By many such I have been warn'd; but chief
By one Etolian robb'd of all belief,
Whose hap it was to this our roof to roam,
For murder Fanish'd from his native home.
He swore, Ulysses on the coast of Crete
Staid but a season to refit his fleet;

A few revolving months should waft him o'er,
Fraught with bold warriors, and a boundless store.
O thou! whom age has taught to understand,
And Heaven has guided with a favouring hand!
On god or mortal to obtrude a lie
Forbear, and dread to flatter as to die.
Not for such ends my house and heart are free,
But dear respect to Jove and charity."

"And why, O swain, of unbelieving mind?” (Thus quick reply'd the wisest of mankind) "Doubt you my oth? yet more my faith to try, A solemn compact let us ratify,

And witness every power that rules the sky!
If here Ulysses from his labours rest,
Be then my prize a tunic and a yest;

And, where my hopes invite me, straight transport
In safety to Dulichium's friendly court.
But, if he greets not thy desiring cye,
Hurl me from yon dread precipice on high;
The due reward of fraud and perjury."

[mine" Doubtless, O guest! great laud and praise were (Reply'd the swain for spotless faith divine) "If, after social rites and gifts bestow'd, I stain'd my hospitable hearth with blood, How would the gods my righteous toils succeed, And bless the hand that made a stranger bleed? No more th' approaching hours of silent night First claim reflection, then to rest invite; Beneath our humble cottage let us haste, And here, unenvy'd, rural dainties taste."

Thus commun'd these; while to their lowly dome

The full-fed swine return'd with evening home;
Compell'd, reluctant, to the several sties,
With din obstreperous, and ungrateful cries.
Then to the slaves-" Now from the herd the best
Select, in honour of our foreign guest;
With him let us the genial banquet share,
For great and many are the griefs we bear:
While those who from our labours heap their board,
Blaspheme their feeder, and forget their lord."

Thus speaking, with dispatchful hand he took
A weighty ax, and cleft the solid oak;
This on the earth he pil'd; a boar full fed,
Of five years age, before the pile was led :
The swain, whom acts of piety delight,
Observant of the gods, begins the rite;
First shears the forehead of the bristly boar,
And suppliant stands, invoking every power
To speed Ulysses to his native shore.
A knotty stake then aiming at his head,
Down dropt he groaning, and the spirit fled.
The scorching flames climb round on every side:
Then the ging'd members they with skill divide;
On these, in rolls of fat involv'd with art,
The choicest morsels lay from every part [threw:
Some in the flaines, bestrow'd with flour, they
Some cut in fragments, from the forks they drew;
These while on several tables they dispose,
As priest himself the blameless, rustic rose;
Expert the des in'd victim to dis-part

In seven just portions, pure of hand and heart.
One sacred to the nymphs apart they lay;
Another to the winged son of May:

The rural tribe in common share the rest,
The king the chine, the honour of the feast,
Who sate delighted at his servant's board;
The faithful servant joy'd his unknown lord.
"Oh! be thoa dear (Ulysses cry'd) to Jove,
As well thou claim'st a grateful stranger's love th
"Be then thy thanks" (the bounteous swain re-
Enjoyment of the good the gods provide. [ply'd)
From God's own hand descend our joys and woes;
These he decrees, and he but suffers those :
All power is his, and whatsoe'er he wills,
The will itself, omnipotent, fulfils."
This said, the first-fruits to the gods he gave ;
Then pour'd of offer'd wine the sable wave:
In great Ulysses' hand he plac'd the bowl,
He sate, and sweet refection cheer'd his soul,
The bread from cannisters Mesaulius gave,
(Eumæus' proper treasure bought this slave,
And led from Taphos, to attend his board,
A servant added to his absent lord)
His task it was the wheaten loaves to lay,
And from the banquet take the bowls away.
And now the rage of hunger was repress'd,
And each betakes him to his couch to rest.
Now came the night, and darkness cover'd o'er
The face of things; the winds began to roar :
The driving storm the watery west-wind pours,
And Jove descends in deluges of showers.
Studious of rest and warmth, Ulysses lies,
Foreseeing from the first the storm would rise;
In mere necessity of coat and cloak,
With artful preface to his host he spoke : [grace;
"Hear me, my friends who this good banquet
'Tis sweet to play the fool in time and place,
And wine can of their wits the wise beguile,
Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile,
The grave in merry measures frisk about,
And many a long-repented word bring out.
Since to be talkative I now commence,

Let wit cast off the sullen yoke of sense. [days!)
Once I was strong (would Heaven restore those
And with my betters claim'd my share of praise.
Ulysses, Menelaus, led forth a band, [mand;)
And join'd me with them ('twas their own com-
A deathful ambush for the foe to lay,
Beneath Troy's walls by night we took our way:
There clad in arms, along the marshes spread,
We made the osier-fringed bank qur bed,
Full soon th' inclemency of Heaven I feel,
Nor had these shoulders covering but of steel,
Sharp blew the north; snow whitening all the fields
Froze with the blast, and gathering glaz'd our

shields.

There all but I, well fenc'd with cloak and vest,
Lay cover'd by their ample shields at rest.
Fool that I was! I left behind my own;
The skill of weather and of winds unknown,
And trusted to my coat and shield alone!
When now was wasted more than half the night,
And the stars faded at approaching light;
Sudden Ijogg'd Ulysses, who was laid
Fast by my side, and shivering thus I said:

"Here longer in this field I cannot lie;
The winter pinches, and with cold I die,
And die asham'd (O wisest of mankind)
The only fool who left his cloak behind.'

"He thought, and answer'd: hardly waking yet, Sprung in his mind the momentary wit (That wit, which or in council, or in fight, Still met th' emergence, and determin'd right.)

'Hush thee,' he cry'd, (soft whispering in my ear) 'Speak not a word, lest any Greek may hearAnd then (supporting on his arm his head)

Hear me, companions? (thus aloud he said) 'Methinks too distant from the fleet we lie: Ev'n now a vision stood before my eye,

And sure the warning vision was from high:
Let from among us some swift courier rise,
Haste to the general, and demand supplies.'
"Upstarted Thoas straight, Andræmon's son,
Nimbly he rose, and cast his garments down;
Instant, the racer vanish'd off the ground;
That instant, in his cloak I wrapp'd me round:
And safe I slept, till brightly dawning shone
The morn conspicuous on her golden throne.

sending the vessel to the town, proceeds by himself to the lodge of Eumæus.

Now had Minerva reach'd those ample plains,
Fam'd for the dance, where Menelaus reigns;
Anxious she flies to great Ulysses' heir,
His instant voyage challeng'd all her care.
Beneath the royal portico display'd,
With Nestor's son, Telemachus was lay'd;
In sleep profound the son of Nestor lies;
Not thine, Ulysses! Care unseal'd his eyes:
Restless he griev'd, with various fears oppress'd,
And all thy fortunes roll'd within his breast.
When, "O Telemachus !" (the goddess said)

Some friend would fence me from the winter's rage.

כגן

Yet; tatter'd as I look, I challeng'd then
The honours and the offices of men :
Some master, or some servant, would allow
A cloak and vest-but I am nothing now
"Well hast thou spoke" (rejoin'd th' attentive
"Thy lips let fall no idle word or vain! [swain)
Nor garment shalt thou want, nor aught beside,
Meet for the wandering suppliant to provide.
But in the morning take thy clothes again,
For here one vest suffices every swain ;
No change of garments to our hinds is known:
But, when return'd, the good Ulysses' son
With better hand shall grace with fit attires
His guest, and send thee where thy soul desires."
The honest herdsman rose, as this he said,
And drew before the hearth the stranger's bed:
The fleecy spoils of sheep, a goat's rough hider
He spreads; and adds a mantle thick and wide;
With store to heap above him, and below,
And guard each quarter as the tempests blow.
There lay the king and all the rest supine;
All, but the careful master of the swine:
Forth hasted he to tend his bristly care;
Well arm'd, and fenc'd against nocturnal air;
His weighty falchion o'er his shoulder tied :
His shaggy cloak a mountain goat supplied:
With his broad spear, the dread of dogs and men,
He seeks his lodging in the rocky den.
There to the tusky herd he bends his way,
[lay.
Where, screen'd from Boreas, high o'er-arch'd they

THE ODYSSEY.

BOOK XV.

ARGUMENT.

THE RETURN OF TELEMACHUS.

THE goddess Minerva commands Telemachus in a vision to return to Ithaca. Pisistratus and he take leave of Menelaus, and arrive at Pylos, where they part; and Telemachus sets sail, after having received on board Theoclymenus the soothsayer. The scene then changes to the cottage of Eumeus, who entertains Ulysses with a recital of his adventures. In the mean

time Telemachus arrives on the coast, and,

Thus leaving careless thy paternal right
The robber's prize, the prey to lawless might.
'On fond pursuits neglectful while you roam,
Ev'n now the hand of rapine sacks the dome.
Hence to Atrides; and his leave implore
To lanch thy vessel for thy natal shore ;
Fly, whilst thy mother virtuous yet withstands
Her kindred's wishes, and her sire's commands;
Through both Eurymachus pursues the dame,
And with the noblest gifts asserts his claim.
Hence, therefore, while thy stores thy own remain;
Thou know'st the practice of the female train:
Lost in the children of the present spouse
They slight the pledges of their former vows;
Their love is always with the lover past;
Still the succeeding flame expels the last.
Let o'er thy house some chosen maid preside,
Till Heaven decrees to bless thee in a bride.
But now thy more attentive ears incline,
Observe the warnings of a power divine:
For thee their snares the suitor lords shall lay
In Samos' sands, or straits of Ithaca;
To seize thy life shall lurk the murderous band,
Ere yet thy footsteps press thy native land.
No sooner far their riot and their lust
All-covering earth shall bury deep in dust!
Then distant from the scatter'd islands steer,
For let the night retard thy full career;
Thy heavenly guardian shall instruct the gales,
To smooth thy passage, and supply thy sails:
And when at Ithaca thy labour ends,
Send to the town thy vessel with thy friends;
But seek thou first the master of thy swine
(For still to thee his loyal thoughts incline);
There pass the night: while he his course pursues
To bring Penelope the wish'd-for news,
That thou, safe sailing from the Pylian strand,
Art come to bless her in thy native land."nin
Thus spoke the goddess, and resum'd her flight,
To the pure regions of eternal light.
Meanwhile Pisistratus he gently shakes,

"

And with these words the slumbering youth awakes:
Rise, son of Nestor! for the road prepare,
And join the harness'd coursers to the car.
"What cause," he cried, "can justify our flight,
To tempt the dangers of forbidden night?
Here wait we rather, till approaching day
Shall prompt our speed, and point the ready way.
Nor think of flight before the Spartan king
Shall bid farewell, and bounteous presents bring;
Gifts, which, to distant ages safely stor'd,
The sacred act of friendship shall record."

Feast,

Thus he. But when the dawn bestreak'd the

The king from Helen rose, and sought his guest.

As soon as his approach the hero knew,
The splendid mantle round him first he threw,
Then o'er his ample shoulders whirl'd the cloak,
Respectful met the monarch, and bespoke:

"Hail great Atrides, favour'd of high Jove!
Let not thy friends in vain for licence move.
Swift let us measure back the watery way,
Nor check our speed, impatient of delay.
"If with desire so strong thy bosom glows,
Ill, said the king, should I thy wish oppose;
For oft in others freely I reprove

The ill-tim'd efforts of officious love;

Who love too much, hate in the like extreme,
And both the golden mean alike condemn.
Alike he thwarts the hospitable end,

Who drives the free, or stays the hasty friend;
True friendship's laws are by this rule express'd,
Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
Yet stay, my friends, and in your chariot take
The noblest presents that our love can make:
Meantime commit we to our women's care,
Some choice domestic viands to prepare ;
The traveller, rising from the banquet gay,
Eludes the labours of the tedious way.
Then if a wider course shall rather please
Through spacious Argos, and the realms of Greece,
Atrides in his chariot shall attend;
Himself thy convoy to each royal friend.
No prince will let Ulysses' heir remove
Without some pledge, some monument of love:
These will the caldron, these the tripod give,
From those the well-pair'd mules we shall receive,
Or bowl emboss'd whose golden figures live."

To whom the youth, for prudence fam'd, replied:

"O monarch, care of Heaven! thy people's pride! No friend in Ithaca my place supplies,

No powerful hands are there, no watchful eyes:
My stores expos'd and fenceless house demand
The speediest succour from my guardian hand;
Lest, in a search tóo anxious and too vain
Of one lost joy, I lose what yet remain.”

His purpose when the generous warrior heard, He charg❜d the household cates to be prepar'd. Now with the dawn fom his adjoining home, Was Boethodes Eteonus come;

Swift as the word he forms the rising blaze,
And o'er the coals the smoking fragments lays.
Meantime the king, his son, and Helen, went
Where the rich wardrobe breath'd a costly scent.
The king selected from the glittering rows
A bowl; the prince a silver beaker chose.
The beauteous queen revolv`d with careful eyes
Her various textures of annumber'd dyes,
And chose the largest; with no vulgar art
Her own fair hands embroider'd every part:
Beneath the rest it lay divinely bright,
Like radiant Hesper o'er the gems of night.
Then with each gift they hasten'd to their guest,
And thus the king Ulysses' heir address'd :
"Since fix'd are thy resolves, may thundering
With happiest omens thy desires approve! [Jove
This silver bowl, whose costly margins shine
Euchas'd with gold, this valued gift be thine;
To me this present of Vulcanian frame,
From Sidon's hospitable monarch eame;
To thee we now consign the precious load,
The pride of kings and labour of a god."

Then gave the cup; while Megapent he brought The silver vase with living sculpture wrought.

The beauteous queen, advancing next, display'd The shining veil, and thus endearing said:

"Accept, dear youth, this monument of love, Long since, in better days, by Helen wove: Safe in thy mother's care the vesture lay, To deck thy bride, and grace thy nuptial day. Meantime may'st thou with happiest speed regain Thy stately palace, and thy wide domain"

She said, and gave the veil; with grateful look
The prince the variegated present took.
And now, when through the royal dome they pass'd,
High on a throne the king each stranger plaed.
A golden ewer th' attendant damsel brings,
Replete with water from the crystal springs;
With copious streams the shining vase supplies
A silver laver of capacious size.

They wash. The tables in fair order spread,
The glittering cannisters are crown'd with bread,
Viands of various kinds allure the taste,
Of choicest sort and savour; rich repast!
Whilst Eteonus portions out the shares,
Atrides' son the purple draught prepares.
And now (each sated with the genial feast,
And the short rage of thirst and hunger ceas'd)
Ulysses' son, with his illustrious friend,
The horses join'd, the polish'd car ascend.
Along the court the fiery steeds rebound,
And the wide portal echoes to the sound.
The king precedes; a bowl with fragrant wine
(Libation destin'd to the powers divine)
His right-hand held: before the steeds he stands,
Then, mix'd with prayers, he utters these com.
mands:

Farewell, and prosper, youths! let Nestor know
What grateful thoughts still in this bosom glow,
For all the proofs of his paternal care,
Through the long dangers of the ten years' war."
"Ah! doubt not our report" (the prince rejoin'd)
"Of all the virtues of thy generous mind.
And oh! return'd might we Ulysses meet!
To him thy presents show, thy words repeat:
How will each specch his grateful wonder raise!
How will each gift indulge us in thy praise !"

Scarce ended thus the prince, when on the right Advanc'd the bird of Jove: auspicious sight! A milk-white fowl his clinching talons bore, With care domestic pamper'd at the floor. Peasants in vain with threatening cries pursue, In solemn speed the bird majestic flew Full dexter to the car: the prosperous sight Fill'd every breast with wonder and delight.

But Nestor's son the cheerful silence broke, And in these words the Spartan chief bespoke : Say, if to us the gods these omens send, Or fates peculiar to thyself portend?" [press'd, Whilst yet the monarch paus'd with doubts opThe beauteous queen reliev'd his labouring breast. "Hear me," she cried, "to whom the gods have

given

To read this sign, and mystic sense of Heaven.
As thus the plumy sovereign of the air
Left on the mountain's brow his callow care,
And wander'd through the wide ethereal way
To pour his wrath on yon luxurious prey;
So shall thy godlike father, toss'd in vain
Through all the dangers of the boundless main,
Arrive (or is, perchance, already come)
From slaughter'd gluttons to release the dome."

"Oh! if this promis'd bliss by thundering Jove" (The prince replied) "stand fix'd in fate above;

"Alas!" (Eumæus with a sigh rejoin'd). "How sprung a thought so monstrous in thy mind! If on that godless race thou would'st attend, Fate owes thee sure a miserable end!

Their wrongs and blasphemies ascend the sky, And pull descending vengeance from on high. Not such, my friend, the servants of their feast; A blooming train in rich embroidery drest, With Earth's whole tribute the bright table bends, And smiling round celestial youth attends. Stay then: no eye askance beholds thee here: Sweet is thy converse to each social ear; Well pleas'd, and pleasing, in our cottage rest, Till good Telemachus accepts his guest With genial gifts, and change of fair attires, And safe conveys thee where thy soul desires." To him the man of woes: "O gracious Jove! Reward this stranger's hospitable love! Who knows the son of sorrow to relieve, Cheers the sad heart, nor lets affliction grieve. Of all the ills unhappy mortals know, A life of wanderings is the greatest woe: On all their weary paths wait care and pain, And pine and penury, a meagre train. To such a man since harbour you afford, Relate the farther fortunes of your lord; What cares his mother's tender breast engage, And sire forsaken on the verge of age; Beneath the Sun prolong they yet their breath, Or range the house of darkness and of death?" To whom the swain: "Attend what you inquire; Laertes lives, the miserable sire Lives, but implores of every power to lay The burden down, and wishes for the day. Torn from his offspring in the eve of life, Torn from th' embraces of his tender wife, Sole, and all comfortless, he wastes away Old age, untimely posting ere his day. She too, sad mother! for Ulysses lost Pin'd out her bloom, and vanish'd to a ghost, (So dire a fate, ye righteous gods! avert, From every friendly, every feeling heart!) While yet she was, though clouded o'er with grief, Her pleasing converse minister'd relief: With Ctimene, her youngest daughter, bred, One roof contain'd us, and one table fed. But when the softly-stealing pace of time Crept on from childhood into youthful prime, To Samos' isle she sent the wedded fair; Me to the fields, to tend the rural care; Array'd in garments her own hands had wove, Nor less the darling object of her love. Her hapless death my brighter days o'ercast, Yet Providence deserts me not at last; My present labours food and drink procure, And more; the pleasure to relieve the poor, Small is the comfort from the queen to hear Unwelcome news, or vex the royal ear; Blank and discountenanc'd the servants stand, Nor dare to question where the proud command: No profit springs beneath usurping powers; Want feeds not there, where luxury devours, Nor harbours charity where riot reigns: Proud are the lords, and wretched are the swains." The suffering chief at this began to melt; And, "O Eumæus! thou" (he cries) "hast felt The spite of Fortune too! her cruel hand Snatch'd thee an infant from thy native land! Snatch'd from thy parents' arms, thy parents' eyes, To early wants! a man of miseries!

Thy whole sad story, from its first, declare:
Sunk the fair city by the rage of war,
Where once thy parents dwelt? or did they keep,
In humbler life, the lowing herds and sheep?
So left perhaps to tend the fleecy train,
Rude pirates seiz'd, and shipp'd thee o'er the main?
Doom'd a fair prize to grace some prince's board,
The worthy purchase of a foreign lord."

"If then my fortunes can delight my friend,
A story fruitful of events attend:
Another's sorrows may thy ear enjoy,
And wine the lengthen'd intervals employ.
Long nights the now declining year bestows;
A part we consecrate to soft repose,
A part in pleasing talk we entertain;
For too much rest itself becomes a pain.
Let those, whom sleep invites, the call obey,
Their cares resuming with the dawning day:
Here let us feast, and to the feast be juin'd
Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind;
Review the series of our lives, and taste
The melancholy joy of evils past:

For he who much has suffer'd, much will know;
And pleas'd remembrance builds delight on woe,
"Above Ortygia lies an isle of fame,
Far hence remote, and Syria is the name
(There curious eyes inscrib'd with wonder trace
The Sun's diurnal, and his annual race);
Not large, but fruitful; stor'd with grass, to keep
The bellowing oxen, and the bleating sheep;
Her sloping hills the mantling vines adorn,
And her rich valleys wave with golden corn.
No want, no famine, the glad natives know,
Nor sink by sickness to the shades below;
But when a length of years unnerves the strong,
Apollo comes, and Cynthia comes along.
They bend the silver bow with tender skill,
And, void of pain, the silent arrows kill.
Two equal tribes this fertile land divide,
Where two fair cities rise with equal pride.
But both in constant peace one prince obey,
And Ctesius there, my father, holds the swa
Freighted, it seems, with toys of every sort
A ship of Sidon anchor'd in our port;
What time it chanc'd the palace entertain'd,
Skill'd in rich works, a woman of their land:
This nymph, where anchor'd the Phoenician train
To wash her robes descending to the main,
A smooth-tongued sailor won her to his mind
(For love deceives the best of woman-kind).
A sudden trust from sudden liking grew;
She told her name, her race, and all she knew.
'I too' (she cried) from glorious Sidon came,
My father Arybas, of wealthy fame;
But, snatch'd by pirates from my native place,
The Taphians sold me to this man's embrace.'
"Haste then," (the false designing youth re-

ply'd)

'Haste to thy country; love shall be thy guide; Haste to thy father's house, thy father's breast, For still he lives, and lives with riches blest.'

"Swear first,' she cried, 'ye sailors! to restore A wretch in safety to her native shore.' Swift as she ask'd, the ready sailors swore. She then proceeds: 'Now let our compact made Be nor by signal nor by word betray'd, Nor near me any of your crew descried By road frequented, nor by fountain side. Be silence still our guard. The monarch's spies (For watchful age is ready to surmise)