  Telemachus, admonished by Minerva, takes leave of Menelaus, but ere he sails, is accosted by Theoclymenos, a prophet of Argos, whom at his earnest request he takes on board. In the meantime EumÆus relates to Ulysses the means by which he came to Ithaca. Telemachus arriving there, gives orders for the return of his bark to the city, and repairs himself to EumÆus. Meantime to LacedÆmon’s spacious vale Minerva went, that she might summon thence Ulysses’ glorious son to his own home. Arrived, she found Telemachus reposed And Nestor’s son beneath the vestibule Of Menelaus, mighty Chief; she saw Pisistratus in bands of gentle sleep Fast-bound, but not Telemachus; his mind No rest enjoy’d, by filial cares disturb’d Amid the silent night, when, drawing near To his couch side, the Goddess thus began. Thou canst no longer prudently remain A wand’rer here, Telemachus! thy home Abandon’d, and those haughty suitors left Within thy walls; fear lest, partition made Of thy possessions, they devour the whole, And in the end thy voyage bootless prove. Delay not; from brave Menelaus ask Dismission hence, that thou may’st find at home Thy spotless mother, whom her brethren urge And her own father even now to wed Eurymachus, in gifts and in amount Of proffer’d dow’r superior to them all. Some treasure, else, shall haply from thy house Be taken, such as thou wilt grudge to spare. For well thou know’st how woman is disposed; Her whole anxiety is to encrease His substance whom she weds; no care hath she Of her first children, or remembers more The buried husband of her virgin choice. Whom thou shalt most approve, the charge commit Of thy concerns domestic, till the Gods Themselves shall guide thee to a noble wife. Hear also this, and mark it. In the frith Samos the rude, and Ithaca between, The chief of all her suitors thy return In vigilant ambush wait, with strong desire To slay thee, ere thou reach thy native shore, But shall not, as I judge, till the earth hide Many a lewd reveller at thy expence. Yet, steer thy galley from those isles afar, And voyage make by night; some guardian God Shall save thee, and shall send thee prosp’rous gales. Then, soon as thou attain’st the nearest shore Of Ithaca, dispatching to the town Thy bark with all thy people, seek at once The swine-herd; for EumÆus is thy friend. There sleep, and send him forth into the town With tidings to Penelope, that safe Thou art restored from Pylus home again. She said, and sought th’ Olympian heights sublime. Then, with his heel shaking him, he awoke The son of Nestor, whom he thus address’d. Rise, Nestor’s son, Pisistratus! lead forth The steeds, and yoke them. We must now depart. To whom the son of Nestor thus replied. Telemachus! what haste soe’er we feel, We can by no means prudently attempt To drive by night, and soon it will be dawn. Stay, therefore, till the Hero, Atreus’ son, Spear-practis’d Menelaus shall his gifts Place in the chariot, and with kind farewell Dismiss thee; for the guest in mem’ry holds Through life, the host who treats him as a friend. Scarce had he spoken, when the golden dawn Appearing, Menelaus, from the side Of beauteous Helen ris’n, their bed approach’d, Whose coming when Telemachus perceived, Cloathing himself hastily in his vest Magnificent, and o’er his shoulders broad Casting his graceful mantle, at the door He met the Hero, whom he thus address’d. Dismiss me hence to Ithaca again, My native isle, for I desire to go. Him answer’d Menelaus famed in arms. Telemachus! I will not long delay Thy wish’d return. I disapprove alike The host whose assiduity extreme Distresses, and whose negligence offends; The middle course is best; alike we err, Him thrusting forth whose wish is to remain, And hind’ring the impatient to depart. This only is true kindness—To regale The present guest, and speed him when he would. Yet stay, till thou shalt see my splendid gifts Placed in thy chariot, and till I command My women from our present stores to spread The table with a plentiful repast. For both the honour of the guest demands, And his convenience also, that he eat Sufficient, ent’ring on a length of road. But if through Hellas thou wilt take thy way And traverse Argos, I will, then, myself Attend thee; thou shalt journey with my steeds Beneath thy yoke, and I will be thy guide To many a city, whence we shall not go Ungratified, but shall in each receive Some gift at least, tripod, or charger bright, Or golden chalice, or a pair of mules. To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied. Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown’d! I would at once depart, (for guardian none Of my possessions have I left behind) Lest, while I seek my father, I be lost Myself, or lose what I should grudge to spare. Which when the valiant Menelaus heard, He bade his spouse and maidens spread the board At once with remnants of the last regale. Then Eteoneus came, Boetheus’ son Newly aris’n, for nigh at hand he dwelt, Whom Menelaus bade kindle the fire By which to dress their food, and he obey’d. He next, himself his fragrant chamber sought, Not sole, but by his spouse and by his son Where all his treasures lay, Atrides, first, Took forth, himself, a goblet, then consign’d To his son’s hand an argent beaker bright. Meantime, beside her coffers Helen stood Where lay her variegated robes, fair works Of her own hand. Producing one, in size And in magnificence the chief, a star For splendour, and the lowest placed of all, Loveliest of her sex, she bore it thence. Then, all proceeding through the house, they sought Telemachus again, whom reaching, thus The Hero of the golden locks began. May Jove the Thunderer, dread Juno’s mate, Grant thee, Telemachus! such voyage home As thy own heart desires! accept from all My stores selected as the richest far And noblest gift for finish’d beauty—This. I give thee wrought elaborate a cup, Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold. It is the work of Vulcan, which to me The Hero PhÆdimus imparted, King Of the Sidonians, when, on my return, Beneath his roof I lodg’d. I make it thine. So saying, the Hero, Atreus’ son, the cup Placed in his hands, and Megapenthes set Before him, next, the argent beaker bright; But lovely Helen drawing nigh, the robe Presented to him, whom she thus address’d. I also give thee, oh my son, a gift, Which seeing, thou shalt think on her whose hands Wrought it; a present on thy nuptial day For thy fair spouse; meantime, repose it safe In thy own mother’s keeping. Now, farewell! Prosp’rous and happy be thy voyage home! She ceas’d, and gave it to him, who the gift Accepted glad, and in the chariot-chest Pisistratus the Hero all disposed, Admiring them the while. They, following, next, The Hero Menelaus to his hall Each on his couch or on his throne reposed. A maiden, then, with golden ewer charged And silver bowl, pour’d water on their hands, Various, selected from her present stores, The mistress of the household charge supplied. Boetheus’ son stood carver, and to each His portion gave, while Megapenthes, son Of glorious Menelaus, serv’d the cup. Then, all with outstretch’d hands the feast assail’d, And when nor hunger more nor thirst of wine They felt, Telemachus and Nestor’s son Yoked the swift steeds, and, taking each his seat In the resplendent chariot, drove at once Right through the sounding portico abroad. But Menelaus, Hero amber-hair’d, A golden cup bearing with richest wine Replete in his right hand, follow’d them forth, That not without libation first perform’d They might depart; he stood before the steeds, And drinking first, thus, courteous, them bespake. Health to you both, young friends! and from my lips Like greeting bear to Nestor, royal Chief, For he was ever as a father kind To me, while the Achaians warr’d at Troy. To whom Telemachus discrete replied. And doubtless, so we will; at our return We will report to him, illustrious Prince! Thy ev’ry word. And oh, I would to heav’n That reaching Ithaca, I might at home Ulysses hail as sure, as I shall hence Depart, with all benevolence by thee Treated, and rich in many a noble gift. While thus he spake, on his right hand appear’d An eagle; in his talons pounced he bore A white-plumed goose domestic, newly ta’en From the house-court. Ran females all and males Clamorous after him; but he the steeds Approaching on the right, sprang into air. That sight rejoicing and with hearts reviv’d They view’d, and thus Pisistratus his speech Amid them all to Menelaus turn’d. Now, Menelaus, think, illustrious Chief! If us, this omen, or thyself regard. While warlike Menelaus musing stood What answer fit to frame, Helen meantime, Hear me; for I will answer as the Gods Teach me, and as I think shall come to pass. As he, descending from his place of birth The mountains, caught our pamper’d goose away, So shall Ulysses, after many woes And wand’rings to his home restored, avenge His wrongs, or even now is at his home For all those suitors sowing seeds of woe. To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied. Oh grant it Jove, Juno’s high-thund’ring mate! So will I, there arrived, with vow and pray’r Thee worship, as thou wert, thyself, divine. He said, and lash’d the coursers; fiery they And fleet, sprang through the city to the plain. All day the yoke on either side they shook, Journeying swift; and now the setting sun To gloomy evening had resign’d the roads, When they to PherÆ came, and in the house Of good Diocles slept, their lib’ral host, Whose sire Orsilochus from Alpheus sprang. But when Aurora, daughter of the Dawn, Look’d rosy from the East, yoking their steeds, They in the sumptuous chariot sat again. Forth through the vestibule they drove, and through The sounding portico, when Nestor’s son Plied brisk the scourge, and willing flew the steeds. Thus whirl’d along, soon they approach’d the gates Of Pylus, when Telemachus, his speech Turning to his companion, thus began. How, son of Nestor! shall I win from thee Not promise only, but performance kind Of my request? we are not bound alone To friendship by the friendship of our sires, But by equality of years, and this Our journey shall unite us still the more. Bear me not, I intreat thee, noble friend! Beyond the ship, but drop me at her side, Lest ancient Nestor, though against my will, Detain me in his palace through desire To feast me, for I dread the least delay. He spake; then mused Pisistratus how best He might effect the wishes of his friend, With sudden deviation to the shore He sought the bark, and placing in the stern Both gold and raiment, the illustrious gifts Of Menelaus, thus, in accents wing’d With ardour, urged Telemachus away. Dispatch, embark, summon thy crew on board, Ere my arrival notice give of thine To the old King; for vehement I know His temper, neither will he let thee hence, But, hasting hither, will himself enforce Thy longer stay, that thou may’st not depart Ungifted; nought will fire his anger more. So saying, he to the Pylian city urged His steeds bright-maned, and at the palace-gate Arrived of Nestor speedily; meantime Telemachus exhorted thus his crew. My gallant friends! set all your tackle, climb The sable bark, for I would now return. He spake; they heard him gladly, and at once All fill’d the benches. While his voyage he Thus expedited, and beside the stern To Pallas sacrifice perform’d and pray’d, A stranger, born remote, who had escaped From Argos, fugitive for blood, a seer And of Melampus’ progeny, approach’d. Melampus, in old time, in Pylus dwelt, Mother of flocks, alike for wealth renown’d And the magnificence of his abode. He, flying from the far-famed Pylian King, The mighty Neleus by force possess’d a year complete. Meantime, Melampus in the house endured Of Phylacus imprisonment and woe, And burn’d with wrath for Neleus’ daughter sake By fell Erynnis kindled in his heart. From Phylace to Pylus, well avenged His num’rous injuries at Neleus’ hands Sustain’d, and gave into his brother’s arms King Neleus’ daughter fair, the promis’d bride. To Argos steed-renown’d he journey’d next, There destin’d to inhabit and to rule Multitudes of Achaians. In that land He married, built a palace, and became Father of two brave sons, Antiphates And Mantius; to Antiphates was born The brave OÏcleus; from OÏcleus sprang AmphiaraÜs, demagogue renown’d, Whom with all tenderness, and as a friend Alike the Thund’rer and Apollo prized; Yet reach’d he not the bounds of hoary age. But by his mercenary consort’s arts Persuaded, met his destiny at Thebes. He ’gat AlcmÆon and Amphilocus. Mantius was also father of two sons, Clytus and Polyphides. Clytus pass’d From earth to heav’n, and dwells among the Gods, Stol’n by Aurora for his beauty’s sake. But (brave AmphiaraÜs once deceased) Phoebus exalted Polyphides far Above all others in the prophet’s part. He, anger’d by his father, roam’d away To Hyperesia, where he dwelt renown’d Throughout all lands the oracle of all. His son, named Theoclymenus, was he Who now approach’d; he found Telemachus Libation off’ring in his bark, and pray’r, And in wing’d accents ardent him address’d. Ah, friend! since sacrificing in this place I find thee, by these sacred rites and those Whom thou ador’st, and by thy own dear life, And by the lives of these thy mariners I beg true answer; hide not what I ask. Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom? I will inform thee, stranger! and will solve Thy questions with much truth. I am by birth Ithacan, and Ulysses was my sire. But he hath perish’d by a woeful death, And I, believing it, with these have plow’d The ocean hither, int’rested to learn A father’s fate long absent from his home. Then answer’d godlike Theoclymenus. I also am a wand’rer, having slain A man of my own tribe; brethren and friends Num’rous had he in Argos steed-renown’d, And pow’rful are the Achaians dwelling there. From them, through terrour of impending death, I fly, a banish’d man henceforth for ever. Ah save a suppliant fugitive! lest death O’ertake me, for I doubt not their pursuit. Whom thus Telemachus answer’d discrete. I shall not, be assured, since thou desir’st To join me, chace thee from my bark away. Follow me, therefore, and with us partake, In Ithaca, what best the land affords. So saying, he at the stranger’s hand received His spear, which on the deck he lay’d, then climb’d Himself the bark, and, seated in the stern, At his own side placed Theoclymenus. They cast the hawsers loose; then with loud voice Telemachus exhorted all to hand The tackle, whom the sailors prompt obey’d. The tall mast heaving, in its socket deep They lodg’d it, and its cordage braced secure, Then, straining at the halyards, hoised the sail. Fair wind, and blowing fresh through Æther pure Minerva sent them, that the bark might run Her nimblest course through all the briny way. Now sank the sun, and dusky ev’ning dimm’d The waves, when, driven by propitious Jove, His bark stood right for PherÆ; thence she stretch’d To sacred Elis where the Epeans rule, And through the sharp Echinades he next Steer’d her, uncertain whether fate ordain’d His life or death, surprizal or escape. Meantime Ulysses and the swine-herd ate Theirs also; and when hunger now and thirst Had ceased in all, Ulysses thus began, Proving the swine-herd, whether friendly still, And anxious for his good, he would intreat His stay, or thence hasten him to the town. EumÆus, and all ye his servants, hear! It is my purpose, lest I wear thee out, Thee and thy friends, to seek at early dawn The city, there to beg—But give me first Needful instructions, and a trusty guide Who may conduct me thither; there my task Must be to roam the streets; some hand humane Perchance shall give me a small pittance there, A little bread, and a few drops to drink. Ulysses’ palace I shall also seek, And to discrete Penelope report My tidings; neither shall I fail to mix With those imperious suitors, who, themselves Full-fed, may spare perhaps some boon to me. Me shall they find, in whatsoe’er they wish Their ready servitor, for (understand And mark me well) the herald of the skies, Hermes, from whom all actions of mankind Their grace receive and polish, is my friend, So that in menial offices I fear No rival, whether I be called to heap The hearth with fuel, or dry wood to cleave, To roast, to carve, or to distribute wine, As oft the poor are wont who serve the great. To whom, EumÆus! at those words displeased, Thou didst reply. Gods! how could such a thought Possess thee, stranger? surely thy resolve Is altogether fixt to perish there, If thou indeed hast purposed with that throng To mix, whose riot and outrageous acts Of violence echo through the vault of heav’n. None, such as thou, serve them; their servitors Are youths well-cloak’d, well-vested; sleek their heads, And smug their countenances; such alone Are their attendants, and the polish’d boards Groan overcharg’d with bread, with flesh, with wine. Rest here content; for neither me nor these Shall come, he will with vest and mantle fair Cloath thee, and send thee whither most thou would’st. To whom Ulysses, toil-inured. I wish thee, O EumÆus! dear to Jove As thou art dear to me, for this reprieve Vouchsafed me kind, from wand’ring and from woe! No worse condition is of mortal man Than his who wanders; for the poor man, driv’n By woe and by misfortune homeless forth, A thousand mis’ries, day by day, endures. Since thou detain’st me, then, and bidd’st me wait His coming, tell me if the father still Of famed Ulysses live, whom, going hence, He left so nearly on the verge of life? And lives his mother? or have both deceased Already, and descended to the shades? To whom the master swine-herd thus replied. I will inform thee, and with strictest truth, Of all that thou hast ask’d. Laertes lives, But supplication off’ring to the Gods Ceaseless, to free him from a weary life, So deeply his long-absent son he mourns, And the dear consort of his early youth, Whose death is his chief sorrow, and hath brought Old age on him, or ere its date arrived. She died of sorrow for her glorious son, And died deplorably; Of mine, or benefactor die as she! While yet she liv’d, dejected as she was, I found it yet some solace to converse With her, who rear’d me in my childish days, Together with her lovely youngest-born The Princess Ctimena; for side by side We grew, and I, scarce honour’d less than she. But soon as our delightful prime we both Attain’d, to Samos her they sent, a bride, And were requited with rich dow’r; but me Cloath’d handsomely with tunic and with vest, And with fair sandals furnish’d, to the field She order’d forth, yet loved me still the more. I miss her kindness now; but gracious heav’n Hence have I food, and hence I drink, and hence Refresh, sometimes, a worthy guest like thee. But kindness none experience I, or can, From fair Penelope (my mistress now) In word or action, so is the house curs’d With that lewd throng. Glad would the servants be Might they approach their mistress, and receive Advice from her; glad too to eat and drink, And somewhat bear each to his rural home, For perquisites are ev’ry servant’s joy. Then answer thus, Ulysses wise return’d. Alas! good swain, EumÆus, how remote From friends and country wast thou forced to roam Ev’n in thy infancy! But tell me true. The city where thy parents dwelt, did foes Pillage it? or did else some hostile band Surprizing thee alone, on herd or flock Attendant, bear thee with them o’er the Deep, And sell thee at this Hero’s house, who pay’d Doubtless for thee no sordid price or small? To whom the master swine-herd in reply. Stranger! since thou art curious to be told My story, silent listen, and thy wine At leisure quaff. The nights are longest now, And such as time for sleep afford, and time For pleasant conf’rence; neither were it good That thou should’st to thy couch before thy hour, Since even sleep is hurtful, in excess. Whoever here is weary, and desires Early repose, let him depart to rest, And, at the peep of day, when he hath fed Sufficiently, drive forth my master’s herd; But we with wine and a well-furnish’d board Supplied, will solace mutually derive From recollection of our sufferings past; For who hath much endured, and wander’d far, Finds the recital ev’n of sorrow sweet. Now hear thy question satisfied; attend! There is an island (thou hast heard, perchance, Of such an isle) named Syria; True to the tropic changes of the year. No great extent she boasts, yet is she rich In cattle and in flocks, in wheat and wine. No famine knows that people, or disease Noisome, of all that elsewhere seize the race Of miserable man; but when old age Steals on the citizens, Apollo, arm’d With silver bow and bright Diana come, Whose gentle shafts dismiss them soon to rest. Two cities share between them all the isle, And both were subject to my father’s sway Ctesius Ormenides, a godlike Chief. It chanced that from Phoenicia, famed for skill In arts marine, a vessel thither came By sharpers mann’d, and laden deep with toys. Now, in my father’s family abode A fair Phoenician, tall, full-sized, an |
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