  The beggar Irus arrives at the palace; a combat takes place between him and Ulysses, in which Irus is by one blow vanquished. Penelope appears to the suitors, and having reminded them of the presents which she had a right to expect from them, receives a gift from each. Eurymachus, provoked by a speech of Ulysses, flings a foot-stool at him, which knocks down the cup-bearer; a general tumult is the consequence, which continues, till by the advice of Telemachus, seconded by Amphinomus, the suitors retire to their respective homes. Now came a public mendicant, a man Accustom’d, seeking alms, to roam the streets Of Ithaca; one never sated yet With food or drink; yet muscle had he none, Or strength of limb, though giant-built in show. ArnÆus was the name which at his birth His mother gave him, but the youthful band Of suitors, whom as messenger he served, All named him Irus. He, arriving, sought To drive Ulysses forth from his own home, And in rough accents rude him thus rebuked. Forth from the porch, old man! lest by the foot I drag thee quickly forth. Seest not how all Wink on me, and by signs give me command To drag thee hence? nor is it aught but shame That checks me. Yet arise, lest soon with fists Thou force me to adjust our diff’rence. To whom Ulysses, low’ring dark, replied. Peace, fellow! neither word nor deed of mine Wrongs thee, nor feel I envy at the boon, However plentiful, which thou receiv’st. The sill may hold us both; thou dost not well To envy others; thou appear’st like me A vagrant; plenty is the gift of heav’n. But urge me not to trial of our fists, Lest thou provoke me, and I stain with blood Thy bosom and thy lips, old as I am. More tranquil here; for thou should’st leave, I judge, Ulysses’ mansion, never to return. Then answer’d Irus, kindling with disdain. Gods! with what volubility of speech The table-hunter prates, like an old hag Collied with chimney-smutch! but ah beware! For I intend thee mischief, and to dash With both hands ev’ry grinder from thy gums, As men untooth a pig pilf’ring the corn. Come—gird thee, that all here may view the strife— But how wilt thou oppose one young as I? Thus on the threshold of the lofty gate They, wrangling, chafed each other, whose dispute The high-born youth AntinoÜs mark’d; he laugh’d Delighted, and the suitors thus address’d. Oh friends! no pastime ever yet occurr’d Pleasant as this which, now, the Gods themselves Afford us. Irus and the stranger brawl As they would box. Haste—let us urge them on. He said; at once loud-laughing all arose; The ill-clad disputants they round about Encompass’d, and AntinoÜs thus began. Attend ye noble suitors to my voice. Two paunches lie of goats here on the fire, Which fill’d with fat and blood we set apart For supper; he who conquers, and in force Superior proves, shall freely take the paunch Which he prefers, and shall with us thenceforth Feast always; neither will we here admit Poor man beside to beg at our repasts. He spake, whom all approved; next, artful Chief Ulysses thus, dissembling, them address’d. Princes! unequal is the strife between A young man and an old with mis’ry worn; But hunger, always counsellor of ill, Me moves to fight, that many a bruise received, I may be foil’d at last. Now swear ye all A solemn oath, that none, for Irus’ sake Shall, interposing, smite me with his fist Clandestine, forcing me to yield the prize. He ceas’d, and, as he bade, all present swore A solemn oath; then thus, amid them all Guest! if thy courage and thy manly mind Prompt thee to banish this man hence, no force Fear thou beside, for who smites thee, shall find Yet other foes to cope with; I am here In the host’s office, and the royal Chiefs Eurymachus and AntinoÜs, alike Discrete, accord unanimous with me. He ceas’d, whom all approved. Then, with his rags Ulysses braced for decency his loins Around, but gave to view his brawny thighs Proportion’d fair, and stripp’d his shoulders broad, His chest and arms robust; while, at his side, Dilating more the Hero’s limbs and more Minerva stood; the assembly with fixt eyes Astonish’d gazed on him, and, looking full On his next friend, a suitor thus remark’d. Irus shall be in Irus found no more. He hath pull’d evil on himself. What thewes And what a haunch the senior’s tatters hid! So he—meantime in Irus’ heart arose Horrible tumult; yet, his loins by force Girding, the servants dragg’d him to the fight Pale, and his flesh all quiv’ring as he came; Whose terrors thus AntinoÜs sharp rebuked. Now, wherefore liv’st, and why wast ever born Thou mountain-mass of earth! if such dismay Shake thee at thought of combat with a man Ancient as he, and worn with many woes? But mark, I threaten not in vain; should he O’ercome thee, and in force superior prove, To Echetus thou go’st; my sable bark Shall waft thee to Epirus, where he reigns Enemy of mankind; of nose and ears He shall despoil thee with his ruthless steel, And tearing by the roots the parts away That mark thy sex, shall cast them to the dogs. He said; His limbs new terrors at that sound Shook under him; into the middle space They led him, and each raised his hands on high. Whether to strike him lifeless to the earth At once, or fell him with a managed blow. To smite with managed force at length he chose As wisest, lest, betray’d by his own strength, He should be known. With elevated fists Both stood; him Irus on the shoulder struck, But he his adversary on the neck Pash’d close beneath his ear; he split the bones, And blood in sable streams ran from his mouth. With many an hideous yell he dropp’d, his teeth Chatter’d, and with his heels he drumm’d the ground. The wooers, at that sight, lifting their hands In glad surprize, laugh’d all their breath away. Then, through the vestibule, and right across The court, Ulysses dragg’d him by the foot Into the portico, where propping him Against the wall, and giving him his staff, In accents wing’d he bade him thus farewell. There seated now, dogs drive and swine away, Nor claim (thyself so base) supreme controul O’er other guests and mendicants, lest harm Reach thee, hereafter, heavier still than this. So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his back He threw suspended by its leathern twist, And tow’rd the threshold turning, sat again, They laughing ceaseless still, the palace-door Re-enter’d, and him, courteous, thus bespake. Jove, and all Jove’s assessors in the skies Vouchsafe thee, stranger, whatsoe’er it be, Thy heart’s desire! who hast our ears reliev’d From that insatiate beggar’s irksome tone. Soon to Epirus he shall go dispatch’d To Echetus the King, pest of mankind. So they, to whose propitious words the Chief Listen’d delighted. Then AntinoÜs placed The paunch before him, and Amphinomus Two loaves, selected from the rest; he fill’d A goblet also, drank to him, and said, My father, hail! O stranger, be thy lot Hereafter blest, though adverse now and hard! To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. To me, Amphinomus, endued thou seem’st Of such a sire, whose fair report I know, Dulichian Nysus, opulent and good. Fame speaks thee his, and thou appear’st a man Judicious; hear me, therefore; mark me well. Earth nourishes, of all that breathe or creep, No creature weak as man; for while the Gods Grant him prosperity and health, no fear Hath he, or thought, that he shall ever mourn; But when the Gods with evils unforeseen Smite him, he bears them with a grudging mind; For such as the complexion of his lot By the appointment of the Sire of all, Such is the colour of the mind of man. I, too, have been familiar in my day With wealth and ease, but I was then self-will’d, And many wrong’d, embolden’d by the thought Of my own father’s and my brethren’s pow’r. Let no man, therefore, be unjust, but each Use modestly what gift soe’er of heav’n. So do not these. These ever bent I see On deeds injurious, the possessions large Consuming, and dishonouring the wife Of one, who will not, as I judge, remain Long absent from his home, but is, perchance, Ev’n at the door. Thee, therefore, may the Gods Steal hence in time! ah, meet not his return To his own country! for they will not part, (He and the suitors) without blood, I think, If once he enter at these gates again! He ended, and, libation pouring, quaff’d The generous juice, then in the prince’s hand Replaced the cup; he, pensive, and his head Inclining low, pass’d from him; for his heart Forboded ill; yet ’scaped not even he, But in the snare of Pallas caught, his life To the heroic arm and spear resign’d Of brave Telemachus. Reaching, at length, The seat whence he had ris’n, he sat again. Minerva then, Goddess, cÆrulean-eyed, Prompted Icarius’ daughter to appear Before the suitors; so to expose the more Their drift iniquitous, and that herself Might shine, and in her son’s. Much mirth she feign’d, And, bursting into laughter, thus began. I wish, Eurynome! (who never felt That wish till now) though I detest them all, To appear before the suitors, in whose ears I will admonish, for his good, my son, Not to associate with that lawless crew Too much, who speak him fair, but foul intend. Then answer thus Eurynome return’d. My daughter! wisely hast thou said and well. Go! bathe thee and anoint thy face, then give To thy dear son such counsel as thou wilt Without reserve; but shew not there thy cheeks Sullied with tears, for profit none accrues From grief like thine, that never knows a change. And he is now bearded, and hath attained That age which thou wast wont with warmest pray’r To implore the Gods that he might live to see. Her answer’d then Penelope discrete. Persuade not me, though studious of my good, To bathe, Eurynome! or to anoint My face with oil; for all my charms the Gods Inhabitants of Olympus then destroy’d, When he, embarking, left me. Go, command Hippodamia and AutonÖe That they attend me to the hall, and wait Beside me there; for decency forbids That I should enter to the men, alone. She ceas’d, and through the house the ancient dame Hasted to summon whom she had enjoin’d. But Pallas, Goddess of the azure eyes, Diffused, meantime, the kindly dew of sleep Around Icarius’ daughter; on her couch Reclining, soon as she reclin’d, she dozed, And yielded to soft slumber all her frame. Then, that the suitors might admire her more, The glorious Goddess cloath’d her, as she lay, With beauty of the skies; her lovely face She with ambrosia purified, with such As Cytherea chaplet-crown’d employs Herself, when in the eye-ensnaring dance Beneath her touch, and ampler size she grew, And fairer than the elephantine bone Fresh from the carver’s hand. These gifts conferr’d Divine, the awful Deity retired. And now, loud-prattling as they came, arrived Her handmaids; sleep forsook her at the sound, She wiped away a tear, and thus she said. Me gentle sleep, sad mourner as I am, Hath here involved. O would that by a death As gentle chaste Diana would herself This moment set me free, that I might waste My life no longer in heart-felt regret Of a lamented husband’s various worth And virtue, for in Greece no Peer had he! She said, and through her chambers’ stately door Issuing, descended; neither went she sole, But with those two fair menials of her train. Arriving, most majestic of her sex, In presence of the num’rous guests, beneath The portal of the stately dome she stood Between her maidens, with her lucid veil Mantling her lovely cheeks. Then, ev’ry knee Trembled, and ev’ry heart with am’rous heat Dissolv’d, her charms all coveting alike, While to Telemachus her son she spake. Telemachus! thou art no longer wise As once thou wast, and even when a child. For thriven as thou art, and at full size Arrived of man, so fair proportion’d, too, That ev’n a stranger, looking on thy growth And beauty, would pronounce thee nobly born, Yet is thy intellect still immature. For what is this? why suffer’st thou a guest To be abused in thy own palace? how? Know’st not that if the stranger seated here Endure vexation, the disgrace is thine? Her answer’d, then, Telemachus discrete. I blame thee not, my mother, that thou feel’st Thine anger moved; yet want I not a mind Able to mark and to discern between Evil and good, child as I lately was, Although I find not promptitude of thought By such a multitude, all bent alike On mischief, of whom none takes part with me. But Irus and the stranger have not fought, Urged by the suitors, and the stranger prov’d Victorious; yes—heav’n knows how much I wish That, (in the palace some, some in the court) The suitors all sat vanquish’d, with their heads Depending low, and with enfeebled limbs, Even as that same Irus, while I speak, With chin on bosom propp’d at the hall-gate Sits drunkard-like, incapable to stand Erect, or to regain his proper home. So they; and now addressing to the Queen His speech, Eurymachus thus interposed. O daughter of Icarius! could all eyes Throughout IÄsian Argos Discrete Penelope! more suitors still Assembling in thy courts would banquet here From morn to eve; for thou surpassest far In beauty, stature, worth, all womankind. To whom replied Penelope discrete. The Gods, Eurymachus! reduced to nought My virtue, beauty, stature, when the Greeks, Whom my Ulysses follow’d, sail’d to Troy. Could he, returning, my domestic charge Himself intend, far better would my fame Be so secured, and wider far diffused. But I am wretched now, such storms the Gods Of woe have sent me. When he left his home, Clasping my wrist with his right hand, he said. My love! for I imagine not that all The warrior Greeks shall safe from Troy return, Since fame reports the Trojans brave in fight, Skill’d in the spear, mighty to draw the bow, And nimble vaulters to the backs of steeds High-mettled, which to speediest issue bring The dreadful struggle of all-wasting war— I know not, therefore, whether heav’n intend My safe return, or I must perish there. But manage thou at home. Cherish, as now, While I am absent, or more dearly still Mature, then wed; wed even whom thou wilt, And hence to a new home.—Such were his words, All which shall full accomplishment ere long Receive. The day is near, when hapless I, Lost to all comfort by the will of Jove, Must meet the nuptials that my soul abhors. But this thought now afflicts me, and my mind Continual haunts. Such was not heretofore The suitors’ custom’d practice; all who chose To engage in competition for a wife Well-qualitied and well-endow’d, produced From their own herds and fatted flocks a feast For the bride’s friends, and splendid presents made, But never ate as ye, at others’ cost. She ceased; then brave Ulysses toil-inured Rejoiced that, soothing them, she sought to draw From each some gift, although on other views, And more important far, himself intent. Then thus AntinoÜs, Eupithes’ son. Icarius’ daughter wise! only accept Such gifts as we shall bring, for gifts demand That grace, nor can be decently refused; But to our rural labours, or elsewhere Depart not we, till first thy choice be made Of the Achaian, chief in thy esteem. AntinoÜs spake, whose answer all approved. Then each dispatch’d his herald who should bring His master’s gift. AntinoÜs’ herald, first A mantle of surpassing beauty brought, Wide, various, with no fewer clasps adorn’d Than twelve, all golden, and to ev’ry clasp Was fitted opposite its eye exact. Next, to Eurymachus his herald bore A necklace of wrought gold, with amber rich Bestudded, ev’ry bead bright as a sun. Two servants for Eurydamas produced Ear-pendants fashion’d with laborious art, Broad, triple-gemm’d, of brilliant light profuse. The herald of Polyctor’s son, the prince Pisander, brought a collar to his Lord, A sumptuous ornament. Each Greecian gave, And each a gift dissimilar from all. She sought her chamber, whom her maidens fair Attended, charged with those illustrious gifts. Then turn’d, they all to dance and pleasant song Joyous, expecting the approach of ev’n. Ere long the dusky evening came, and them Found sporting still. Then, placing in the hall Three hearths that should illumine wide the house, They compass’d them around with fuel-wood Long-season’d and new-split, mingling the sticks With torches. The attendant women watch’d And fed those fires by turns, to whom, himself, Their unknown Sov’reign thus his speech address’d. Ye maidens of the long-regretted Chief Ulysses! to the inner-courts retire, And to your virtuous Queen, that following there Your sev’ral tasks, spinning and combing wool, Ye may amuse her; I, meantime, for these Will furnish light, and should they chuse to stay Till golden morn appear, they shall not tire My patience aught, for I can much endure. He said; they, titt’ring, on each other gazed. But one, Melantho with the blooming cheeks, Rebuked him rudely. Dolius was her sire, But by Penelope she had been reared With care maternal, and in infant years Supplied with many a toy; yet even she Felt not her mistress’ sorrows in her heart, But, of Eurymachus enamour’d, oft His lewd embraces met; she, with sharp speech Reproachful, to Ulysses thus replied. Why—what a brainsick vagabond art thou! Who neither wilt to the smith’s forge retire For sleep, nor to the public portico, But here remaining, with audacious prate Disturb’st this num’rous company, restrain’d By no respect or fear; either thou art With wine intoxicated, or, perchance, Art always fool, and therefore babblest now. Say, art thou drunk with joy that thou hast foiled The beggar Irus? Tremble, lest a man Stronger than Irus suddenly arise, Who on thy temples pelting thee with blows With many a bruise, and foul with thy own blood. To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied. Snarler! Telemachus shall be inform’d This moment of thy eloquent harangue, That he may hew thee for it, limb from limb. So saying, he scared the women; back they flew Into the house, but each with falt’ring knees Through dread, for they believ’d his threats sincere. He, then illumin’d by the triple blaze, Watch’d close the lights, busy from hearth to hearth, But in his soul, meantime, far other thoughts Revolved, tremendous, not conceived in vain. Nor Pallas (that they might exasp’rate more Laertes’ son) permitted to abstain From heart-corroding bitterness of speech Those suitors proud, of whom Eurymachus, Offspring of Polybus, while thus he jeer’d Ulysses, set the others in a roar. Hear me, ye suitors of the illustrious Queen! I shall promulge my thought. This man, methinks, Not unconducted by the Gods, hath reach’d Ulysses’ mansion, for to me the light Of yonder torches altogether seems His own, an emanation from his head, Which not the smallest growth of hair obscures. He ended; and the city-waster Chief Himself accosted next. Art thou disposed To serve me, friend! would I afford thee hire, A labourer at my farm? thou shalt not want Sufficient wages; thou may’st there collect Stones for my fences, and may’st plant my oaks, For which I would supply thee all the year With food, and cloaths, and sandals for thy feet. But thou hast learn’d less creditable arts, Nor hast a will to work, preferring much By beggary from others to extort Wherewith to feed thy never-sated maw. Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d. Forbear, Eurymachus; for were we match’d In work against each other, thou and I, Mowing in spring-time, when the days are long, I with my well-bent sickle in my hand, Of our ability to toil unfed Till night, grass still sufficing for the proof.— Or if, again, it were our task to drive Yoked oxen of the noblest breed, sleek-hair’d, Big-limb’d, both batten’d to the full with grass, Their age and aptitude for work the same Not soon to be fatigued, and were the field In size four acres, with a glebe through which The share might smoothly slide, then should’st thou see How strait my furrow should be cut and true.— Or should Saturnian Jove this day excite Here, battle, or elsewhere, and were I arm’d With two bright spears and with a shield, and bore A brazen casque well-fitted to my brows, Me, then, thou should’st perceive mingling in fight Amid the foremost Chiefs, nor with the crime Of idle beggary should’st upbraid me more. But thou art much a railer, one whose heart Pity moves not, and seem’st a mighty man And valiant to thyself, only because Thou herd’st with few, and those of little worth. But should Ulysses come, at his own isle Again arrived, wide as these portals are, To thee, at once, too narrow they should seem To shoot thee forth with speed enough abroad. He ceased—then tenfold indignation fired Eurymachus; he furrow’d deep his brow With frowns, and in wing’d accents thus replied. Wretch, I shall roughly handle thee anon, Who thus with fluent prate presumptuous dar’st Disturb this num’rous company, restrain’d By no respect or fear. Either thou art With wine intoxicated, or, perchance, Art always fool, and therefore babblest now; Or thou art frantic haply with delight That thou hast foil’d yon vagabond obscure. So saying, he seized a stool; but to the knees Ulysses flew of the Dulichian Prince Amphinomus, and sat, fearing incensed Eurymachus; he on his better hand Smote full the cup-bearer; on the hall-floor Loud rang the fallen beaker, and himself Strait through the dusky hall tumult ensued Among the suitors, of whom thus, a youth, With eyes directed to the next, exclaim’d. Would that this rambling stranger had elsewhere Perish’d, or ever he had here arrived, Then no such uproar had he caused as this! This doth the beggar; he it is for whom We wrangle thus, and may despair of peace Or |
|
