The sleepless night; for on a sordid couch
Outstretch’d, full many a night have I reposed
Till golden-charioted Aurora dawn’d.
Nor me the foot-bath pleases more; my foot
Shall none of all thy ministring maidens touch, 430
Unless there be some ancient matron grave
Among them, who hath pangs of heart endured
Num’rous, and keen as I have felt myself;
Her I refuse not. She may touch my feet.
Him answer’d then prudent Penelope.
Dear guest! for of all trav’llers here arrived
From distant regions, I have none received
Discrete as thou, or whom I more have lov’d,
So just thy matter is, and with such grace
Express’d. I have an ancient maiden grave, 440
The nurse who at my hapless husband’s birth
Receiv’d him in her arms, and with kind care
Maternal rear’d him; she shall wash thy feet,
Although decrepid. Euryclea, rise!
Wash one coeval with thy Lord; for such
The feet and hands, it may be, are become
Of my Ulysses now; since man beset
With sorrow once, soon wrinkled grows and old.
She said, then Euryclea with both hands
Cov’ring her face, in tepid tears profuse 450
Dissolved, and thus in mournful strains began.
Alas! my son, trouble for thy dear sake
Distracts me. Jove surely of all mankind
Thee hated most, though ever in thy heart
Devoutly giv’n; for never mortal man
So many thighs of fatted victims burn’d,
And chosen hecatombs produced as thou
To Jove the Thund’rer, him entreating still
That he would grant thee a serene old age,
And to instruct, thyself, thy glorious son. 460
Yet thus the God requites thee, cutting off
All hope of thy return — oh ancient sir!
Him too, perchance, where’er he sits a guest
Beneath some foreign roof, the women taunt,
As all these shameless ones have taunted thee,
Fearing whose mock’ry thou forbidd’st their hands
This office, which Icarius’ daughter wise
To me enjoins, and which I, glad perform.
Yes, I will wash thy feet; both for her sake
And for thy own, — for sight of thee hath raised 470
A tempest in my mind. Hear now the cause!
Full many a guest forlorn we entertain,
But never any have I seen, whose size,
The fashion of whose foot and pitch of voice,
Such likeness of Ulysses show’d, as thine.
To whom Ulysses, ever-shrewd, replied.
Such close similitude, O ancient dame!
As thou observ’st between thy Lord and me,
All, who have seen us both, have ever found.
He said; then taking the resplendent vase 480
Allotted always to that use, she first
Infused cold water largely, then, the warm.
Ulysses (for beside the hearth he sat)
Turn’d quick his face into the shade, alarm’d
Lest, handling him, she should at once remark
His scar, and all his stratagem unveil.
She then, approaching, minister’d the bath
To her own King, and at first touch discern’d
That token, by a bright-tusk’d boar of old
Impress’d, what time he to Parnassus went 490
To visit there Autolycus and his sons,
His mother’s noble sire, who all mankind
In furtive arts and fraudful oaths excell’d.
For such endowments he by gift receiv’d
From Hermes’ self, to whom the thighs of kids
He offer’d and of lambs, and, in return,
The watchful Hermes never left his side.
Autolycus arriving in the isle
Of pleasant Ithaca, the new-born son
Of his own daughter found, whom on his knees 500
At close of supper Euryclea placed,
And thus the royal visitant address’d.
Thyself, Autolycus! devise a name
For thy own daughter’s son, by num’rous pray’rs
Of thine and fervent, from the Gods obtained.
Then answer thus Autolycus return’d.
My daughter and my daughter’s spouse! the name
Which I shall give your boy, that let him bear.
Since after provocation and offence
To numbers giv’n of either sex, I come, 510
Call him Ulysses; and when, grown mature,
He shall Parnassus visit, the abode
Magnificent in which his mother dwelt,
And where my treasures lie, from my own stores
I will enrich and send him joyful home.
Ulysses, therefore, that he might obtain
Those princely gifts, went thither. Him arrived,
With right-hand gratulation and with words
Of welcome kind, Autolycus received,
Nor less his offspring; but the mother most 520
Of his own mother clung around his neck,
Amphithea; she with many a fervent kiss
His forehead press’d, and his bright-beaming eyes.
Then bade Autolycus his noble sons
Set forth a banquet. They, at his command,
Led in a fatted ox of the fifth year,
Which slaying first, they spread him carved abroad,
Then scored his flesh, transfixed it with the spits,
And roasting all with culinary skill
Exact, gave each his portion. Thus they sat 530
Feasting all day, and till the sun declined,
But when the sun declined, and darkness fell,
Each sought his couch, and took the gift of sleep.
Then, soon as day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d
Aurora look’d abroad, forth went the hounds,
And, with the hounds Ulysses, and the youths,
Sons of Autolycus, to chase the boar.
Arrived at the Parnassian mount, they climb’d
His bushy sides, and to his airy heights
Ere long attain’d. It was the pleasant hour 540
When from the gently-swelling flood profound
The sun, emerging, first smote on the fields.
The hunters reach’d the valley; foremost ran,
Questing, the hounds; behind them, swift, the sons
Came of Autolycus, with whom advanced
The illustrious Prince Ulysses, pressing close
The hounds, and brandishing his massy spear.
There, hid in thickest shades, lay an huge boar.
That covert neither rough winds blowing moist
Could penetrate, nor could the noon-day sun 550
Smite through it, or fast-falling show’rs pervade,
So thick it was, and underneath the ground
With litter of dry foliage strew’d profuse.
Hunters and dogs approaching him, his ear
The sound of feet perceived; upridging high
His bristly back and glaring fire, he sprang
Forth from the shrubs, and in defiance stood
Near and right opposite. Ulysses, first,
Rush’d on him, elevating his long spear
Ardent to wound him; but, preventing quick 560
His foe, the boar gash’d him above the knee.
Much flesh, assailing him oblique, he tore
With his rude tusk, but to the Hero’s bone
Pierced not; Ulysses his right shoulder reach’d;
And with a deadly thrust impell’d the point
Of his bright spear through him and far beyond.
Loud yell’d the boar, sank in the dust, and died.
Around Ulysses, then, the bu
sy sons
Throng’d of Autolycus; expert they braced
The wound of the illustrious hunter bold, 570
With incantation staunched the sable blood,
And sought in haste their father’s house again,
Whence, heal’d and gratified with splendid gifts
They sent him soon rejoicing to his home,
Themselves rejoicing also. Glad their son
His parents saw again, and of the scar
Enquired, where giv’n, and how? He told them all,
How to Parnassus with his friends he went,
Sons of Autolycus to hunt, and how
A boar had gash’d him with his iv’ry tusk. 580
That scar, while chafing him with open palms,
The matron knew; she left his foot to fall;
Down dropp’d his leg into the vase; the brass
Rang, and o’ertilted by the sudden shock,
Poured forth the water, flooding wide the floor.
Her spirit joy at once and sorrow seized;
Tears fill’d her eyes; her intercepted voice
Died in her throat; but to Ulysses’ beard
Her hand advancing, thus, at length, she spake.
Thou art himself, Ulysses. Oh my son! 590
Dear to me, and my master as thou art,
I knew thee not, till I had touch’d the scar.
She said, and to Penelope her eyes
Directed, all impatient to declare
Her own Ulysses even then at home.
But she, nor eye nor ear for aught that pass’d
Had then, her fixt attention so entire
Minerva had engaged. Then, darting forth
His arms, the Hero with his right-hand close
Compress’d her throat, and nearer to himself 600
Drawing her with his left, thus caution’d her.
Why would’st thou ruin me? Thou gav’st me milk
Thyself from thy own breast. See me return’d
After long suff’rings, in the twentieth year,
To my own land. But since (some God the thought
Suggesting to thee) thou hast learn’d the truth,
Silence! lest others learn it from thy lips.
For this I say, nor shall the threat be vain;
If God vouchsafe to me to overcome
The haughty suitors, when I shall inflict 610
Death on the other women of my house,
Although my nurse, thyself shalt also die.
Him answer’d Euryclea then, discrete.
My son! oh how could so severe a word
Escape thy lips? my fortitude of mind
Thou know’st, and even now shalt prove me firm
As iron, secret as the stubborn rock.
But hear and mark me well. Should’st thou prevail,
Assisted by a Pow’r divine, to slay
The haughty suitors, I will then, myself, 620
Give thee to know of all the female train
Who have dishonour’d thee, and who respect.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
My nurse, it were superfluous; spare thy tongue
That needless task. I can distinguish well
Myself, between them, and shall know them all;
But hold thy peace. Hush! leave it with the Gods.
So he; then went the ancient matron forth,
That she might serve him with a second bath,
For the whole first was spilt. Thus, laved at length, 630
And smooth’d with oil, Ulysses nearer pull’d
His seat toward the glowing hearth to enjoy
More warmth, and drew his tatters o’er the scar.
Then, prudent, thus Penelope began.
One question, stranger, I shall yet propound,
Though brief, for soon the hour of soft repose
Grateful to all, and even to the sad
Whom gentle sleep forsakes not, will arrive.
But heav’n to me immeasurable woe
Assigns, — whose sole delight is to consume 640
My days in sighs, while here retired I sit,
Watching my maidens’ labours and my own;
But (night return’d, and all to bed retired)
I press mine also, yet with deep regret
And anguish lacerated, even there.
As when at spring’s first entrance, her sweet song
The azure-crested nightingale renews,
Daughter of Pandarus; within the grove’s
Thick foliage perch’d, she pours her echoing voice
Now deep, now clear, still varying the strain 650
With which she mourns her Itylus, her son
By royal Zethus, whom she, erring, slew,
So also I, by soul-distressing doubts
Toss’d ever, muse if I shall here remain
A faithful guardian of my son’s affairs,
My husband’s bed respecting, and not less
My own fair fame, or whether I shall him
Of all my suitors follow to his home
Who noblest seems, and offers richest dow’r.
My son while he was infant yet, and own’d 660
An infant’s mind, could never give consent
That I should wed and leave him; but at length,
Since he hath reached the stature of a man,
He wishes my departure hence, the waste
Viewing indignant by the suitors made.
But I have dream’d. Hear, and expound my dream.
My geese are twenty, which within my walls
I feed with sodden wheat; they serve to amuse
Sometimes my sorrow. From the mountains came
An eagle, huge, hook-beak’d, brake all their necks, 670
And slew them; scatter’d on the palace-floor
They lay, and he soar’d swift into the skies.
Dream only as it was, I wept aloud,
Till all my maidens, gather’d by my voice,
Arriving, found me weeping still, and still
Complaining, that the eagle had at once
Slain all my geese. But, to the palace-roof
Stooping again, he sat, and with a voice
Of human sound, forbad my tears, and said —
Courage! O daughter of the far-renown’d 680
Icarius! no vain dream thou hast beheld,
But, in thy sleep, a truth. The slaughter’d geese
Denote thy suitors. I who have appear’d
An eagle in thy sight, am yet indeed
Thy husband, who have now, at last, return’d,
Death, horrid death designing for them all.
He said; then waking at the voice, I cast
An anxious look around, and saw my geese
Beside their tray, all feeding as before.
Her then Ulysses answer’d, ever-wise. 690
O Queen! it is not possible to miss
Thy dream’s plain import, since Ulysses’ self
Hath told thee the event; thy suitors all
Must perish; not one suitor shall escape.
To whom Penelope discrete replied.
Dreams are inexplicable, O my guest!
And oft-times mere delusions that receive
No just accomplishment. There are two gates
Through which the fleeting phantoms pass; of horn
Is one, and one of ivory. Such dreams 700
As through the thin-leaf’d iv’ry portal come
Sooth, but perform not, utt’ring empty sounds;
But such as through the polish’d horn escape,
If, haply seen by any mortal eye,
Prove faithful witnesses, and are fulfill’d.
But through those gates my wond’rous dream, I think,
Came not; thrice welcome were it else to me
And to my son. Now mark my words; attend.
This is the hated morn that from the house
Removes me of Ulysses. I shall fix, 710
This day,
the rings for trial to them all
Of archership; Ulysses’ custom was
To plant twelve spikes, all regular arranged
Like galley-props, and crested with a ring,
Then standing far remote, true in his aim
He with his whizzing shaft would thrid them all.
This is the contest in which now I mean
To prove the suitors; him, who with most ease
Shall bend the bow, and shoot through all the rings,
I follow, this dear mansion of my youth 720
Leaving, so fair, so fill’d with ev’ry good,
Though still to love it even in my dreams.
Her answer’d then Ulysses, ever-wise.
Consort revered of Laertiades!
Postpone not this contention, but appoint
Forthwith the trial; for Ulysses here
Will sure arrive, ere they, (his polish’d bow
Long tamp’ring) shall prevail to stretch the nerve,
And speed the arrow through the iron rings.
To whom Penelope replied discrete. 730
Would’st thou with thy sweet converse, O my guest!
Here sooth me still, sleep ne’er should influence
These eyes the while; but always to resist
Sleep’s pow’r is not for man, to whom the Gods
Each circumstance of his condition here
Fix universally. Myself will seek
My own apartment at the palace-top,
And there will lay me down on my sad couch,
For such it hath been, and with tears of mine
Ceaseless bedew’d, e’er since Ulysses went 740
To that bad city, never to be named.
There will I sleep; but sleep thou here below,
Either, thyself, preparing on the ground
Thy couch, or on a couch by these prepared.
So saying, she to her splendid chamber thence
Retired, not sole, but by her female train
Attended; there arrived, she wept her spouse,
Her lov’d Ulysses, till Minerva dropp’d
The balm of slumber on her weary lids.
BOOK XX
ARGUMENT
Ulysses, doubting whether he shall destroy or not the women servants who
commit lewdness with the suitors, resolves at length to spare them for
the present. He asks an omen from Jupiter, and that he would grant him
also to hear some propitious words from the lips of one in the family.
His petitions are both answered. Preparation is made for the feast.
Whilst the suitors sit at table, Pallas smites them with a horrid frenzy.
Theoclymenus, observing the strange effects of it, prophesies their
destruction, and they deride his prophecy.
But in the vestibule the Hero lay
On a bull’s-hide undress’d, o’er which he spread
William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works Page 180
