And to the city meditating quick
Departure now, the swine-herd thus bespake.
Father! I seek the city, to convince
My mother of my safe return, whose tears,
I judge, and lamentation shall not cease
Till her own eyes behold me. But I lay 10
On thee this charge. Into the city lead,
Thyself, this hapless guest, that he may beg
Provision there, a morsel and a drop
From such as may, perchance, vouchsafe the boon.
I cannot, vext and harass’d as I am,
Feed all, and should the stranger take offence,
The worse for him. Plain truth is my delight.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Nor is it my desire to be detained.
Better the mendicant in cities seeks 20
His dole, vouchsafe it whosoever may,
Than in the villages. I am not young,
Nor longer of an age that well accords
With rural tasks, nor could I all perform
That it might please a master to command.
Go then, and when I shall have warm’d my limbs
Before the hearth, and when the risen sun
Shall somewhat chase the cold, thy servant’s task
Shall be to guide me thither, as thou bidd’st,
For this is a vile garb; the frosty air 30
Of morning would benumb me thus attired,
And, as ye say, the city is remote.
He ended, and Telemachus in haste
Set forth, his thoughts all teeming as he went
With dire revenge. Soon in the palace-courts
Arriving, he reclined his spear against
A column, and proceeded to the hall.
Him Euryclea, first, his nurse, perceived,
While on the variegated seats she spread
Their fleecy cov’ring; swift with tearful eyes 40
She flew to him, and the whole female train
Of brave Ulysses swarm’d around his son,
Clasping him, and his forehead and his neck
Kissing affectionate; then came, herself,
As golden Venus or Diana fair,
Forth from her chamber to her son’s embrace,
The chaste Penelope; with tears she threw
Her arms around him, his bright-beaming eyes
And forehead kiss’d, and with a murmur’d plaint
Maternal, in wing’d accents thus began. 50
Thou hast return’d, light of my eyes! my son!
My lov’d Telemachus! I had no hope
To see thee more when once thou hadst embark’d
For Pylus, privily, and with no consent
From me obtain’d, news seeking of thy sire.
But haste; unfold. Declare what thou hast seen.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Ah mother! let my sorrows rest, nor me
From death so lately ‘scaped afflict anew,
But, bathed and habited in fresh attire, 60
With all the maidens of thy train ascend
To thy superior chamber, there to vow
A perfect hecatomb to all the Gods,
When Jove shall have avenged our num’rous wrongs.
I seek the forum, there to introduce
A guest, my follower from the Pylian shore,
Whom sending forward with my noble band,
I bade Piræus to his own abode
Lead him, and with all kindness entertain
The stranger, till I should myself arrive. 70
He spake, nor flew his words useless away.
She, bathed and habited in fresh attire,
Vow’d a full hecatomb to all the Gods,
Would Jove but recompense her num’rous wrongs.
Then, spear in hand, went forth her son, two dogs
Fleet-footed following him. O’er all his form
Pallas diffused a dignity divine,
And ev’ry eye gazed on him as he pass’d.
The suitors throng’d him round, joy on their lips
And welcome, but deep mischief in their hearts. 80
He, shunning all that crowd, chose to himself
A seat, where Mentor sat, and Antiphus,
And Halytherses, long his father’s friends
Sincere, who of his voyage much enquired.
Then drew Piræus nigh, leading his guest
Toward the forum; nor Telemachus
Stood long aloof, but greeted his approach,
And was accosted by Piræus thus.
Sir! send thy menial women to bring home
The precious charge committed to my care, 90
Thy gifts at Menelaus’ hands received.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Piræus! wait; for I not yet foresee
The upshot. Should these haughty ones effect
My death, clandestine, under my own roof,
And parcel my inheritance by lot,
I rather wish those treasures thine, than theirs.
But should I with success plan for them all
A bloody death, then, wing’d with joy, thyself
Bring home those presents to thy joyful friend. 100
So saying, he led the anxious stranger thence
Into the royal mansion, where arrived,
Each cast his mantle on a couch or throne,
And plung’d his feet into a polish’d bath.
There wash’d and lubricated with smooth oils,
From the attendant maidens each received
Tunic and shaggy mantle. Thus attired,
Forth from the baths they stepp’d, and sat again.
A maiden, next, with golden ewer charged,
And silver bowl, pour’d water on their hands, 110
And spread the polish’d table, which with food
Of all kinds, remnants of the last regale,
The mistress of the household charge supplied.
Meantime, beside a column of the dome
His mother, on a couch reclining, twirl’d
Her slender threads. They to the furnish’d board
Stretch’d forth their hands, and, hunger now and thirst
Both satisfied, Penelope began.
Telemachus! I will ascend again,
And will repose me on my woeful bed; 120
For such it hath been, and with tears of mine
Ceaseless bedew’d, e’er since Ulysses went
With Atreus’ sons to Troy. For not a word
Thou would’st vouchsafe me till our haughty guests
Had occupied the house again, of all
That thou hast heard (if aught indeed thou hast)
Of thy long-absent father’s wish’d return.
Her answer’d then Telemachus discrete.
Mother, at thy request I will with truth
Relate the whole. At Pylus shore arrived 130
We Nestor found, Chief of the Pylian race.
Receiving me in his august abode,
He entertain’d me with such welcome kind
As a glad father shews to his own son
Long-lost and newly found; so Nestor me,
And his illustrious offspring, entertain’d,
But yet assured me that he nought had heard
From mortal lips of my magnanimous sire,
Whether alive or dead; with his own steeds
He sent me, and with splendid chariot thence 140
To spear-famed Menelaus, Atreus’ son.
There saw I Helen, by the Gods’ decree
Auth’ress of trouble both to Greece and Troy.
The Hero Menelaus then enquired
What cause had urged me to the pleasant vale
Of Lacedæmon; plainly I rehearsed
The occasion, and the Hero thus replied.
Ye Gods! they are ambitious of the bed
Of a brave man, however base themselves.
But, as it chances wh
en the hart hath laid 150
Her fawns new-yean’d and sucklings yet, to rest
In some resistless lion’s den, she roams,
Meantime, the hills, and in the grassy vales
Feeds heedless, but the lion to his lair
Returning soon, both her and hers destroys,
So shall thy father, brave Ulysses, them.
Jove! Pallas! and Apollo! oh that such
As erst in well-built Lesbos, where he strove
With Philomelides, whom wrestling, flat
He threw, when all Achaia’s sons rejoiced, 160
Ulysses, now, might mingle with his foes!
Short life and bitter nuptials should be theirs,
But thy enquiries neither indirect
Will I evade, nor give thee false reply,
But all that from the Ancient of the Deep
I have received will utter, hiding nought.
The God declared that he had seen thy sire
In a lone island, sorrowing, and detain’d
An inmate in the grotto of the nymph
Calypso, wanting also means by which 170
To reach the country of his birth again,
For neither gallant barks nor friends had he
To speed his passage o’er the boundless waves.
So Menelaus spake, the spear-renown’d.
My errand thus accomplish’d, I return’d —
And by the Gods with gales propitious blest,
Was wafted swiftly to my native shore.
He spake, and tumult in his mother’s heart
So speaking, raised. Consolatory, next,
The godlike Theoclymenus began. 180
Consort revered of Laertiades!
Little the Spartan knew, but list to me,
For I will plainly prophesy and sure.
Be Jove of all in heav’n my witness first,
Then this thy hospitable board, and, last,
The household Gods of the illustrious Chief
Ulysses, at whose hearth I have arrived,
That, even now, within his native isle
Ulysses somewhere sits, or creeps obscure,
Witness of these enormities, and seeds 190
Sowing of dire destruction for his foes;
So sure an augury, while on the deck
Reclining of the gallant bark, I saw,
And with loud voice proclaim’d it to thy son.
Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.
Grant heav’n, my guest, that this good word of thine
Fail not! then shalt thou soon such bounty share
And friendship at my hands, that at first sight
Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.
Thus they conferr’d. Meantime the suitors hurl’d 200
The quoit and lance on the smooth area spread
Before Ulysses’ gate, the custom’d scene
Of their contentions, sports, and clamours rude.
But when the hour of supper now approach’d,
And from the pastures on all sides the sheep
Came with their wonted drivers, Medon then
(For he of all the heralds pleas’d them most,
And waited at the board) them thus address’d.
Enough of play, young princes! ent’ring now
The house, prepare we sedulous our feast, 210
Since in well-timed refreshment harm is none.
He spake, whose admonition pleas’d. At once
All, rising, sought the palace; there arrived,
Each cast his mantle off, which on his throne
Or couch he spread, then, brisk, to slaughter fell
Of many a victim; sheep and goats and brawns
They slew, all fatted, and a pastur’d ox,
Hast’ning the banquet; nor with less dispatch
Ulysses and Eumæus now prepared
To seek the town, when thus the swain began. 220
My guest! since thy fixt purpose is to seek
This day the city as my master bade,
Though I, in truth, much rather wish thee here
A keeper of our herds, yet, through respect
And rev’rence of his orders, whose reproof
I dread, for masters seldom gently chide,
I would be gone. Arise, let us depart,
For day already is far-spent, and soon
The air of even-tide will chill thee more.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. 230
It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’st
To one intelligent. Let us depart,
And lead, thyself, the way; but give me, first,
(If thou have one already hewn) a staff
To lean on, for ye have described the road
Rugged, and ofttimes dang’rous to the foot.
So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his back
He cast, suspended by a leathern twist,
Eumæus gratified him with a staff,
And forth they went, leaving the cottage kept 240
By dogs and swains. He city-ward his King
Led on, in form a squalid beggar old,
Halting, and in unseemly garb attired.
But when, slow-travelling the craggy way,
They now approach’d the town, and had attain’d
The marble fountain deep, which with its streams
Pellucid all the citizens supplied,
(Ithacus had that fountain framed of old
With Neritus and Polyctor, over which
A grove of water-nourish’d alders hung 250
Circular on all sides, while cold the rill
Ran from the rock, on whose tall summit stood
The altar of the nymphs, by all who pass’d
With sacrifice frequented, still, and pray’r)
Melantheus, son of Dolius, at that fount
Met them; the chosen goats of ev’ry flock,
With two assistants, from the field he drove,
The suitors’ supper. He, seeing them both,
In surly accent boorish, such as fired
Ulysses with resentment, thus began. 260
Ay — this is well — The villain leads the vile —
Thus evermore the Gods join like to like.
Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither would’st conduct
This morsel-hunting mendicant obscene,
Defiler base of banquets? many a post
Shall he rub smooth that props him while he begs
Lean alms, sole object of his low pursuit,
Who ne’er to sword or tripod yet aspired.
Would’st thou afford him to me for a guard
Or sweeper of my stalls, or to supply 270
My kids with leaves, he should on bulkier thewes
Supported stand, though nourish’d but with whey.
But no such useful arts hath he acquired,
Nor likes he work, but rather much to extort
From others food for his unsated maw.
But mark my prophecy, for it is true,
At famed Ulysses’ house should he arrive,
His sides shall shatter many a footstool hurl’d
Against them by the offended princes there.
He spake, and drawing nigh, with his rais’d foot, 280
Insolent as he was and brutish, smote
Ulysses’ haunch, yet shook not from his path
The firm-set Chief, who, doubtful, mused awhile
Whether to rush on him, and with his staff
To slay him, or uplifting him on high,
Downward to dash him headlong; but his wrath
Restraining, calm he suffer’d the affront.
Him then Eumæus with indignant look
Rebuking, rais’d his hands, and fervent pray’d.
Nymphs of the fountains, progeny of Jove! 290
If e’er Ulysses on your altar burn’d
The thighs of fatted lambs or kidlings, grant
This my request. O let the Hero soon
,
Conducted by some Deity, return!
So shall he quell that arrogance which safe
Thou now indulgest, roaming day by day
The city, while bad shepherds mar the flocks.
To whom the goat-herd answer thus return’d
Melantheus. Marvellous! how rare a speech
The subtle cur hath framed! whom I will send 300
Far hence at a convenient time on board
My bark, and sell him at no little gain.
I would, that he who bears the silver bow
As sure might pierce Telemachus this day
In his own house, or that the suitors might,
As that same wand’rer shall return no more!
He said, and them left pacing slow along,
But soon, himself, at his Lord’s house arrived;
There ent’ring bold, he with the suitors sat
Opposite to Eurymachus, for him 310
He valued most. The sewers his portion placed
Of meat before him, and the maiden, chief
Directress of the household gave him bread.
And now, Ulysses, with the swain his friend
Approach’d, when, hearing the harmonious lyre,
Both stood, for Phemius had begun his song.
He grasp’d the swine-herd’s hand, and thus he said.
This house, Eumæus! of Ulysses seems
Passing magnificent, and to be known
With ease for his among a thousand more. 320
One pile supports another, and a wall
Crested with battlements surrounds the court;
Firm, too, the folding doors all force of man
Defy; but num’rous guests, as I perceive,
Now feast within; witness the sav’ry steam
Fast-fuming upward, and the sounding harp,
Divine associate of the festive board.
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
Thou hast well-guess’d; no wonder, thou art quick
On ev’ry theme; but let us well forecast 330
This business. Wilt thou, ent’ring first, thyself,
The splendid mansion, with the suitors mix,
Me leaving here? or shall I lead the way
While thou remain’st behind? yet linger not,
Lest, seeing thee without, some servant strike
Or drive thee hence. Consider which were best.
Him answer’d, then, the patient Hero bold.
It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’st
To one intelligent. Lead thou the way
Me leaving here, for neither stripes nor blows 340
To me are strange. Much exercised with pain
In fight and on the Deep, I have long since
Learn’d patience. Follow, next, what follow may!
But, to suppress the appetite, I deem
Impossible; the stomach is a source
Of ills to man, an avaricious gulph
William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works Page 175
