William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

by William Cowper

  Neptune, my father’s brother, sore incensed

  For his son’s sake deprived of sight by thee.

  But, I will give thee proof — come now — survey

  These marks of Ithaca, and be convinced.

  This is the port of Phorcys, sea-born sage;

  That, the huge olive at the haven’s head;

  Fast by it, thou behold’st the pleasant cove

  Umbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named

  The Naiads; this the broad-arch’d cavern is

  Where thou wast wont to offer to the nymphs 420

  Many a whole hecatomb; and yonder stands

  The mountain Neritus with forests cloath’d.

  So saying, the Goddess scatter’d from before

  His eyes all darkness, and he knew the land.

  Then felt Ulysses, Hero toil-inured,

  Transport unutterable, seeing plain

  Once more his native isle. He kiss’d the glebe,

  And with uplifted hands the nymphs ador’d.

  Nymphs, Naiads, Jove’s own daughters! I despair’d

  To see you more, whom yet with happy vows 430

  I now can hail again. Gifts, as of old,

  We will hereafter at your shrines present,

  If Jove-born Pallas, huntress of the spoils,

  Grant life to me, and manhood to my son.

  Then Pallas, blue-eyed progeny of Jove.

  Take courage; trouble not thy mind with thoughts

  Now needless. Haste — delay not — far within

  This hallow’d cave’s recess place we at once

  Thy precious stores, that they may thine remain,

  Then muse together on thy wisest course. 440

  So saying, the Goddess enter’d deep the cave

  Caliginous, and its secret nooks explored

  From side to side; meantime, Ulysses brought

  All his stores into it, the gold, the brass,

  And robes magnificent, his gifts received

  From the Phæacians; safe he lodg’d them all,

  And Pallas, daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d,

  Closed fast, herself, the cavern with a stone.

  Then, on the consecrated olive’s root

  Both seated, they in consultation plann’d 450

  The deaths of those injurious suitors proud,

  And Pallas, blue-eyed Goddess, thus began.

  Laertes’ noble son, Ulysses! think

  By what means likeliest thou shalt assail

  Those shameless suitors, who have now controuled

  Three years thy family, thy matchless wife

  With language amorous and with spousal gifts

  Urging importunate; but she, with tears

  Watching thy wish’d return, hope gives to all

  By messages of promise sent to each, 460

  Framing far other purposes the while.

  Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.

  Ah, Agamemnon’s miserable fate

  Had surely met me in my own abode,

  But for thy gracious warning, pow’r divine!

  Come then — Devise the means; teach me, thyself,

  The way to vengeance, and my soul inspire

  With daring fortitude, as when we loos’d

  Her radiant frontlet from the brows of Troy.

  Would’st thou with equal zeal, O Pallas! aid 470

  Thy servant here, I would encounter thrice

  An hundred enemies, let me but perceive

  Thy dread divinity my prompt ally.

  Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

  And such I will be; not unmark’d by me,

  (Let once our time of enterprize arrive)

  Shalt thou assail them. Many, as I judge,

  Of those proud suitors who devour thy wealth

  Shall leave their brains, then, on thy palace floor.

  But come. Behold! I will disguise thee so 480

  That none shall know thee! I will parch the skin

  On thy fair body; I will cause thee shed

  Thy wavy locks; I will enfold thee round

  In such a kirtle as the eyes of all

  Shall loath to look on; and I will deform

  With blurring rheums thy eyes, so vivid erst;

  So shall the suitors deem thee, and thy wife,

  And thy own son whom thou didst leave at home,

  Some sordid wretch obscure. But seek thou first

  Thy swine-herd’s mansion; he, alike, intends 490

  Thy good, and loves, affectionate, thy son

  And thy Penelope; thou shalt find the swain

  Tending his herd; they feed beneath the rock

  Corax, at side of Arethusa’s fount,

  On acorns dieted, nutritious food

  To them, and drinking of the limpid stream.

  There waiting, question him of thy concerns,

  While I from Sparta praised for women fair

  Call home thy son Telemachus, a guest

  With Menelaus now, whom to consult 500

  In spacious Lacedæmon he is gone,

  Anxious to learn if yet his father lives.

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  And why, alas! all-knowing as thou art,

  Him left’st thou ignorant? was it that he,

  He also, wand’ring wide the barren Deep,

  Might suffer woe, while these devour his wealth?

  Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

  Grieve thou not much for him. I sent him forth

  Myself, that there arrived, he might acquire 510

  Honour and fame. No suff’rings finds he there,

  But in Atrides’ palace safe resides,

  Enjoying all abundance. Him, in truth,

  The suitors watch close ambush’d on the Deep,

  Intent to slay him ere he reach his home,

  But shall not as I judge, till of themselves

  The earth hide some who make thee, now, a prey.

  So saying, the Goddess touch’d him with a wand.

  At once o’er all his agile limbs she parch’d

  The polish’d skin; she wither’d to the root 520

  His wavy locks; and cloath’d him with the hide

  Deform’d of wrinkled age; she charged with rheums

  His eyes before so vivid, and a cloak

  And kirtle gave him, tatter’d, both, and foul,

  And smutch’d with smoak; then, casting over all

  An huge old deer-skin bald, with a long staff

  She furnish’d him, and with a wallet patch’d

  On all sides, dangling by a twisted thong.

  Thus all their plan adjusted, diff’rent ways

  They took, and she, seeking Ulysses’ son, 530

  To Lacedæmon’s spacious realm repair’d.

  BOOK XIV

  ARGUMENT

  Ulysses arriving at the house of Eumæus, is hospitably entertained, and

  spends the night there.

  Leaving the haven-side, he turn’d his steps

  Into a rugged path, which over hills

  Mantled with trees led him to the abode

  By Pallas mention’d of his noble friend

  The swine-herd, who of all Ulysses’ train

  Watch’d with most diligence his rural stores.

  Him sitting in the vestibule he found

  Of his own airy lodge commodious, built

  Amidst a level lawn. That structure neat

  Eumæus, in the absence of his Lord, 10

  Had raised, himself, with stones from quarries hewn,

  Unaided by Laertes or the Queen.

  With tangled thorns he fenced it safe around,

  And with contiguous stakes riv’n from the trunks

  Of solid oak black-grain’d hemm’d it without.

  Twelve penns he made within, all side by side,

  Lairs for his swine, and fast-immured in each

  Lay fifty pregnant females on the floor.

  The male
s all slept without, less num’rous far,

  Thinn’d by the princely wooers at their feasts 20

  Continual, for to them he ever sent

  The fattest of his saginated charge.

  Three hundred, still, and sixty brawns remained.

  Four mastiffs in adjoining kennels lay,

  Resembling wild-beasts nourish’d at the board

  Of the illustrious steward of the styes.

  Himself sat fitting sandals to his feet,

  Carved from a stain’d ox-hide. Four hinds he kept,

  Now busied here and there; three in the penns

  Were occupied; meantime, the fourth had sought 30

  The city, whither, for the suitors’ use,

  With no good will, but by constraint, he drove

  A boar, that, sacrificing to the Gods,

  Th’ imperious guests might on his flesh regale.

  Soon as those clamorous watch-dogs the approach

  Saw of Ulysses, baying loud, they ran

  Toward him; he, as ever, well-advised,

  Squatted, and let his staff fall from his hand.

  Yet foul indignity he had endured

  Ev’n there, at his own farm, but that the swain, 40

  Following his dogs in haste, sprang through the porch

  To his assistance, letting fall the hide.

  With chiding voice and vollied stones he soon

  Drove them apart, and thus his Lord bespake.

  Old man! one moment more, and these my dogs

  Had, past doubt, worried thee, who should’st have proved,

  So slain, a source of obloquy to me.

  But other pangs the Gods, and other woes

  To me have giv’n, who here lamenting sit

  My godlike master, and his fatted swine 50

  Nourish for others’ use, while he, perchance,

  A wand’rer in some foreign city, seeks

  Fit sustenance, and none obtains, if still

  Indeed he live, and view the light of day.

  But, old friend! follow me into the house,

  That thou, at least, with plenteous food refresh’d,

  And cheer’d with wine sufficient, may’st disclose

  Both who thou art, and all that thou hast borne.

  So saying, the gen’rous swine-herd introduced

  Ulysses, and thick bundles spread of twigs 60

  Beneath him, cover’d with the shaggy skin

  Of a wild goat, of which he made his couch

  Easy and large; the Hero, so received,

  Rejoiced, and thus his gratitude express’d.

  Jove grant thee and the Gods above, my host,

  For such beneficence thy chief desire!

  To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

  My guest! I should offend, treating with scorn

  The stranger, though a poorer should arrive

  Than ev’n thyself; for all the poor that are, 70

  And all the strangers are the care of Jove.

  Little, and with good will, is all that lies

  Within my scope; no man can much expect

  From servants living in continual fear

  Under young masters; for the Gods, no doubt,

  Have intercepted my own Lord’s return,

  From whom great kindness I had, else, received,

  With such a recompense as servants gain

  From gen’rous masters, house and competence,

  And lovely wife from many a wooer won, 80

  Whose industry should have requited well

  His goodness, with such blessing from the Gods

  As now attends me in my present charge.

  Much had I, therefore, prosper’d, had my Lord

  Grown old at home; but he hath died — I would

  That the whole house of Helen, one and all,

  Might perish too, for she hath many slain

  Who, like my master, went glory to win

  For Agamemnon in the fields of Troy.

  So saying, he girdled, quick, his tunic close, 90

  And, issuing, sought the styes; thence bringing two

  Of the imprison’d herd, he slaughter’d both,

  Singed them, and slash’d and spitted them, and placed

  The whole well-roasted banquet, spits and all,

  Reeking before Ulysses; last, with flour

  He sprinkled them, and filling with rich wine

  His ivy goblet, to his master sat

  Opposite, whom inviting thus he said.

  Now, eat, my guest! such as a servant may

  I set before thee, neither large of growth 100

  Nor fat; the fatted — those the suitors eat,

  Fearless of heav’n, and pitiless of man.

  Yet deeds unjust as theirs the blessed Gods

  Love not; they honour equity and right.

  Even an hostile band when they invade

  A foreign shore, which by consent of Jove

  They plunder, and with laden ships depart,

  Even they with terrours quake of wrath divine.

  But these are wiser; these must sure have learn’d

  From some true oracle my master’s death, 110

  Who neither deign with decency to woo,

  Nor yet to seek their homes, but boldly waste

  His substance, shameless, now, and sparing nought.

  Jove ne’er hath giv’n us yet the night or day

  When with a single victim, or with two

  They would content them, and his empty jars

  Witness how fast the squand’rers use his wine.

  Time was, when he was rich indeed; such wealth

  No Hero own’d on yonder continent,

  Nor yet in Ithaca; no twenty Chiefs 120

  Could match with all their treasures his alone;

  I tell thee their amount. Twelve herds of his

  The mainland graze; as many flocks of sheep;

  As many droves of swine; and hirelings there

  And servants of his own seed for his use,

  As many num’rous flocks of goats; his goats,

  (Not fewer than eleven num’rous flocks)

  Here also graze the margin of his fields

  Under the eye of servants well-approved,

  And ev’ry servant, ev’ry day, brings home 130

  The goat, of all his flock largest and best.

  But as for me, I have these swine in charge,

  Of which, selected with exactest care

  From all the herd, I send the prime to them.

  He ceas’d, meantime Ulysses ate and drank

  Voracious, meditating, mute, the death

  Of those proud suitors. His repast, at length,

  Concluded, and his appetite sufficed,

  Eumæus gave him, charged with wine, the cup

  From which he drank himself; he, glad, received 140

  The boon, and in wing’d accents thus began.

  My friend, and who was he, wealthy and brave

  As thou describ’st the Chief, who purchased thee?

  Thou say’st he perish’d for the glory-sake

  Of Agamemnon. Name him; I, perchance,

  May have beheld the Hero. None can say

  But Jove and the inhabitants of heav’n

  That I ne’er saw him, and may not impart

  News of him; I have roam’d through many a clime.

  To whom the noble swine-herd thus replied. 150

  Alas, old man! no trav’ler’s tale of him

  Will gain his consort’s credence, or his son’s;

  For wand’rers, wanting entertainment, forge

  Falsehoods for bread, and wilfully deceive.

  No wand’rer lands in Ithaca, but he seeks

  With feign’d intelligence my mistress’ ear;

  She welcomes all, and while she questions each

  Minutely, from her lids lets fall the tear

  Affectionate, as well beseems a wife

  Whose mate hath perish’d in a distant
land. 160

  Thou could’st thyself, no doubt, my hoary friend!

  (Would any furnish thee with decent vest

  And mantle) fabricate a tale with ease;

  Yet sure it is that dogs and fowls, long since,

  His skin have stript, or fishes of the Deep

  Have eaten him, and on some distant shore

  Whelm’d in deep sands his mould’ring bones are laid.

  So hath he perish’d; whence, to all his friends,

  But chiefly to myself, sorrow of heart;

  For such another Lord, gentle as he, 170

  Wherever sought, I have no hope to find,

  Though I should wander even to the house

  Of my own father. Neither yearns my heart

  So feelingly (though that desiring too)

  To see once more my parents and my home,

  As to behold Ulysses yet again.

  Ah stranger; absent as he is, his name

  Fills me with rev’rence, for he lov’d me much,

  Cared for me much, and, though we meet no more,

  Holds still an elder brother’s part in me. 180

  Him answer’d, then, the Hero toil-inured.

  My friend! since his return, in thy account,

  Is an event impossible, and thy mind

  Always incredulous that hope rejects,

  I shall not slightly speak, but with an oath —

  Ulysses comes again; and I demand

  No more, than that the boon such news deserves,

  Be giv’n me soon as he shall reach his home.

  Then give me vest and mantle fit to wear,

  Which, ere that hour, much as I need them both, 190

  I neither ask, nor will accept from thee.

  For him whom poverty can force aside

  From truth — I hate him as the gates of hell.

  Be Jove, of all in heav’n, my witness first,

  Then, this thy hospitable board, and, last,

  The household Gods of the illustrious Chief

  Himself, Ulysses, to whose gates I go,

  That all my words shall surely be fulfill’d.

  In this same year Ulysses shall arrive,

  Ere, this month closed, another month succeed, 200

  He shall return, and punish all who dare

  Insult his consort and his noble son.

  To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

  Old friend! that boon thou wilt ne’er earn from me;

  Ulysses comes no more. But thou thy wine

  Drink quietly, and let us find, at length,

  Some other theme; recall not this again

  To my remembrance, for my soul is grieved

  Oft as reminded of my honour’d Lord.

  Let the oath rest, and let Ulysses come 210

  Ev’n as myself, and as Penelope,

  And as his ancient father, and his son