William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works
Page 173
At once she pitch’d headlong into the bilge
Like a sea-coot, whence heaving her again, 580
The seamen gave her to be fishes’ food,
And I survived to mourn her. But the winds
And rolling billows them bore to the coast
Of Ithaca, where with his proper goods
Laertes bought me. By such means it chanced
That e’er I saw the isle in which I dwell.
To whom Ulysses, glorious Chief, replied.
Eumæus! thou hast moved me much, thy woes
Enumerating thus at large. But Jove
Hath neighbour’d all thy evil with this good, 590
That after num’rous sorrows thou hast reach’d
The house of a kind master, at whose hands
Thy sustenance is sure, and here thou lead’st
A tranquil life; but I have late arrived,
City after city of the world explored.
Thus mutual they conferr’d, nor leisure found
Save for short sleep, by morning soon surprized.
Meantime the comrades of Telemachus
Approaching land, cast loose the sail, and lower’d
Alert the mast, then oar’d the vessel in. 600
The anchors heav’d aground, and hawsers tied
Secure, themselves, forth-issuing on the shore,
Breakfast prepared, and charged their cups with wine.
When neither hunger now, nor thirst remained
Unsatisfied, Telemachus began.
Push ye the sable bark without delay
Home to the city. I will to the field
Among my shepherds, and, (my rural works
Survey’d,) at eve will to the town return.
To-morrow will I set before you wine 610
And plenteous viands, wages of your toil.
To whom the godlike Theoclymenus.
Whither must I, my son? who, of the Chiefs
Of rugged Ithaca, shall harbour me?
Shall I to thine and to thy mother’s house?
Then thus Telemachus, discrete, replied.
I would invite thee to proceed at once
To our abode, since nought should fail thee there
Of kind reception, but it were a course
Now not adviseable; for I must myself, 620
Be absent, neither would my mother’s eyes
Behold thee, so unfrequent she appears
Before the suitors, shunning whom, she sits
Weaving continual at the palace-top.
But I will name to thee another Chief
Whom thou may’st seek, Eurymachus, the son
Renown’d of prudent Polybus, whom all
The people here reverence as a God.
Far noblest of them all is he, and seeks
More ardent than his rivals far, to wed 630
My mother, and to fill my father’s throne.
But, He who dwells above, Jove only knows
If some disastrous day be not ordain’d
For them, or ere those nuptials shall arrive.
While thus he spake, at his right hand appear’d,
Messenger of Apollo, on full wing,
A falcon; in his pounces clench’d he bore
A dove, which rending, down he pour’d her plumes
Between the galley and Telemachus.
Then, calling him apart, the prophet lock’d 640
His hand in his, and thus explain’d the sign.
Not undirected by the Gods his flight
On our right hand, Telemachus! this hawk
Hath wing’d propitious; soon as I perceived
I knew him ominous — In all the isle
No family of a more royal note
Than yours is found, and yours shall still prevail.
Whom thus Telemachus answer’d discrete.
Grant heav’n, my guest! that this good word of thine
Fail not, and soon thou shalt such bounty share 650
And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,
Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.
Then, to Piræus thus, his friend approved.
Piræus, son of Clytius! (for of all
My followers to the shore of Pylus, none
More prompt than thou hath my desires perform’d)
Now also to thy own abode conduct
This stranger, whom with hospitable care
Cherish and honour till myself arrive.
To whom Piræus answer’d, spear-renown’d. 660
Telemachus! however long thy stay,
Punctual I will attend him, and no want
Of hospitality shall he find with me.
So saying, he climb’d the ship, then bade the crew
Embarking also, cast the hawsers loose,
And each, obedient, to his bench repair’d.
Meantime Telemachus his sandals bound,
And lifted from the deck his glitt’ring spear.
Then, as Telemachus had bidden them,
Son of divine Ulysses, casting loose 670
The hawsers, forth they push’d into the Deep
And sought the city, while with nimble pace
Proceeding thence, Telemachus attain’d
The cottage soon where good Eumæus slept,
The swine-herd, faithful to his num’rous charge.
BOOK XVI
ARGUMENT
Telemachus dispatches Eumæus to the city to inform Penelope of his safe
return from Pylus; during his absence, Ulysses makes himself known to his
son. The suitors, having watched for Telemachus in vain, arrive again at
Ithaca.
It was the hour of dawn, when in the cot
Kindling fresh fire, Ulysses and his friend
Noble Eumæus dress’d their morning fare,
And sent the herdsmen with the swine abroad.
Seeing Telemachus, the watchful dogs
Bark’d not, but fawn’d around him. At that sight,
And at the sound of feet which now approach’d,
Ulysses in wing’d accents thus remark’d.
Eumæus! certain, either friend of thine
Is nigh at hand, or one whom well thou know’st; 10
Thy dogs bark not, but fawn on his approach
Obsequious, and the sound of feet I hear.
Scarce had he ceased, when his own son himself
Stood in the vestibule. Upsprang at once
Eumæus wonder-struck, and from his hand
Let fall the cups with which he was employ’d
Mingling rich wine; to his young Lord he ran,
His forehead kiss’d, kiss’d his bright-beaming eyes
And both his hands, weeping profuse the while,
As when a father folds in his embrace 20
Arrived from foreign lands in the tenth year
His darling son, the offspring of his age,
His only one, for whom he long hath mourn’d,
So kiss’d the noble peasant o’er and o’er
Godlike Telemachus, as from death escaped,
And in wing’d accents plaintive thus began.
Light of my eyes, thou com’st; it is thyself,
Sweetest Telemachus! I had no hope
To see thee more, once told that o’er the Deep
Thou hadst departed for the Pylian coast. 30
Enter, my precious son; that I may sooth
My soul with sight of thee from far arrived,
For seldom thou thy feeders and thy farm
Visitest, in the city custom’d much
To make abode, that thou may’st witness there
The manners of those hungry suitors proud.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
It will be so. There is great need, my friend!
But here, for thy sake, have I now arrived,
That I may look on thee, and from thy lips 40
Learn if my mother still reside at h
ome,
Or have become spouse of some other Chief,
Leaving untenanted Ulysses’ bed
To be by noisome spiders webb’d around.
To whom the master swine-herd in return.
Not so, she, patient still as ever, dwells
Beneath thy roof, but all her cheerless days
Despairing wastes, and all her nights in tears.
So saying, Eumæus at his hand received
His brazen lance, and o’er the step of stone 50
Enter’d Telemachus, to whom his sire
Relinquish’d, soon as he appear’d, his seat,
But him Telemachus forbidding, said —
Guest, keep thy seat; our cottage will afford
Some other, which Eumæus will provide.
He ceased, and he, returning at the word,
Reposed again; then good Eumæus spread
Green twigs beneath, which, cover’d with a fleece,
Supplied Ulysses’ offspring with a seat.
He, next, disposed his dishes on the board 60
With relicts charged of yesterday; with bread,
Alert, he heap’d the baskets; with rich wine
His ivy cup replenish’d; and a seat
Took opposite to his illustrious Lord
Ulysses. They toward the plenteous feast
Stretch’d forth their hands, (and hunger now and thirst
Both satisfied) Telemachus, his speech
Addressing to their gen’rous host, began.
Whence is this guest, my father? How convey’d
Came he to Ithaca? What country boast 70
The mariners with whom he here arrived?
For, that on foot he found us not, is sure.
To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
I will with truth answer thee, O my son!
He boasts him sprung from ancestry renown’d
In spacious Crete, and hath the cities seen
Of various lands, by fate ordain’d to roam.
Ev’n now, from a Thesprotian ship escaped,
He reach’d my cottage — but he is thy own;
I yield him to thee; treat him as thou wilt; 80
He is thy suppliant, and depends on thee.
Then thus, Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Thy words, Eumæus, pain my very soul.
For what security can I afford
To any in my house? myself am young,
Nor yet of strength sufficient to repel
An offer’d insult, and my mother’s mind
In doubtful balance hangs, if, still with me
An inmate, she shall manage my concerns,
Attentive only to her absent Lord 90
And her own good report, or shall espouse
The noblest of her wooers, and the best
Entitled by the splendour of his gifts.
But I will give him, since I find him lodg’d
A guest beneath thy roof, tunic and cloak,
Sword double-edged, and sandals for his feet,
With convoy to the country of his choice.
Still, if it please thee, keep him here thy guest,
And I will send him raiment, with supplies
Of all sorts, lest he burthen thee and thine. 100
But where the suitors come, there shall not he
With my consent, nor stand exposed to pride
And petulance like theirs, lest by some sneer
They wound him, and through him, wound also me;
For little is it that the boldest can
Against so many; numbers will prevail.
Him answer’d then Ulysses toil-inured.
Oh amiable and good! since even I
Am free to answer thee, I will avow
My heart within me torn by what I hear 110
Of those injurious suitors, who the house
Infest of one noble as thou appear’st.
But say — submittest thou to their controul
Willingly, or because the people, sway’d
By some response oracular, incline
Against thee? Thou hast brothers, it may chance,
Slow to assist thee — for a brother’s aid
Is of importance in whatever cause.
For oh that I had youth as I have will,
Or that renown’d Ulysses were my sire, 120
Or that himself might wander home again.
Whereof hope yet remains! then might I lose
My head, that moment, by an alien’s hand,
If I would fail, ent’ring Ulysses’ gate,
To be the bane and mischief of them all.
But if alone to multitudes opposed
I should perchance be foiled; nobler it were
With my own people, under my own roof
To perish, than to witness evermore
Their unexampled deeds, guests shoved aside, 130
Maidens dragg’d forcibly from room to room,
Casks emptied of their rich contents, and them
Indulging glutt’nous appetite day by day
Enormous, without measure, without end.
To whom, Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Stranger! thy questions shall from me receive
True answer. Enmity or hatred none
Subsists the people and myself between,
Nor have I brothers to accuse, whose aid
Is of importance in whatever cause, 140
For Jove hath from of old with single heirs
Our house supplied; Arcesias none begat
Except Laertes, and Laertes none
Except Ulysses, and Ulysses me
Left here his only one, and unenjoy’d.
Thence comes it that our palace swarms with foes;
For all the rulers of the neighbour isles,
Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown’d
Zacynthus, others also rulers here
In craggy Ithaca, my mother seek 150
In marriage, and my household stores consume.
But neither she those nuptial rites abhorr’d
Refuses absolute, nor yet consents
To end them; they my patrimony waste
Meantime, and will destroy me also soon,
As I expect, but heav’n disposes all.
Eumæus! haste, my father! bear with speed
News to Penelope that I am safe,
And have arrived from Pylus; I will wait
Till thou return; and well beware that none
Hear thee beside, for I have many foes.
To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’st
To one intelligent. But say beside,
Shall I not also, as I go, inform
Distress’d Laertes? who while yet he mourn’d
Ulysses only, could o’ersee the works,
And dieted among his menials oft
As hunger prompted him, but now, they say,
Since thy departure to the Pylian shore, 170
He neither eats as he was wont, nor drinks,
Nor oversees his hinds, but sighing sits
And weeping, wasted even to the bone.
Him then Telemachus answer’d discrete.
Hard though it be, yet to his tears and sighs
Him leave we now. We cannot what we would.
For, were the ordering of all events
Referr’d to our own choice, our first desire
Should be to see my father’s glad return.
But once thy tidings told, wander not thou 180
In quest of Him, but hither speed again.
Rather request my mother that she send
Her household’s governess without delay
Privately to him; she shall best inform
The ancient King that I have safe arrived.
He said, and urged him forth, who binding on
His sandals, to the city bent his way.
Nor went Eumæus from his home unmark’d
By Pallas, who in semblance of a fair
Damsel, accomplish’d in domestic arts, 190
Approaching to the cottage’ entrance, stood
Opposite, by Ulysses plain discern’d,
But to his son invisible; for the Gods
Appear not manifest alike to all.
The mastiffs saw her also, and with tone
Querulous hid themselves, yet bark’d they not.
She beckon’d him abroad. Ulysses saw
The sign, and, issuing through the outer court,
Approach’d her, whom the Goddess thus bespake.
Laertes’ progeny, for wiles renown’d! 200
Disclose thyself to thy own son, that, death
Concerting and destruction to your foes,
Ye may the royal city seek, nor long
Shall ye my presence there desire in vain,
For I am ardent to begin the fight.
Minerva spake, and with her rod of gold
Touch’d him; his mantle, first, and vest she made
Pure as new-blanch’d; dilating, next, his form,
She gave dimensions ampler to his limbs;
Swarthy again his manly hue became, 210
Round his full face, and black his bushy chin.
The change perform’d, Minerva disappear’d,
And the illustrious Hero turn’d again
Into the cottage; wonder at that sight
Seiz’d on Telemachus; askance he look’d,
Awe-struck, not unsuspicious of a God,
And in wing’d accents eager thus began.
Thou art no longer, whom I lately saw,
Nor are thy cloaths, nor is thy port the same.
Thou art a God, I know, and dwell’st in heav’n. 220
Oh, smile on us, that we may yield thee rites
Acceptable, and present thee golden gifts
Elaborate; ah spare us, Pow’r divine!
To whom Ulysses, Hero toil-inured.
I am no God. Why deem’st thou me divine?
I am thy father, for whose sake thou lead’st
A life of woe, by violence oppress’d.
So saying, he kiss’d his son, while from his cheeks
Tears trickled, tears till then, perforce restrained.
Telemachus, (for he believed him not 230
His father yet) thus, wond’ring, spake again.
My father, said’st thou? no. Thou art not He,
But some Divinity beguiles my soul
With mock’ries to afflict me still the more;
For never mortal man could so have wrought
By his own pow’r; some interposing God
Alone could render thee both young and old,
For old thou wast of late, and foully clad,
But wear’st the semblance, now, of those in heav’n!
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. 240
Telemachus! it is not well, my son!