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William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

Page 174

by William Cowper


  That thou should’st greet thy father with a face

  Of wild astonishment, and stand aghast.

  Ulysses, save myself, none comes, be sure.

  Such as thou seest, after ten thousand woes

  Which I have borne, I visit once again

  My native country in the twentieth year.

  This wonder Athenæan Pallas wrought,

  She cloath’d me even with what form she would,

  For so she can. Now poor I seem and old, 250

  Now young again, and clad in fresh attire.

  The Gods who dwell in yonder heav’n, with ease

  Dignify or debase a mortal man.

  So saying, he sat. Then threw Telemachus

  His arms around his father’s neck, and wept.

  Desire intense of lamentation seized

  On both; soft murmurs utt’ring, each indulged

  His grief, more frequent wailing than the bird,

  (Eagle, or hook-nail’d vulture) from whose nest

  Some swain hath stol’n her yet unfeather’d young. 260

  So from their eyelids they big drops distill’d

  Of tend’rest grief, nor had the setting sun

  Cessation of their weeping seen, had not

  Telemachus his father thus address’d.

  What ship convey’d thee to thy native shore,

  My father! and what country boast the crew?

  For, that on foot thou not arriv’dst, is sure.

  Then thus divine Ulysses toil-inured.

  My son! I will explicit all relate.

  Conducted by Phæacia’s maritime sons 270

  I came, a race accustom’d to convey

  Strangers who visit them across the Deep.

  Me, o’er the billows in a rapid bark

  Borne sleeping, on the shores of Ithaca

  They lay’d; rich gifts they gave me also, brass,

  Gold in full bags, and beautiful attire,

  Which, warn’d from heav’n, I have in caves conceal’d.

  By Pallas prompted, hither I repair’d

  That we might plan the slaughter of our foes,

  Whose numbers tell me now, that I may know 280

  How pow’rful, certainly, and who they are,

  And consultation with my dauntless heart

  May hold, if we be able to contend

  Ourselves with all, or must have aid beside.

  Then, answer thus his son, discrete, return’d.

  My father! thy renown hath ever rung

  In thy son’s ears, and by report thy force

  In arms, and wisdom I have oft been told.

  But terribly thou speak’st; amazement-fixt

  I hear; can two a multitude oppose, 290

  And valiant warriors all? for neither ten

  Are they, nor twenty, but more num’rous far.

  Learn, now, their numbers. Fifty youths and two

  Came from Dulichium; they are chosen men,

  And six attendants follow in their train;

  From Samos twenty youths and four arrive,

  Zacynthus also of Achaia’s sons

  Sends twenty more, and our own island adds,

  Herself, her twelve chief rulers; Medon, too,

  Is there the herald, and the bard divine, 300

  With other two, intendants of the board.

  Should we within the palace, we alone,

  Assail them all, I fear lest thy revenge

  Unpleasant to thyself and deadly prove,

  Frustrating thy return. But recollect —

  Think, if thou canst, on whose confed’rate arm

  Strenuous on our behalf we may rely.

  To him replied his patient father bold.

  I will inform thee. Mark. Weigh well my words.

  Will Pallas and the everlasting Sire 310

  Alone suffice? or need we other aids?

  Then answer thus Telemachus return’d.

  Good friends indeed are they whom thou hast named,

  Though throned above the clouds; for their controul

  Is universal both in earth and heav’n.

  To whom Ulysses, toil-worn Chief renown’d.

  Not long will they from battle stand aloof,

  When once, within my palace, in the strength

  Of Mars, to sharp decision we shall urge

  The suitors. But thyself at early dawn 320

  Our mansion seek, that thou may’st mingle there

  With that imperious throng; me in due time

  Eumæus to the city shall conduct,

  In form a miserable beggar old.

  But should they with dishonourable scorn

  Insult me, thou unmov’d my wrongs endure,

  And should they even drag me by the feet

  Abroad, or smite me with the spear, thy wrath

  Refraining, gently counsel them to cease

  From such extravagance; but well I know 330

  That cease they will not, for their hour is come.

  And mark me well; treasure what now I say

  Deep in thy soul. When Pallas shall, herself,

  Suggest the measure, then, shaking my brows,

  I will admonish thee; thou, at the sign,

  Remove what arms soever in the hall

  Remain, and in the upper palace safe

  Dispose them; should the suitors, missing them,

  Perchance interrogate thee, then reply

  Gently — I have removed them from the smoke; 340

  For they appear no more the arms which erst

  Ulysses, going hence to Ilium, left,

  But smirch’d and sullied by the breath of fire.

  This weightier reason (thou shalt also say)

  Jove taught me; lest, intoxicate with wine,

  Ye should assault each other in your brawls,

  Shaming both feast and courtship; for the view

  Itself of arms incites to their abuse.

  Yet leave two faulchions for ourselves alone,

  Two spears, two bucklers, which with sudden force 350

  Impetuous we will seize, and Jove all-wise

  Their valour shall, and Pallas, steal away.

  This word store also in remembrance deep —

  If mine in truth thou art, and of my blood,

  Then, of Ulysses to his home returned

  Let none hear news from thee, no, not my sire

  Laertes, nor Eumæus, nor of all

  The menials any, or ev’n Penelope,

  That thou and I, alone, may search the drift

  Of our domestic women, and may prove 360

  Our serving-men, who honours and reveres

  And who contemns us both, but chiefly thee

  So gracious and so worthy to be loved.

  Him then thus answer’d his illustrious son.

  Trust me, my father! thou shalt soon be taught

  That I am not of drowsy mind obtuse.

  But this I think not likely to avail

  Or thee or me; ponder it yet again;

  For tedious were the task, farm after farm

  To visit of those servants, proving each, 370

  And the proud suitors merciless devour

  Meantime thy substance, nor abstain from aught.

  Learn, if thou wilt, (and I that course myself

  Advise) who slights thee of the female train,

  And who is guiltless; but I would not try

  From house to house the men, far better proved

  Hereafter, if in truth by signs from heav’n

  Inform’d, thou hast been taught the will of Jove.

  Thus they conferr’d. The gallant bark, meantime,

  Reach’d Ithaca, which from the Pylian shore 380

  Had brought Telemachus with all his band.

  Within the many-fathom’d port arrived

  His lusty followers haled her far aground,

  Then carried thence their arms, but to the house

  Of Clytius the illustrious gifts convey’d.
/>   Next to the royal mansion they dispatch’d

  An herald charg’d with tidings to the Queen,

  That her Telemachus had reach’d the cot

  Of good Eumæus, and the bark had sent

  Home to the city; lest the matchless dame 390

  Should still deplore the absence of her son.

  They, then, the herald and the swine-herd, each

  Bearing like message to his mistress, met,

  And at the palace of the godlike Chief

  Arriving, compass’d by the female throng

  Inquisitive, the herald thus began.

  Thy son, O Queen! is safe; ev’n now return’d.

  Then, drawing nigh to her, Eumæus told

  His message also from her son received,

  And, his commission punctually discharged, 400

  Leaving the palace, sought his home again.

  Grief seized and anguish, at those tidings, all

  The suitors; issuing forth, on the outside

  Of the high wall they sat, before the gate,

  When Polybus’ son, Eurymachus, began.

  My friends! his arduous task, this voyage, deem’d

  By us impossible, in our despight

  Telemachus hath atchieved. Haste! launch we forth

  A sable bark, our best, which let us man

  With mariners expert, who, rowing forth 410

  Swiftly, shall summon our companions home.

  Scarce had he said, when turning where he sat,

  Amphinomus beheld a bark arrived

  Just then in port; he saw them furling sail,

  And seated with their oars in hand; he laugh’d

  Through pleasure at that sight, and thus he spake.

  Our message may be spared. Lo! they arrive.

  Either some God inform’d them, or they saw,

  Themselves, the vessel of Telemachus

  Too swiftly passing to be reach’d by theirs. 420

  He spake; they, rising, hasted to the shore.

  Alert they drew the sable bark aground,

  And by his servant each his arms dispatch’d

  To his own home. Then, all, to council those

  Assembling, neither elder of the land

  Nor youth allow’d to join them, and the rest

  Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, thus bespake.

  Ah! how the Gods have rescued him! all day

  Perch’d on the airy mountain-top, our spies

  Successive watch’d; and, when the sun declined, 430

  We never slept on shore, but all night long

  Till sacred dawn arose, plow’d the abyss,

  Hoping Telemachus, that we might seize

  And slay him, whom some Deity hath led,

  In our despight, safe to his home again.

  But frame we yet again means to destroy

  Telemachus; ah — let not Him escape!

  For end of this our task, while he survives,

  None shall be found, such prudence he displays

  And wisdom, neither are the people now 440

  Unanimous our friends as heretofore.

  Come, then — prevent him, ere he call the Greeks

  To council; for he will not long delay,

  But will be angry, doubtless, and will tell

  Amid them all, how we in vain devised

  His death, a deed which they will scarce applaud,

  But will, perhaps, punish and drive us forth

  From our own country to a distant land. —

  Prevent him, therefore, quickly; in the field

  Slay him, or on the road; so shall his wealth 450

  And his possessions on ourselves devolve

  Which we will share equally, but his house

  Shall be the Queen’s, and his whom she shall wed.

  Yet, if not so inclined, ye rather chuse

  That he should live and occupy entire

  His patrimony, then, no longer, here

  Assembled, let us revel at his cost,

  But let us all with spousal gifts produced

  From our respective treasures, woo the Queen,

  Leaving her in full freedom to espouse 460

  Who proffers most, and whom the fates ordain.

  He ceased; the assembly silent sat and mute.

  Then rose Amphinomus amid them all,

  Offspring renown’d of Nisus, son, himself,

  Of King Aretias. He had thither led

  The suitor train who from the pleasant isle

  Corn-clad of green Dulichium had arrived,

  And by his speech pleased far beyond them all

  Penelope, for he was just and wise,

  And thus, well-counselling the rest, began. 470

  Not I, my friends! far be the thought from me

  To slay Telemachus! it were a deed

  Momentous, terrible, to slay a prince.

  First, therefore, let us counsel ask of heav’n,

  And if Jove’s oracle that course approve,

  I will encourage you, and will myself

  Be active in his death; but if the Gods

  Forbid it, then, by my advice, forbear.

  So spake Amphinomus, whom all approved.

  Arising then, into Ulysses’ house 480

  They went, where each his splendid seat resumed.

  A novel purpose occupied, meantime,

  Penelope; she purposed to appear

  Before her suitors, whose design to slay

  Telemachus she had from Medon learn’d,

  The herald, for his ear had caught the sound.

  Toward the hall with her attendant train

  She moved, and when, most graceful of her sex,

  Where sat the suitors she arrived, between

  The columns standing of the stately dome, 490

  And covering with her white veil’s lucid folds

  Her features, to Antinoüs thus she spake.

  Antinoüs, proud, contentious, evermore

  To mischief prone! the people deem thee wise

  Past thy compeers, and in all grace of speech

  Pre-eminent, but such wast never thou.

  Inhuman! why is it thy dark design

  To slay Telemachus? and why with scorn

  Rejectest thou the suppliant’s pray’r, which Jove

  Himself hath witness’d? Plots please not the Gods. 500

  Know’st not that thy own father refuge found

  Here, when he fled before the people’s wrath

  Whom he had irritated by a wrong

  Which, with a band of Taphian robbers joined,

  He offer’d to the Thesprots, our allies?

  They would have torn his heart, and would have laid

  All his delights and his possessions waste,

  But my Ulysses slaked the furious heat

  Of their revenge, whom thou requitest now

  Wasting his goods, soliciting his wife, 510

  Slaying his son, and filling me with woe.

  But cease, I charge thee, and bid cease the rest.

  To whom the son of Polybus replied,

  Eurymachus. — Icarius’ daughter wise!

  Take courage, fair Penelope, and chace

  These fears unreasonable from thy mind!

  The man lives not, nor shall, who while I live,

  And faculty of sight retain, shall harm

  Telemachus, thy son. For thus I say,

  And thus will I perform; his blood shall stream 520

  A sable current from my lance’s point

  That moment; for the city-waster Chief

  Ulysses, oft, me placing on his knees,

  Hath fill’d my infant grasp with sav’ry food,

  And giv’n me ruddy wine. I, therefore, hold

  Telemachus of all men most my friend,

  Nor hath he death to fear from hand of ours.

  Yet, if the Gods shall doom him, die he must.

  So he encouraged her, who yet, himself,

  Plotted his death. She, re-ascend
ing, sought 530

  Her stately chamber, and, arriving there,

  Deplored with tears her long-regretted Lord

  Till Athenæan Pallas azure-eyed

  Dews of soft slumber o’er her lids diffused.

  And now, at even-tide, Eumæus reach’d

  Ulysses and his son. A yearling swine

  Just slain they skilfully for food prepared,

  When Pallas, drawing nigh, smote with her wand

  Ulysses, at the stroke rend’ring him old,

  And his apparel sordid as before, 540

  Lest, knowing him, the swain at once should seek

  Penelope, and let the secret forth.

  Then foremost him Telemachus address’d.

  Noble Eumæus! thou art come; what news

  Bring’st from the city? Have the warrior band

  Of suitors, hopeless of their ambush, reach’d

  The port again, or wait they still for me?

  To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

  No time for such enquiry, nor to range,

  Curious, the streets had I, but anxious wish’d 550

  To make my message known, and to return.

  But, as it chanced, a nimble herald sent

  From thy companions, met me on the way,

  Who reach’d thy mother first. Yet this I know,

  For this I saw. Passing above the town

  Where they have piled a way-side hill of stones

  To Mercury, I beheld a gallant bark

  Ent’ring the port; a bark she was of ours,

  The crew were num’rous, and I mark’d her deep-

  Laden with shields and spears of double edge. 560

  Theirs I conjectured her, and could no more.

  He spake, and by Eumæus unperceived,

  Telemachus his father eyed and smiled.

  Their task accomplish’d, and the table spread,

  They ate, nor any his due portion miss’d,

  And hunger, now, and thirst both sated, all

  To rest repair’d, and took the gift of sleep.

  BOOK XVII

  ARGUMENT

  Telemachus returns to the city, and relates to his mother the principal

  passages of his voyage; Ulysses, conducted by Eumæus, arrives there also,

  and enters among the suitors, having been known only by his old dog

  Argus, who dies at his feet. The curiosity of Penelope being excited by

  the account which Eumæus gives her of Ulysses, she orders him immediately

  into her presence, but Ulysses postpones the interview till evening, when

  the suitors having left the palace, there shall be no danger of

  interruption. Eumæus returns to his cottage.

  Now look’d Aurora from the East abroad,

  When the illustrious offspring of divine

  Ulysses bound his sandals to his feet;

  He seiz’d his sturdy spear match’d to his gripe,

 

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