  Telemachus having convened an assembly of the Greecians, publicly calls on the Suitors to relinquish the house of Ulysses. During the continuance of the Council he has much to suffer from the petulance of the Suitors, from whom, having informed them of his design to undertake a voyage in hope to obtain news of Ulysses, he asks a ship, with all things necessary for the purpose. He is refused, but is afterwards furnished with what he wants by Minerva, in the form of Mentor. He embarks in the evening without the privity of his mother, and the Goddess sails with him. Aurora, rosy daughter of the dawn, Now ting’d the East, when habited again, Uprose Ulysses’ offspring from his bed. Athwart his back his faulchion keen he flung, His sandals bound to his unsullied feet, And, godlike, issued from his chamber-door. At once the clear-voic’d heralds he enjoin’d To call the Greeks to council; they aloud Gave forth the summons, and the throng began. When all were gather’d, and the assembly full, Himself, his hand arm’d with a brazen spear, Went also; nor alone he went; his hounds Fleet-footed follow’d him, a faithful pair. O’er all his form Minerva largely shed Majestic grace divine, and, as he went, The whole admiring concourse gaz’d on him, The seniors gave him place, and down he sat On his paternal Throne. Then grave arose The Hero, old Ægyptius; bow’d with age Was he, and by experience deep-inform’d. His son had with Ulysses, godlike Chief, On board his fleet to steed-fam’d Ilium gone, The warrior Antiphus, whom in his cave The savage Cyclops slew, and on his flesh At ev’ning made obscene his last regale. Three sons he had beside, a suitor one, Eurynomus; the other two, employ Yet he forgat not, father as he was Of these, his absent eldest, whom he mourn’d Ceaseless, and thus his speech, weeping, began. Hear me, ye men of Ithaca, my friends! Nor council here nor session hath been held Since great Ulysses left his native shore. Who now convenes us? what especial need Hath urged him, whether of our youth he be, Or of our senators by age matured? Have tidings reach’d him of our host’s return, Which here he would divulge? or brings he aught Of public import on a diff’rent theme? I deem him, whosoe’er he be, a man Worthy to prosper, and may Jove vouchsafe The full performance of his chief desire! He ended, and Telemachus rejoiced In that good omen. Ardent to begin, He sat not long, but, moving to the midst, Received the sceptre from Pisenor’s hand, His prudent herald, and addressing, next, The hoary Chief Ægyptius, thus began. Not far remote, as thou shalt soon thyself Perceive, oh venerable Chief! he stands, Who hath convened this council. I, am He. I am in chief the suff’rer. Tidings none Of the returning host I have received, Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aught Of public import on a different theme, But my own trouble, on my own house fall’n, And two-fold fall’n. One is, that I have lost A noble father, who, as fathers rule Benign their children, govern’d once yourselves; The other, and the more alarming ill, With ruin threatens my whole house, and all My patrimony with immediate waste. Suitors, (their children who in this our isle Hold highest rank) importunate besiege My mother, though desirous not to wed, And rather than resort to her own Sire Icarius, who might give his daughter dow’r, And portion her to whom he most approves, (A course which, only named, moves their disgust) Daily to make my beeves, my sheep, my goats Their banquet, and to drink without restraint My wine; whence ruin threatens us and ours; For I have no Ulysses to relieve Me and my family from this abuse. Ourselves are not sufficient; we, alas! Too feeble should be found, and yet to learn How best to use the little force we own; Else, had I pow’r, I would, myself, redress The evil; for it now surpasses far All suff’rance, now they ravage uncontroul’d, Nor show of decency vouchsafe me more. Oh be ashamed Of such reproach as ye shall sure incur From all our neighbour states, and fear beside The wrath of the Immortals, lest they call Yourselves one day to a severe account. I pray you by Olympian Jove, by her Whose voice convenes all councils, and again Dissolves them, Themis, that henceforth ye cease, That ye permit me, oh my friends! to wear My days in solitary grief away, Unless Ulysses, my illustrious Sire, Hath in his anger any Greecian wrong’d, Whose wrongs ye purpose to avenge on me, Inciting these to plague me. Better far Were my condition, if yourselves consumed My substance and my revenue; from you I might obtain, perchance, righteous amends Hereafter; you I might with vehement suit O’ercome, from house to house pleading aloud For recompense, till I at last prevail’d. But now, with darts of anguish ye transfix My inmost soul, and I have no redress. He spake impassion’d, and to earth cast down His sceptre, weeping. Pity at that sight Seiz’d all the people; mute the assembly sat Long time, none dared to greet Telemachus With answer rough, till of them all, at last, Telemachus, intemp’rate in harangue, High-sounding orator! it is thy drift To make us all odious; but the offence Lies not with us the suitors; she alone Thy mother, who in subtlety excels, And deep-wrought subterfuge, deserves the blame. It is already the third year, and soon Shall be the fourth, since with delusive art Practising on their minds, she hath deceived The Greecians; message after message sent Brings hope to each, by turns, and promise fair, But she, meantime, far otherwise intends. Her other arts exhausted all, she framed This stratagem; a web of amplest size And subtlest woof beginning, thus she spake. Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief Ulysses is no more, press not as yet My nuptials, wait till I shall finish, first, A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads decay) Which for the antient Hero I prepare, Laertes, looking for the mournful hour 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. So spake the Queen, and unsuspicious, we With her request complied. Thenceforth, all day She wove the ample web, and by the aid Of torches ravell’d it again at night. Three years by such contrivance she deceived The Greecians; but when (three whole years elaps’d) The fourth arriv’d, then, conscious of the fraud, A damsel of her train told all the truth, And her we found rav’ling the beauteous work. Thus, through necessity she hath, at length, Perform’d the task, and in her own despight. Now therefore, for the information clear Of thee thyself, and of the other Greeks, We answer. Send thy mother hence, with charge That him she wed on whom her father’s choice Shall fall, and whom she shall, herself, approve. But if by long procrastination still She persevere wearing our patience out, By Pallas so profusely dealt to her, Works of surpassing skill, ingenious thought, And subtle shifts, such as no beauteous Greek (For aught that we have heard) in antient times E’er practised, Tyro, or Alcemena fair, Or fair Mycene, of whom none in art E’er match’d Penelope, although we yield To this her last invention little praise, Then know, that these her suitors will consume So long thy patrimony and thy goods, As she her present purpose shall indulge, With which the Gods inspire her. Great renown She to herself insures, but equal woe And devastation of thy wealth to thee; For neither to our proper works at home Go we, of that be sure, nor yet elsewhere, Till him she wed, to whom she most inclines. Him prudent, then, answer’d Telemachus. AntinoÜs! it is not possible That I should thrust her forth against her will, Who both produced and reared me. Be he dead, Or still alive, my Sire is far remote, And should I, voluntary, hence dismiss My mother to Icarius, I must much Refund, which hardship were and loss to me. So doing, I should also wrath incur From my offended Sire, and from the Gods Still more; for she, departing, would invoke Erynnis to avenge her, and reproach Beside would follow me from all mankind. That word I, therefore, never will pronounce. No, if ye judge your treatment at her hands Injurious to you, go ye forth yourselves, Forsake my mansion; seek where else ye may Your feasts; consume your own; alternate feed Each at the other’s cost. But if it seem Wisest in your account and best to eat Voracious thus the patrimonial goods Of one man, rend’ring no account of all, Bite to the roots; but know that I will cry Ceaseless to the eternal Gods, in hope That Jove, in retribution of the wrong, To bleed, and of your blood ask no account. So spake Telemachus, and while he spake, The Thund’rer from a lofty mountain-top Turn’d off two eagles; on the winds, awhile, With outspread pinions ample side by side They floated; but, ere long, hov’ring aloft, Right o’er the midst of the assembled Chiefs They wheel’d around, clang’d all their num’rous plumes, And with a downward look eyeing the throng, Death boded, ominous; then rending each The other’s face and neck, they sprang at once Toward the right, and darted through the town. Amazement universal, at that sight, Seized the assembly, and with anxious thought Each scann’d the future; amidst whom arose The Hero Halitherses, antient Seer, Offspring of Mastor; for in judgment he Of portents augural, and in forecast Unerring, his coevals all excell’d, And prudent thus the multitude bespake. Ye men of Ithaca, give ear! hear all! Though chief my speech shall to the suitors look, For, on their heads devolved, comes down the woe. Ulysses shall not from his friends, henceforth, Live absent long, but, hasting to his home, Comes even now, and as he comes, designs A bloody death for these, whose bitter woes No few shall share, inhabitants with us Of pleasant Ithaca; but let us frame Effectual means maturely to suppress Their violent deeds, or rather let themselves Repentant cease; and soonest shall be best. Not inexpert, but well-inform’d I speak The future, and the accomplishment announce Of all which when Ulysses with the Greeks Embark’d for Troy, I to himself foretold. I said that, after many woes, and loss Of all his people, in the twentieth year, Unknown to all, he should regain his home, And my prediction shall be now fulfill’d. Him, then, Eurymachus thus answer’d rough The son of Polybus. Hence to thy house, Thy children to escape woes else to come. Birds num’rous flutter in the beams of day, Not all predictive. Death, far hence remote Hath found Ulysses, and I would to heav’n That, where he died, thyself had perish’d too. Thou hadst not then run o’er with prophecy As now, nor provocation to the wrath Giv’n of Telemachus, in hope to win, Perchance, for thine some favour at his hands. But I to thee foretell, skilled as thou art In legends old, (nor shall my threat be vain) That if by artifice thou move to wrath A younger than thyself, no matter whom, Woe first the heavier on himself shall fall, Nor shalt thou profit him by thy attempt, And we will charge thee also with a mulct, Which thou shalt pay with difficulty, and bear The burthen of it with an aching heart. As for Telemachus, I him advise, Myself, and press the measure on his choice Earnestly, that he send his mother hence To her own father’s house, who shall, himself, Set forth her nuptial rites, and shall endow His daughter sumptuously, and as he ought. For this expensive wooing, as I judge, Till then shall never cease; since we regard No man—no—not Telemachus, although In words exub’rant; neither fear we aught Thy vain prognostics, venerable sir! But only hate thee for their sake the more. Waste will continue and disorder foul Unremedied, so long as she shall hold The suitors in suspense, for, day by day, Our emulation goads us to the strife, Nor shall we, going hence, seek to espouse Each his own comfort suitable elsewhere. To whom, discrete, Telemachus replied. Eurymachus, and ye the suitor train Illustrious, I have spoken: ye shall hear No more this supplication urged by me. The Gods, and all the Greeks, now know the truth. But give me instantly a gallant bark To whatsoever haven; for I go To sandy Pylus, and shall hasten thence To Lacedemon, tidings to obtain Of my long-absent Sire, or from the lips Of man, or by a word from Jove vouchsafed Himself, best source of notice to mankind. If, there inform’d that still my father lives, I hope conceive of his return, although Distress’d, I shall be patient yet a year. But should I learn, haply, that he survives No longer, then, returning, I will raise At home his tomb, will with such pomp perform His fun’ral rites, as his great name demands, And give my mother’s hand to whom I may. This said, he sat, and after him arose Mentor, illustrious Ulysses’ friend, To whom, embarking thence, he had consign’d All his concerns, that the old Chief might rule His family, and keep the whole secure. Arising, thus the senior, sage, began. Hear me, ye Ithacans! be never King Henceforth, benevolent, gracious, humane Or righteous, but let every sceptred hand Rule merciless, and deal in wrong alone, Since none of all his people, whom he sway’d With such paternal gentleness and love, Remembers the divine Ulysses more! That the imperious suitors thus should weave The web of mischief and atrocious wrong, I grudge not; since at hazard of their heads They make Ulysses’ property a prey, Persuaded that the Hero comes no more. But much the people move me; how ye sit All mute, and though a multitude, yourselves, Opposed to few, risque not a single word To check the license of these bold intruders! Then thus Liocritus, Evenor’s son. Injurious Mentor! headlong orator! How dar’st thou move the populace against The suitors? Trust me they should find it hard, Numerous as they are, to cope with us, A feast the prize. Or should the King himself T’ expell the jovial suitors from his house, Much as Penelope his absence mourns, His presence should afford her little joy; For fighting sole with many, he should meet A dreadful death. Thou, therefore, speak’st amiss. As for Telemachus, let Mentor him And Halytherses furnish forth, the friends Long valued of his Sire, with all dispatch; Though him I judge far likelier to remain Long-time contented an enquirer here, Than to perform the voyage now proposed. Thus saying, Liocritus dissolved in haste The council, and the scattered concourse sought Their sev’ral homes, while all the suitors flock’d Thence to the palace of their absent King. Meantime, Telemachus from all resort Retiring, in the surf of the gray Deep First laved his hands, then, thus to Pallas pray’d. O Goddess! who wast yesterday a guest Beneath my roof, and didst enjoin me then A voyage o’er the sable Deep in quest Of tidings of my long regretted Sire! Which voyage, all in Ithaca, but most The haughty suitors, obstinate impede, Now hear my suit and gracious interpose! Such pray’r he made; then Pallas, in the form, And with the voice of Mentor, drawing nigh, In accents wing’d, him kindly thus bespake. Telemachus! thou shalt hereafter prove Nor base, nor poor in talents. If, in truth, Thou have received from heav’n thy father’s force Instill’d into thee, and resemblest him In promptness both of action and of speech, Thy voyage shall not useless be, or vain. But if Penelope produced thee not His son, I, then, hope not for good effect Of this design which, ardent, thou pursuest. Few sons their fathers equal; most appear Degenerate; but we find, though rare, sometimes A son superior even to his Sire. And since thyself shalt neither base be found Nor spiritless, nor altogether void I therefore hope success of thy attempt. Heed not the suitors’ projects; neither wise Are they, nor just, nor aught suspect the doom Which now approaches them, and in one day Shall overwhelm them all. No long suspense Shall hold thy purposed enterprise in doubt, Such help from me, of old thy father’s friend, Thou shalt receive, who with a bark well-oar’d Will serve thee, and myself attend thee forth. But haste, join thou the suitors, and provide, In sep’rate vessels stow’d, all needful stores, Wine in thy jars, and flour, the strength of man, In skins close-seam’d. I will, meantime, select Such as shall voluntary share thy toils. In sea-girt Ithaca new ships and old Abound, and I will chuse, myself, for thee The prime of all, which without more delay We will launch out into the spacious Deep. Thus Pallas spake, daughter of Jove; nor long, So greeted by the voice divine, remain’d Telemachus, but to his palace went Distress’d in heart. He found the suitors there Goats slaying in the hall, and fatted swine Roasting; when with a laugh AntinoÜs flew To meet him, fasten’d on his hand, and said, Telemachus, in eloquence sublime, And of a spirit not to be controul’d! Give harbour in thy breast on no account To after-grudge or enmity, but eat, Far rather, cheerfully as heretofore, And freely drink, committing all thy cares To the Achaians, who shall furnish forth A gallant ship and chosen crew for thee, That thou may’st hence to Pylus with all speed, Tidings to learn of thy illustrious Sire. To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied. AntinoÜs! I have no heart to feast< br/> With guests so insolent, nor can indulge The pleasures of a mind at ease, with you. Is’t not enough, suitors, that ye have used My noble patrimony as your own While I was yet a child? now, grown mature, Of my instructors, feeling, too, a mind Within me conscious of augmented pow’rs, I will attempt your ruin, be assured, Whether at Pylus, or continuing here. I go, indeed, (nor shall my voyage prove Of which I speak, bootless or vain) I go An humble passenger, who neither bark Nor rowers have to boast my own, denied That honour (so ye judg’d it best) by you. He said, and from AntinoÜs’ hand his own Drew sudden. Then their delicate repast The busy suitors on all sides prepar’d, Still taunting as they toil’d, and with sharp speech Sarcastic wantoning, of whom a youth, Arrogant as his fellows, thus began. I see it plain, Telemachus intends Our slaughter; either he will aids procure From sandy Pylus, or will bring them arm’d From Sparta; such is his tremendous drift. Even to fruitful Ephyre, perchance, He will proceed, seeking some baneful herb Which cast into our cup, shall drug us all. To whom some haughty suitor thus replied. Who knows but that himself, wand’ring the sea From all his friends and kindred far remote, May perish like Ulysses? Whence to us Should double toil ensue, on whom the charge To parcel out his wealth would then devolve, And to endow his mother with the house For his abode whom she should chance to wed. So sported they; but he, ascending sought His father’s lofty chamber, where his heaps He kept of brass and gold, garments in chests, And oils of fragrant scent, a copious store. There many a cask with season’d nectar fill’d The grape’s pure juice divine, beside the wall Stood orderly arranged, waiting the hour (Should e’er such hour arrive) when, after woes Num’rous, Ulysses should regain his home. Secure that chamber was with folding doors Of massy planks compact, and night and day, Within it antient Euryclea dwelt, Whom, thither call’d, Telemachus address’d. Nurse! draw me forth sweet wine into my jars, Delicious next to that which thou reserv’st For our poor wand’rer; if escaping death At last, divine Ulysses e’er return. Fill twelve, and stop them close; pour also meal Well mill’d (full twenty measures) into skins Close-seam’d, and mention what thou dost to none. Place them together; for at even-tide I will convey them hence, soon as the Queen, Retiring to her couch, shall seek repose. For hence to Sparta will I take my course, And sandy Pylus, tidings there to hear (If hear I may) of my lov’d Sire’s return. He ceas’d, then wept his gentle nurse that sound Hearing, and in wing’d accents thus replied. My child! ah, wherefore hath a thought so rash Possess’d thee? whither, only and belov’d, Seek’st thou to ramble, travelling, alas! To distant climes? Ulysses is no more; Dead lies the Hero in some land unknown, And thou no sooner shalt depart, than these Will plot to slay thee, and divide thy wealth. No, stay with us who love thee. Need is none That thou should’st on the barren Deep distress Encounter, roaming without hope or end. Whom, prudent, thus answer’d Telemachus. Take courage, nurse! for not without consent Of the Immortals I have thus resolv’d. But swear, that till eleven days be past, Or twelve, or, till enquiry made, she learn Herself my going, thou wilt not impart Of this my purpose to my mother’s ear, Lest all her beauties fade by grief impair’d. He ended, and the antient matron swore Solemnly by the Gods; which done, she fill’d With wine the vessels and the skins with meal, And he, returning, join’d the throng below. Then Pallas, Goddess azure-eyed, her thoughts Elsewhere directing, all the city ranged In semblance of Telemachus, each man Exhorting, at the dusk of eve, to seek Renown’d of Phronius, ask’d, herself, a bark, Which soon as ask’d, he promis’d to supply. Now set the sun, and twilight dimm’d the ways, When, drawing down his bark into the Deep, He gave her all her furniture, oars, arms And tackle, such as well-built galleys bear, Then moor’d her in the bottom of the bay. Meantime, his mariners in haste repair’d Down to the shore, for Pallas urged them on. And now on other purposes intent, The Goddess sought the palace, where with dews Of slumber drenching ev’ry suitor’s eye, She fool’d the drunkard multitude, and dash’d The goblets from their idle hands away. They through the city reeled, happy to leave The dull carousal, when the slumb’rous weight Oppressive on their eye-lids once had fall’n. Next, Pallas azure-eyed in Mentor’s form And with the voice of Mentor, summoning |
|
