit here?

  Is this some isle delightful, or a shore

  Of fruitful main-land sloping to the sea? 280

  Then Pallas, thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.

  Stranger! thou sure art simple, or hast dwelt

  Far distant hence, if of this land thou ask.

  It is not, trust me, of so little note,

  But known to many, both to those who dwell

  Toward the sun-rise, and to others placed

  Behind it, distant in the dusky West.

  Rugged it is, not yielding level course

  To the swift steed, and yet no barren spot,

  However small, but rich in wheat and wine; 290

  Nor wants it rain or fertilising dew,

  But pasture green to goats and beeves affords,

  Trees of all kinds, and fountains never dry.

  Ithaca therefore, stranger, is a name

  Known ev’n at Troy, a city, by report,

  At no small distance from Achaia’s shore.

  The Goddess ceased; then, toil-enduring Chief

  Ulysses, happy in his native land,

  (So taught by Pallas, progeny of Jove)

  In accents wing’d her answ’ring, utter’d prompt 300

  Not truth, but figments to truth opposite,

  For guile, in him, stood never at a pause.

  O’er yonder flood, even in spacious Crete

  I heard of Ithaca, where now, it seems,

  I have, myself, with these my stores arrived;

  Not richer stores than, flying thence, I left

  To my own children; for from Crete I fled

  For slaughter of Orsilochus the swift,

  Son of Idomeneus, whom none in speed

  Could equal throughout all that spacious isle. 310

  His purpose was to plunder me of all

  My Trojan spoils, which to obtain, much woe

  I had in battle and by storms endured,

  For that I would not gratify his Sire,

  Fighting beside him in the fields of Troy,

  But led a diff’rent band. Him from the field

  Returning homeward, with my brazen spear

  I smote, in ambush waiting his return

  At the road-side, with a confed’rate friend.

  Unwonted darkness over all the heav’ns 320

  That night prevailed, nor any eye of man

  Observed us, but, unseen, I slew the youth.

  No sooner, then, with my sharp spear of life

  I had bereft him, than I sought a ship

  Mann’d by renown’d Phæacians, whom with gifts

  Part of my spoils, and by requests, I won.

  I bade them land me on the Pylian shore,

  Or in fair Elis by th’ Epeans ruled,

  But they, reluctant, were by violent winds

  Driv’n devious thence, for fraud they purposed none. 330

  Thus through constraint we here arrived by night,

  And with much difficulty push’d the ship

  Into safe harbour, nor was mention made

  Of food by any, though all needed food,

  But, disembark’d in haste, on shore we lay.

  I, weary, slept profound, and they my goods

  Forth heaving from the bark, beside me placed

  The treasures on the sea-beach where I slept,

  Then, reimbarking, to the populous coast

  Steer’d of Sidonia, and me left forlorn. 340

  He ceased; then smiled Minerva azure-eyed

  And stroaked his cheek, in form a woman now,

  Beauteous, majestic, in all elegant arts

  Accomplish’d, and with accents wing’d replied.

  Who passes thee in artifice well-framed

  And in imposture various, need shall find

  Of all his policy, although a God.

  Canst thou not cease, inventive as thou art

  And subtle, from the wiles which thou hast lov’d

  Since thou wast infant, and from tricks of speech 350

  Delusive, even in thy native land?

  But come, dismiss we these ingenious shifts

  From our discourse, in which we both excel;

  For thou of all men in expedients most

  Abound’st and eloquence, and I, throughout

  All heav’n have praise for wisdom and for art.

  And know’st t
hou not thine Athenæan aid,

  Pallas, Jove’s daughter, who in all thy toils

  Assist thee and defend? I gave thee pow’r

  T’ engage the hearts of all Phæacia’s sons, 360

  And here arrive ev’n now, counsels to frame

  Discrete with thee, and to conceal the stores

  Giv’n to thee by the rich Phæacian Chiefs

  On my suggestion, at thy going thence.

  I will inform thee also what distress

  And hardship under thy own palace-roof

  Thou must endure; which, since constraint enjoins,

  Bear patiently, and neither man apprize

  Nor woman that thou hast arrived forlorn

  And vagabond, but silent undergo 370

  What wrongs soever from the hands of men.

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  O Goddess! thou art able to elude,

  Wherever met, the keenest eye of man,

  For thou all shapes assum’st; yet this I know

  Certainly, that I ever found thee kind,

  Long as Achaia’s Heroes fought at Troy;

  But when (the lofty tow’rs of Priam laid

  In dust) we re-embark’d, and by the will

  Of heav’n Achaia’s fleet was scatter’d wide, 380

  Thenceforth, O daughter wise of Jove, I thee

  Saw not, nor thy appearance in my ship

  Once mark’d, to rid me of my num’rous woes,

  But always bearing in my breast a heart

  With anguish riv’n, I roam’d, till by the Gods

  Relieved at length, and till with gracious words

  Thyself didst in Phæacia’s opulent land

  Confirm my courage, and becam’st my guide.

  But I adjure thee in thy father’s name —

  O tell me truly, (for I cannot hope 390

  That I have reach’d fair Ithaca; I tread

  Some other soil, and thou affirm’st it mine

  To mock me merely, and deceive) oh say —

  Am I in Ithaca? in truth, at home?

  Thus then Minerva the cærulean-eyed.

  Such caution in thy breast always prevails

  Distrustful; but I know thee eloquent,

  With wisdom and with ready thought endued,

  And cannot leave thee, therefore, thus distress’d

  For what man, save Ulysses, new-return’d 400

  After long wand’rings, would not pant to see

  At once his home, his children, and his wife?

  But thou preferr’st neither to know nor ask

  Concerning them, till some experience first

  Thou make of her whose wasted youth is spent

  In barren solitude, and who in tears

  Ceaseless her nights and woeful days consumes.

  I ne’er was ignorant, but well foreknew

  That not till after loss of all thy friends

  Thou should’st return; but loth I was to oppose 410