Is none, the fowler’s heart leaps with delight,
So they, pursuing through the spacious hall
The suitors, smote them on all sides, their heads
Sounded beneath the sword, with hideous groans
The palace rang, and the floor foamed with blood.
Then flew Leiodes to Ulysses’ knees, 360
Which clasping, in wing’d accents thus he cried.
I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect
My suit, and spare me! Never have I word
Injurious spoken, or injurious deed
Attempted ‘gainst the women of thy house,
But others, so transgressing, oft forbad.
Yet they abstain’d not, and a dreadful fate
Due to their wickedness have, therefore, found.
But I, their soothsayer alone, must fall,
Though unoffending; such is the return 370
By mortals made for benefits received!
To whom Ulysses, louring dark, replied.
Is that thy boast? Hast thou indeed for these
The seer’s high office fill’d? Then, doubtless, oft
Thy pray’r hath been that distant far might prove
The day delectable of my return,
And that my consort might thy own become
To bear thee children; wherefore thee I doom
To a dire death which thou shalt not avoid.
So saying, he caught the faulchion from the floor 380
Which Agelaüs had let fall, and smote
Leiodes, while he kneel’d, athwart his neck
So suddenly, that ere his tongue had ceased
To plead for life, his head was in the dust.
But Phemius, son of Terpius, bard divine,
Who, through compulsion, with his song regaled
The suitors, a like dreadful death escaped.
Fast by the postern, harp in hand, he stood,
Doubtful if, issuing, he should take his seat
Beside the altar of Hercæan Jove, 390
Where oft Ulysses offer’d, and his sire,
Fat thighs of beeves, or whether he should haste,
An earnest suppliant, to embrace his knees.
That course, at length, most pleased him; then, between
The beaker and an argent-studded throne
He grounded his sweet lyre, and seizing fast
The Hero’s knees, him, suppliant, thus address’d.
I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect
My suit, and spare me. Thou shalt not escape
Regret thyself hereafter, if thou slay 400
Me, charmer of the woes of Gods and men.
Self-taught am I, and treasure in my mind
Themes of all argument from heav’n inspired,
And I can sing to thee as to a God.
Ah, then, behead me not. Put ev’n the wish
Far from thee! for thy own beloved son
Can witness, that not drawn by choice, or driv’n
By stress of want, resorting to thine house
I have regaled these revellers so oft,
But under force of mightier far than I. 410
So he; whose words soon as the sacred might
Heard of Telemachus, approaching quick
His father, thus, humane, he interposed.
Hold, harm not with the vengeful faulchion’s edge
This blameless man; and we will also spare
Medon the herald, who hath ever been
A watchful guardian of my boyish years,
Unless Philœtius have already slain him,
Or else Eumæus, or thyself, perchance,
Unconscious, in the tumult of our foes. 420
He spake, whom Medon hearing (for he lay
Beneath a throne, and in a new-stript hide
Enfolded, trembling with the dread of death)
Sprang from his hiding-place, and casting off
The skin, flew to Telemachus, embraced
His knees, and in wing’d accents thus exclaim’d.
Prince! I am here — oh, pity me! repress
Thine own, and pacify thy father’s wrath,
That he destroy not me, through fierce revenge
Of their iniquities who have consumed 430
His wealth, and, in their folly scorn’d his son.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied,
Smiling complacent. Fear not; my own son
Hath pleaded for thee. Therefore (taught thyself
That truth) teach others the superior worth
Of benefits with injuries compared.
But go ye forth, thou and the sacred bard,
That ye may sit distant in yonder court
From all this carnage, while I give command,
Myself, concerning it, to those within. 440
He ceas’d; they going forth, took each his seat
Beside Jove’s altar, but with careful looks
Suspicious, dreading without cease the sword.
Meantime Ulysses search’d his hall, in quest
Of living foes, if any still survived
Unpunish’d; but he found them all alike
Welt’ring in dust and blood; num’rous they lay
Like fishes when they strew the sinuous shore
Of Ocean, from the grey gulph drawn aground
In nets of many a mesh; they on the sands 450
Lie spread, athirst for the salt wave, till hot
The gazing sun dries all their life away;
So lay the suitors heap’d, and thus at length
The prudent Chief gave order to his son.
Telemachus! bid Euryclea come
Quickly, the nurse, to whom I would impart
The purpose which now occupies me most.
He said; obedient to his sire, the Prince
Smote on the door, and summon’d loud the nurse.
Arise thou ancient governess of all 460
Our female menials, and come forth; attend
My father; he hath somewhat for thine ear.
So he; nor flew his words useless away,
For, throwing wide the portal, forth she came,
And, by Telemachus conducted, found
Ere long Ulysses amid all the slain,
With blood defiled and dust; dread he appear’d
As from the pastur’d ox newly-devoured
The lion stalking back; his ample chest
With gory drops and his broad cheeks are hung, 470
Tremendous spectacle! such seem’d the Chief,
Blood-stain’d all over. She, the carnage spread
On all sides seeing, and the pools of blood,
Felt impulse forcible to publish loud
That wond’rous triumph; but her Lord repress’d
The shout of rapture ere it burst abroad,
And in wing’d accents thus his will enforced.
Silent exult, O ancient matron dear!
Shout not, be still. Unholy is the voice
Of loud thanksgiving over slaughter’d men. 480
Their own atrocious deeds and the Gods’ will
Have slain all these; for whether noble guest
Arrived or base, they scoff’d at all alike,
And for their wickedness have, therefore, died.
But say; of my domestic women, who
Have scorn’d me, and whom find’st thou innocent?
To whom good Euryclea thus replied.
My son! I will declare the truth; thou keep’st
Female domestics fifty in thy house,
Whom we have made intelligent to comb 490
The fleece, and to perform whatever task.
Of these, twice six have overpass’d the bounds
Of modesty, respecting neither me,
Nor yet the Queen; and thy own son, adult
So lately, no permission had from her
To regulate the women of her train.
But I am gone, I fly with what hath pass’d
&nbs
p; To the Queen’s ear, who nought suspects, so sound
She sleeps, by some divinity composed.
Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise returned. 500
Hush, and disturb her not. Go. Summon first
Those wantons, who have long deserved to die.
He ceas’d; then issued forth the ancient dame
To summon those bad women, and, meantime,
Calling his son, Philœtius, and Eumæus,
Ulysses in wing’d accents thus began.
Bestir ye, and remove the dead; command
Those women also to your help; then cleanse
With bibulous sponges and with water all
The seats and tables; when ye shall have thus 510
Set all in order, lead those women forth,
And in the centre of the spacious court,
Between the scull’ry and the outer-wall
Smite them with your broad faulchions till they lose
In death the mem’ry of their secret loves
Indulged with wretches lawless as themselves.
He ended, and the damsels came at once
All forth, lamenting, and with tepid tears
Show’ring the ground; with mutual labour, first,
Bearing the bodies forth into the court, 520
They lodged them in the portico; meantime
Ulysses, stern, enjoin’d them haste, and, urged
By sad necessity, they bore all out.
With sponges and with water, next, they cleansed
The thrones and tables, while Telemachus
Beesom’d the floor, Eumæus in that work
Aiding him and the keeper of the beeves,
And those twelve damsels bearing forth the soil.
Thus, order giv’n to all within, they, next,
Led forth the women, whom they shut between 530
The scull’ry and the outer-wall in close
Durance, from which no pris’ner could escape,
And thus Telemachus discrete began.
An honourable death is not for these
By my advice, who have so often heap’d
Reproach on mine and on my mother’s head,
And held lewd commerce with the suitor-train.
He said, and noosing a strong galley-rope
To an huge column, led the cord around
The spacious dome, suspended so aloft 540
That none with quiv’ring feet might reach the floor.
As when a flight of doves ent’ring the copse,
Or broad-wing’d thrushes, strike against the net
Within, ill rest, entangled, there they find,
So they, suspended by the neck, expired
All in one line together. Death abhorr’d!
With restless feet awhile they beat the air,
Then ceas’d. And now through vestibule and hall
They led Melanthius forth. With ruthless steel
They pared away his ears and nose, pluck’d forth 550
His parts of shame, destin’d to feed the dogs,
And, still indignant, lopp’d his hands and feet.
Then, laving each his feet and hands, they sought
Again Ulysses; all their work was done,
And thus the Chief to Euryclea spake.
Bring blast-averting sulphur, nurse, bring fire!
That I may fumigate my walls; then bid
Penelope with her attendants down,
And summon all the women of her train.
But Euryclea, thus, his nurse, replied. 560
My son! thou hast well said; yet will I first
Serve thee with vest and mantle. Stand not here
In thy own palace cloath’d with tatters foul
And beggarly — she will abhor the sight.
Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.
Not so. Bring fire for fumigation first.
He said; nor Euryclea his lov’d nurse
Longer delay’d, but sulphur brought and fire,
When he with purifying steams, himself,
Visited ev’ry part, the banquet-room, 570
The vestibule, the court. Ranging meantime
His house magnificent, the matron call’d
The women to attend their Lord in haste,
And they attended, bearing each a torch.
Then gather’d they around him all, sincere
Welcoming his return; with close embrace
Enfolding him, each kiss’d his brows, and each
His shoulders, and his hands lock’d fast in hers.
He, irresistible the impulse felt
To sigh and weep, well recognizing all. 580
BOOK XXIII
ARGUMENT
Ulysses with some difficulty, convinces Penelope of his identity, who at
length, overcome by force of evidence, receives him to her arms with
transport. He entertains her with a recital of his adventures, and in his
narration the principal events of the poem are recapitulated. In the
morning, Ulysses, Telemachus, the herdsman and the swine-herd depart into
the country.
And now, with exultation loud the nurse
Again ascended, eager to apprize
The Queen of her Ulysses’ safe return;
Joy braced her knees, with nimbleness of youth
She stepp’d, and at her ear, her thus bespake.
Arise, Penelope! dear daughter, see
With thy own eyes thy daily wish fulfill’d.
Ulysses is arrived; hath reach’d at last
His native home, and all those suitors proud
Hath slaughter’d, who his family distress’d, 10
His substance wasted, and controul’d his son.
To whom Penelope discrete replied.
Dear nurse! the Gods have surely ta’en away
Thy judgment; they transform the wise to fools,
And fools conduct to wisdom, and have marr’d
Thy intellect, who wast discrete before.
Why wilt thou mock me, wretched as I am,
With tales extravagant? and why disturb
Those slumbers sweet that seal’d so fast mine eyes?
For such sweet slumbers have I never known 20
Since my Ulysses on his voyage sail’d
To that bad city never to be named.
Down instant to thy place again — begone —
For had another of my maidens dared
Disturb my sleep with tidings wild as these,
I had dismiss’d her down into the house
More roughly; but thine age excuses thee.
To whom the venerable matron thus.
I mock thee not, my child; no — he is come —
Himself, Ulysses, even as I say, 30
That stranger, object of the scorn of all.
Telemachus well knew his sire arrived,
But prudently conceal’d the tidings, so
To insure the more the suitors’ punishment.
So Euryclea she transported heard,
And springing from the bed, wrapp’d in her arms
The ancient woman shedding tears of joy,
And in wing’d accents ardent thus replied.
Ah then, dear nurse inform me! tell me true!
Hath he indeed arriv’d as thou declar’st? 40
How dared he to assail alone that band
Of shameless ones, for ever swarming here?
Then Euryclea, thus, matron belov’d.
I nothing saw or knew; but only heard
Groans of the wounded; in th’ interior house
We trembling sat, and ev’ry door was fast.
Thus all remain’d till by his father sent,
Thy own son call’d me forth. Going, I found
Ulysses compass’d by the slaughter’d dead.
They cover’d wide the pavement, heaps on heaps. 50
It would have cheer’d thy heart to have beheld
Thy husband lion-like w
ith crimson stains
Of slaughter and of dust all dappled o’er;
Heap’d in the portal, at this moment, lie
Their bodies, and he fumigates, meantime,
The house with sulphur and with flames of fire,
And hath, himself, sent me to bid thee down.
Follow me, then, that ye may give your hearts
To gladness, both, for ye have much endured;
But the event, so long your soul’s desire, 60
Is come; himself hath to his household Gods
Alive return’d, thee and his son he finds
Unharm’d and at your home, nor hath he left
Unpunish’d one of all his enemies.
Her answer’d, then, Penelope discrete.
Ah dearest nurse! indulge not to excess
This dang’rous triumph. Thou art well apprized
How welcome his appearance here would prove
To all, but chief, to me, and to his son,
Fruit of our love. But these things are not so; 70
Some God, resentful of their evil deeds,
And of their biting contumely severe,
Hath slain those proud; for whether noble guest
Arrived or base, alike they scoff’d at all,
And for their wickedness have therefore died.
But my Ulysses distant far, I know,
From Greece hath perish’d, and returns no more.
To whom thus Euryclea, nurse belov’d.
What word my daughter had escaped thy lips,
Who thus affirm’st thy husband, now within 80
And at his own hearth-side, for ever lost?
Canst thou be thus incredulous? Hear again —
I give thee yet proof past dispute, his scar
Imprinted by a wild-boar’s iv’ry tusk.
Laving him I remark’d it, and desired,
Myself, to tell thee, but he, ever-wise,
Compressing with both hands my lips, forbad.
Come, follow me. My life shall be the pledge.
If I deceive thee, kill me as thou wilt.
To whom Penelope, discrete, replied. 90
Ah, dearest nurse, sagacious as thou art,
Thou little know’st to scan the counsels wise
Of the eternal Gods. But let us seek
My son, however, that I may behold
The suitors dead, and him by whom they died.
So saying, she left her chamber, musing much
In her descent, whether to interrogate
Her Lord apart, or whether to imprint,
At once, his hands with kisses and his brows.
O’erpassing light the portal-step of stone 100
She enter’d. He sat opposite, illumed
By the hearth’s sprightly blaze, and close before
A pillar of the dome, waiting with eyes
Downcast, till viewing him, his noble spouse
William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works Page 185
