William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

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by William Cowper


  Glad of such fare as thou hast found, or soon

  With torches beaten we will thrust thee forth.

  To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied.

  Petulant woman! wherefore thus incensed

  Inveigh’st thou against me? is it because

  I am not sleek? because my garb is mean?

  Because I beg? thanks to necessity — 90

  I would not else. But such as I appear,

  Such all who beg and all who wander are.

  I also lived the happy owner once

  Of such a stately mansion, and have giv’n

  To num’rous wand’rers, whencesoe’er they came,

  All that they needed; I was also served

  By many, and enjoy’d all that denotes

  The envied owner opulent and blest.

  But Jove (for so it pleas’d him) hath reduced

  My all to nothing. Therefore well beware 100

  Thou also, mistress, lest a day arrive

  When all these charms by which thou shin’st among

  Thy sister-menials, fade; fear, too, lest her

  Thou should’st perchance irritate, whom thou serv’st,

  And lest Ulysses come, of whose return

  Hope yet survives; but even though the Chief

  Have perish’d, as ye think, and comes no more,

  Consider yet his son, how bright the gifts

  Shine of Apollo in the illustrious Prince

  Telemachus; no woman, unobserved 110

  By him, can now commit a trespass here;

  His days of heedless infancy are past.

  He ended, whom Penelope discrete

  O’erhearing, her attendant sharp rebuked.

  Shameless, audacious woman! known to me

  Is thy great wickedness, which with thy life

  Thou shalt atone; for thou wast well aware,

  (Hearing it from myself) that I design’d

  To ask this stranger of my absent Lord,

  For whose dear sake I never cease to mourn. 120

  Then to her household’s governess she said.

  Bring now a seat, and spread it with a fleece,

  Eurynome! that, undisturb’d, the guest

  May hear and answer all that I shall ask.

  She ended. Then the matron brought in haste

  A polish’d seat, and spread it with a fleece,

  On which the toil-accustom’d Hero sat,

  And thus the chaste Penelope began.

  Stranger! my first enquiry shall be this —

  Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom? 130

  Then answer thus Ulysses, wise, return’d.

  O Queen! uncensurable by the lips

  Of mortal man! thy glory climbs the skies

  Unrivall’d, like the praise of some great King

  Who o’er a num’rous people and renown’d

  Presiding like a Deity, maintains

  Justice and truth. The earth, under his sway,

  Her produce yields abundantly; the trees

  Fruit-laden bend; the lusty flocks bring forth;

  The Ocean teems with finny swarms beneath 140

  His just controul, and all the land is blest.

  Me therefore, question of what else thou wilt

  In thy own palace, but forbear to ask

  From whom I sprang, and of my native land,

  Lest thou, reminding me of those sad themes,

  Augment my woes; for I have much endured;

  Nor were it seemly, in another’s house,

  To pass the hours in sorrow and in tears,

  Wearisome when indulg’d with no regard

  To time or place; thy train (perchance thyself) 150

  Would blame me, and I should reproach incur

  As one tear-deluged through excess of wine.

  Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.

  The immortal Gods, O stranger, then destroy’d

  My form, my grace, my beauty, when the Greeks

  Whom my Ulysses follow’d, sail’d to Troy.

  Could he, returning, my domestic charge

  Himself intend, far better would my fame

  Be so secured, and wider far diffused.

  But I am wretched now, such storms of woe 160

  The Gods have sent me; for as many Chiefs

  As hold dominion in the neighbour isles

  Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown’d

  Zacynthus; others, also, rulers here

  In pleasant Ithaca, me, loth to wed,

  Woo ceaseless, and my household stores consume.

  I therefore, neither guest nor suppliant heed,

  Nor public herald more, but with regret

  Of my Ulysses wear my soul away.

  They, meantime, press my nuptials, which by art 170

  I still procrastinate. Some God the thought

  Suggested to me, to commence a robe

  Of amplest measure and of subtlest woof,

  Laborious task; which done, I thus address’d them.

  Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief

  Ulysses is no more, enforce not now

  My nuptials; wait till I shall finish first

  A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads be marr’d)

  Which for the ancient Hero I prepare

  Laertes, looking for the mournful hour 180

  When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest.

  Else, I the censure dread of all my sex,

  Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud.

  Such was my speech; they, unsuspicious all,

  With my request complied. Thenceforth, all day

  I wove the ample web, and, by the aid

  Of torches, ravell’d it again at night.

  Three years by artifice I thus their suit

  Eluded safe; but when the fourth arrived,

  And the same season after many moons 190

  And fleeting days return’d, passing my train

  Who had neglected to release the dogs,

  They came, surprized and reprimanded me.

  Thus, through necessity, not choice, at last

  I have perform’d it, in my own despight.

  But no escape from marriage now remains,

  Nor other subterfuge for me; meantime

  My parents urge my nuptials, and my son

  (Of age to note it) with disgust observes

  His wealth consumed; for he is now become 200

  Adult, and abler than myself to rule

  The house, a Prince distinguish’d by the Gods,

  Yet, stranger, after all, speak thy descent;

  Say whence thou art; for not of fabulous birth

  Art thou, nor from the oak, nor from the rock.

  Her answer’d then Ulysses, ever-wise.

  O spouse revered of Laertiades!

  Resolv’st thou still to learn from whom I sprang?

  Learn then; but know that thou shalt much augment

  My present grief, natural to a man 210

  Who hath, like me, long exiled from his home

  Through various cities of the sons of men

  Wander’d remote, and num’rous woes endured.

  Yet, though it pain me, I will tell thee all.

  There is a land amid the sable flood

  Call’d Crete; fair, fruitful, circled by the sea.

  Num’rous are her inhabitants, a race

  Not to be summ’d, and ninety towns she boasts.

  Diverse their language is; Achaians some,

  And some indigenous are; Cydonians there, 220

  Crest-shaking Dorians, and Pelasgians dwell.

  One city in extent the rest exceeds,

  Cnossus; the city in which Minos reign’d,

  Who, ever at a nine years’ close, conferr’d

  With Jove himself; from him my father sprang

  The brave Deucalion; for Deucalion’s sons

  Were two, myself and King Idomeneus.

  To Ilium he, on board his
gallant barks,

  Follow’d the Atridæ. I, the youngest-born,

  By my illustrious name, Æthon, am known, 230

  But he ranks foremost both in worth and years.

  There I beheld Ulysses, and within

  My walls receiv’d him; for a violent wind

  Had driv’n him from Malea (while he sought

  The shores of Troy) to Crete. The storm his barks

  Bore into the Amnisus, for the cave

  Of Ilythia known, a dang’rous port,

  And which with difficulty he attain’d.

  He, landing, instant to the city went,

  Seeking Idomeneus; his friend of old, 240

  As he affirm’d, and one whom much he lov’d.

  But he was far remote, ten days advanced,

  Perhaps eleven, on his course to Troy.

  Him, therefore, I conducted to my home,

  Where hospitably, and with kindest care

  I entertain’d him, (for I wanted nought)

  And for himself procured and for his band, —

  By public contribution, corn, and wine,

  And beeves for food, that all might be sufficed.

  Twelve days his noble Greecians there abode, 250

  Port-lock’d by Boreas blowing with a force

  Resistless even on the land, some God

  So roused his fury; but the thirteenth day

  The wind all fell, and they embark’d again.

  With many a fiction specious, as he sat,

  He thus her ear amused; she at the sound

  Melting, with fluent tears her cheeks bedew’d;

  And as the snow by Zephyrus diffused,

  Melts on the mountain tops, when Eurus breathes,

  And fills the channels of the running streams, 260

  So melted she, and down her lovely cheeks

  Pour’d fast the tears, him mourning as remote

  Who sat beside her. Soft compassion touch’d

  Ulysses of his consort’s silent woe;

  His eyes as they had been of steel or horn,

  Moved not, yet artful, he suppress’d his tears,

  And she, at length with overflowing grief

  Satiate, replied, and thus enquired again.

  Now, stranger, I shall prove thee, as I judge,

  If thou, indeed, hast entertain’d in Crete 270

  My spouse and his brave followers, as thou say’st.

  Describe his raiment and himself; his own

  Appearance, and the appearance of his friends.

  Then her Ulysses answer’d, ever-wise.

  Hard is the task, O Queen! (so long a time

  Hath since elaps’d) to tell thee. Twenty years

  Have pass’d since he forsook my native isle,

  Yet, from my best remembrance, I will give

  A likeness of him, such as now I may.

  A double cloak, thick-piled, Mœonian dyed, 280

  The noble Chief had on; two fast’nings held

  The golden clasp, and it display’d in front

  A well-wrought pattern with much art design’d.

  An hound between his fore-feet holding fast

  A dappled fawn, gaped eager on his prey.

  All wonder’d, seeing, how in lifeless gold

  Express’d, the dog with open mouth her throat

  Attempted still, and how the fawn with hoofs

  Thrust trembling forward, struggled to escape.

  That glorious mantle much I noticed, soft 290

  To touch, as the dried garlick’s glossy film;

  Such was the smoothness of it, and it shone

  Sun-bright; full many a maiden, trust me, view’d

  The splendid texture with admiring eyes.

  But mark me now; deep treasure in thy mind

  This word. I know not if Ulysses wore

  That cloak at home, or whether of his train

  Some warrior gave it to him on his way,

  Or else some host of his; for many loved

  Ulysses, and with him might few compare. 300

  I gave to him, myself, a brazen sword,

  A purple cloak magnificent, and vest

  Of royal length, and when he sought his bark,

  With princely pomp dismiss’d him from the shore.

  An herald also waited on the Chief,

  Somewhat his Senior; him I next describe.

  His back was bunch’d, his visage swarthy, curl’d

  His poll, and he was named Eurybates;

  A man whom most of all his followers far

  Ulysses honour’d, for their minds were one. 310

  He ceased; she recognising all the proofs

  Distinctly by Ulysses named, was moved

  Still more to weep, till with o’erflowing grief

  Satiate, at length she answer’d him again.

  Henceforth, O stranger, thou who hadst before

  My pity, shalt my rev’rence share and love,

  I folded for him (with these hands) the cloak

  Which thou describ’st, produced it when he went,

  And gave it to him; I that splendid clasp

  Attach’d to it myself, more to adorn 320

  My honour’d Lord, whom to his native land

  Return’d secure I shall receive no more.

  In such an evil hour Ulysses went

  To that bad city never to be named.

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  Consort revered of Laertiades!

  No longer let anxiety impair

  Thy beauteous form, nor any grief consume

  Thy spirits more for thy Ulysses’ sake.

  And yet I blame thee not; a wife deprived 330

  Of her first mate to whom she had produced

  Fair fruit of mutual love, would mourn his loss,

  Although he were inferior far to thine,

  Whom fame affirms the semblance of the Gods.

  But cease to mourn. Hear me. I will relate

  A faithful tale, nor will from thee withhold

  Such tidings of Ulysses living still,

  And of his safe return, as I have heard

  Lately, in yon neighb’ring opulent land

  Of the Thesprotians. He returns enrich’d 340

  With many precious stores from those obtain’d

  Whom he hath visited; but he hath lost,

  Departing from Thrinacia’s isle, his bark

  And all his lov’d companions in the Deep,

  For Jove was adverse to him, and the Sun,

  Whose beeves his followers slew. They perish’d all

  Amid the billowy flood; but Him, the keel

  Bestriding of his bark, the waves at length

  Cast forth on the Phæacian’s land, a race

  Allied to heav’n, who rev’renced like a God 350

  Thy husband, honour’d him with num’rous gifts,

  And willing were to have convey’d him home.

  Ulysses, therefore, had attained long since

  His native shore, but that he deem’d it best

  To travel far, that he might still amass

  More wealth; so much Ulysses all mankind

  Excels in policy, and hath no peer.

  This information from Thesprotia’s King

  I gain’d, from Phidon; to myself he swore,

  Libation off’ring under his own roof, 360

  That both the bark was launch’d, and the stout crew

  Prepared, that should conduct him to his home.

  But me he first dismiss’d; for, as it chanced,

  A ship lay there of the Thesprotians, bound

  To corn-enrich’d Dulichium. All the wealth

  He shew’d me by the Chief amass’d, a store

  To feed the house of yet another Prince

  To the tenth generation; so immense

  His treasures were within that palace lodg’d.

  Himself he said was to Dodona gone, 370

  Counsel to ask from the oracular oaks

>   Sublime of Jove, how safest he might seek,

  After long exile thence, his native land,

  If openly were best, or in disguise.

  Thus, therefore, he is safe, and at his home

  Well-nigh arrived, nor shall his country long

  Want him. I swear it with a solemn oath.

  First Jove be witness, King and Lord of all!

  Next these domestic Gods of the renown’d

  Ulysses, in whose royal house I sit, 380

  That thou shalt see my saying all fulfill’d.

  Ulysses shall this self-same year return,

  This self-same month, ere yet the next begin.

  Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.

  Grant heav’n, my guest, that this good word of thine

  Fail not! then, soon shalt thou such bounty share

  And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,

  Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.

  But ah! my soul forebodes how it will prove;

  Neither Ulysses will return, nor thou 390

  Receive safe conduct hence; for we have here

  None, such as once Ulysses was, to rule

  His household with authority, and to send

  With honourable convoy to his home

  The worthy guest, or to regale him here.

  Give him the bath, my maidens; spread his couch

  With linen soft, with fleecy gaberdines

  And rugs of splendid hue, that he may lie

  Waiting, well-warm’d, the golden morn’s return.

  Attend him also at the peep of day 400

  With bath and unction, that, his seat resumed

  Here in the palace, he may be prepared

  For breakfast with Telemachus; and woe

  To him who shall presume to incommode

  Or cause him pain; that man shall be cashier’d

  Hence instant, burn his anger as it may.

  For how, my honour’d inmate! shalt thou learn

  That I in wisdom œconomic aught

  Pass other women, if unbathed, unoiled,

  Ill-clad, thou sojourn here? man’s life is short, 410

  Whoso is cruel, and to cruel arts

  Addict, on him all men, while yet he lives,

  Call plagues and curses down, and after death

  Scorn and proverbial mock’ries hunt his name.

  But men, humane themselves, and giv’n by choice

  To offices humane, from land to land

  Are rumour’d honourably by their guests,

  And ev’ry tongue is busy in their praise.

  Her answer’d then, Ulysses, ever-wise.

  Consort revered of Laertiades! 420

  Warm gaberdines and rugs of splendid hue

  To me have odious been, since first the sight

  Of Crete’s snow-mantled mountain-tops I lost,

  Sweeping the billows with extended oars.

  No; I will pass, as I am wont to pass

 

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