The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (104 page)

My country earth recover. ’Tis the will

The prey-professor Pallas puts in act,

Who put me thus together, thus distract

In aged pieces as ev’n now you saw,

This youth now rend’ring. ’Tis within the law

Of her free pow’r. Sometimes to show me poor,

Sometimes again thus amply to restore

My youth and ornaments, she still would please.

The gods can raise, and throw men down, with ease.’

This said, he sat; when his Telemachus pour’d

Himself about him; tears on tears he shower’d,

And to desire of moan increas’d the cloud.

Both wept and howl’d, and laid out shrieks more loud

Than or the bird-bone-breaking eagle rears,

Or brood-kind vulture with the crooked seres,

When rustic hands their tender eyries draw,

Before they give their wings their full-plum’d law.

But miserably pour’d they from beneath

Their lids their tears, while both their breasts did breathe

As frequent cries; and, to their fervent moan,

The light had left the skies, if first the son

Their dumb moans had not vented, with demand

What ship it was that gave the natural land

To his bless’d feet? He then did likewise lay

Hand on his passion, and gave these words way:

‘I’ll tell thee truth, my son: the men that bear

Much fame for shipping, my reducers were

To long-wish’d Ithaca, who each man else

That greets their shore give pass to where he dwells.

The Phaeacensian peers, in one night’s date,

While I fast slept, fetch’d th’ Ithacensian state,

Grac’d me with wealthy gifts, brass, store of gold,

And robes fair wrought; all which have secret hold

In caves that by the god’s advice I chus’d.

And now Minerva’s admonitions us’d

For this retreat, that we might here dispose

In close discourse the slaughters of our foes.

Recount the number of the wooers then,

And let me know what name they hold with men,

That my mind may cast over their estates

A curious measure, and confer the rates

Of our two pow’rs and theirs, to try if we

Alone may propagate to victory

Our bold encounters of them all, or prove

The kind assistance of some others’ love.’

‘O father,’ he replied, ‘I oft have heard

Your counsels and your force of hand preferr’d

To mighty glory, but your speeches now

Your vent’rous mind exceeding mighty show.

Ev’n to amaze they move me; for, in right

Of no fit counsel, should be brought to fight

Two men ’gainst th’ able faction of a throng.

No one two, no one ten, no twice ten, strong

These wooers are, but more by much. For know,

That from Dulichius there are fifty two,

All choice young men; and every one of these

Six men attend. From Samos cross’d the seas

Twice twelve young gallants. From Zacynthus came

Twice ten. Of Ithaca, the best of name,

Twice six. Of all which all the state they take

A sacred poet and a herald make.

Their delicacies two, of special sort

In skill of banquets, serve. And all this port

If we shall dare t’ encounter, all thrust up

In one strong roof, have great care lest the cup

Your great mind thirsts exceeding bitter taste,

And your retreat commend not to your haste

Your great attempt, but make you say, you buy

Their pride’s revenges at a price too high.

And therefore, if you could, ’twere well you thought

Of some assistant. Be your spirit wrought

In such a man’s election, as may lend

His succours freely, and express a friend.’

His father answer’d: ‘Let me ask of thee;

Hear me, consider, and then answer me:

Think’st thou, if Pallas and the king of skies

We had to friend, would their sufficiencies

Make strong our part? Or that some other yet

My thoughts must work for?’ ‘These,’ said he, ‘are set

Aloft the clouds, and are found aids indeed,

As pow’rs not only that these men exceed,

But bear of all men else the high command,

And hold of gods an overruling hand.’

‘Well then,’ said he, ‘not these shall sever long

Their force and ours in fights assur’d and strong.

And then ’twixt us and them shall Mars prefer

His strength, to stand our great distinguisher,

When in mine own roofs I am forced to blows.

But when the day shall first her fires disclose,

Go thou for home, and troop up with the woo’rs,

Thy will with theirs join’d, pow’r with their rude pow’rs;

And after shall the herdsman guide to town

My steps, my person wholly overgrown

With all appearance of a poor old swain,

Heavy, and wretched. If their high disdain

Of my vile presence make them my desert

Affect with contumelies, let thy lov’d heart

Beat in fix’d confines of thy bosom still,

And see me suffer, patient of their ill.

Ay, though they drag me by the heels about

Mine own free earth, and after hurl me out,

Do thou still suffer. Nay, though with their darts

They beat and bruise me, bear. But these foul parts

Persuade them to forbear, and by their names

Call all with kind words, bidding, for their shames,

Their pleasures cease. If yet they yield not way,

There breaks the first light of their fatal day.

In mean space, mark this: when the chiefly wise

Minerva prompts me, I’ll inform thine eyes

With some giv’n sign, and then all th’ arms that are

Aloft thy roof in some near room prepare

For speediest use. If those brave men inquire

Thy end in all, still rake up all thy fire

In fair cool words, and say: ‘I bring them down

To scour the smoke off, being so overgrown

That one would think all fumes that ever were

Breath’d since Ulysses’ loss, reflected here.

These are not like the arms he left behind,

In way for Troy. Besides, Jove prompts my mind

In their remove apart thus with this thought,

That if in height of wine there should be wrought

Some harsh contention ’twixt you, this apt mean

To mutual bloodshed may be taken clean

From out your reach, and all the spoil prevented

Of present feast, perhaps ev’n then presented

My mother’s nuptials to your long kind vows.

Steel itself, ready, draws a man to blows.’

Thus make their thoughts secure; to us alone

Two swords, two darts, two shields left; which see done

Within our readiest reach, that at our will

We may resume, and charge, and all their skill

Pallas and Jove, that all just counsels breathe,

May darken with secureness to their death.

And let me charge thee now, as thou art mine,

And as thy veins mine own true blood combine:

Let, after this, none know Ulysses near,

Not any one of all the household there,

Not here the herdsman, not Laertes be

Made privy, nor herself Penelope,

But only let thyself and me work out

The women’s thoughts of all things borne about

The wooers’ hearts; and then thy men approve,

To know who honours, who with rev’rence love,

Our well-weigh’d memories, and who is won

To fail thy fit right, though my only son.’

‘You teach,’ said he, ‘so punctually now

As I knew nothing, nor were sprung from you.

I hope, hereafter, you shall better know

What soul I bear, and that it doth not let

The least loose motion pass his natural seat.

But this course you propose will prove, I fear,

Small profit to us; and could wish your care

Would weigh it better, as too far about.

For time will ask much, to the sifting out

Of each man’s disposition by his deeds;

And, in the mean time, every wooer feeds

Beyond satiety, nor knows how to spare.

The women yet, since they more easy are

For our inquiry, I would wish you try,

Who right your state, who do it injury.

The men I would omit, and these things make

Your labour after. But, to undertake

The wooers’ war, I wish your utmost speed,

Especially if you could cheer the deed

With some ostent from Jove.’ Thus, as the sire

Consented to the son, did here expire

Their mutual speech. And now the ship was come,

That brought the young prince and his soldiers home.

The deep hav’n reach’d, they drew the ship ashore,

Took all their arms out, and the rich gifts bore

To Clitius’ house. But to Ulysses’ court

They sent a herald first, to make report

To wise Penelope, that safe at field

Her son was left; yet, since the ship would yield

Most haste to her, he sent that first, and them

To comfort with his utmost the extreme

He knew she suffer’d. At the court now met

The herald and the herdsman, to repeat

One message to the queen. Both whom arriv’d

Within the gates, both to be foremost striv’d

In that good news. The herald, he for haste

Amongst the maids bestow’d it, thinking plac’d

The queen amongst them. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘O queen,

Your lov’d son is arriv’d.’ And then was seen

The queen herself, to whom the herdsman told

All that Telemachus enjoin’d he should;

All which discharg’d, his steps he back bestows,

And left both court and city for his sows.

The wooers then grew sad, soul-vex’d, and all

Made forth the court; when by the mighty wall

They took their several seat, before the gates.

To whom Eurymachus initiates

Their utter’d grievance: ‘O,’ said he, ‘my friends,

A work right great begun, as proudly ends.

We said Telemachus should never make

His voyage good, nor this shore ever take

For his return’s receipt; and yet we fail,

And he performs it. Come, let’s man a sail,

The best in our election, and bestow

Such soldiers in her as can swiftest row,

To tell our friends that way-lay his retreat

’Tis safe perform’d, and make them quickly get

Their ship for Ithaca.’ This was not said

Before Amphinomus in port display’d

The ship arriv’d, her sails then under-stroke,

And oars resum’d; when, laughing, thus he spoke:

‘Move for no messenger. These men are come.

Some god hath either told his turning home,

Or they themselves have seen his ship gone by,

Had her in chase, and lost her.’ Instantly

They rose, and went to port; found drawn to land

The ship, the soldiers taking arms in hand.

The wooers themselves to council went in throng,

And not a man besides, or old or young,

Let sit amongst them. Then Eupitheus’ son,

Antinous, said: ‘See what the gods have done!

They only have deliver’d from our ill

The men we waylaid. Every windy hill

Hath been their watch-tower, where by turns they stood

Continual sentinel. And we made good

Our work as well, for, sun once set, we never

Slept wink ashore all night, but made sail ever,

This way and that, ev’n till the morning kept

Her sacred station, so to intercept

And take his life, for whom our ambush lay;

And yet hath god to his return giv’n way.

But let us prosecute with counsels here

His necessary death, nor any where

Let rest his safety; for if he survive,

Our sails will never in wish’d hav’ns arrive,

Since he is wise, hath soul and counsel too,

To work the people, who will never do

Our faction favour. What we then intend

Against his person, give we present end,

Before he call a council, which, believe,

His spirit will haste, and point where it doth grieve,

Stand up amongst them all, and urge his death

Decreed amongst us. Which complaint will breathe

A fire about their spleens, and blow no praise

On our ill labours. Lest they therefore raise

Pow’r to exile us from our native earth,

And force our lives’ societies to the birth

Of foreign countries, let our speeds prevent

His coming home to this austere complaint,

At field and far from town, or in some way

Of narrow passage, with his latest day

Shown to his forward youth, his goods and lands

Left to the free division of our hands,

The moveables made all his mother’s dow’r,

And his, whoever fate affords the pow’r

To celebrate with her sweet Hymen’s rites.

Or if this please not, but your appetites

Stand to his safety, and to give him seat

In his whole birthright, let us look to eat

At his cost never more, but every man

Haste to his home, and wed with whom he can

At home, and there lay first about for dow’r,

And then the woman give his second pow’r

Of nuptial liking, and, for last, apply

His purpose with most gifts and destiny.’

This silence caus’d; whose breach, at last, begun

Amphinomus, the much renowned son

Of Nisus surnam’d Aretiades,

Who from Dulichius full of flow’ry leas

Led all the wooers, and in chief did please

The queen with his discourse, because it grew

From roots of those good minds that did endue

His goodly person; who, exceeding wise,

Us’d this speech: ‘Friends, I never will advise

The prince’s death; for ’tis a damned thing

To put to death the issue of a king.

First, therefore, let’s examine, what applause

The gods will give it: if the equal laws