AND Pallas now, to raise the rivals’ fires, | |
| With her own art Penelope inspires: | |
| Who now can bend Ulysses’ bow, and wing | |
| The well-aim’d arrow thro’ the distant ring, | |
| Shall end the strife, and win th’ imperial dame; | 5 |
| But discord and black death await the game! | |
| The prudent Queen the lofty stair ascends; | |
| At distance due a virgin-train attends: | |
| A brazen key she held, the handle turn’d, | |
| With steel and polish’d elephant adorn’d: | 10 |
| Swift to the inmost room she bent her way, | |
| Where, safe reposed, the royal treasures lay; | |
| There shone high heap’d the labour’d brass and ore, | |
| And there the bow which great Ulysses bore; | |
| And there the quiver, where now guiltless slept | 15 |
| Those winged deaths that many a matron wept. | |
| This gift, long since when Sparta’s shores he trod, | |
| On young Ulysses Iphitus bestow’d: | |
| Beneath Orsilochus’s roof they met; | |
| One loss was private, one a public debt; | 20 |
| Messena’s state from Ithaca detains | |
| Three hundred sheep, and all the shepherd swains; | |
| And to the youthful Prince to urge the laws, | |
| The King and elders trust their common cause. | |
| But Iphitus, employ’d on other cares, | 25 |
| Search’d the wide country for his wand’ring mares, | |
| And mules, the strongest of the lab’ring kind; | |
| Hapless to search! more hapless still to find! | |
| For journeying on to Hercules, at length | |
| That lawless wretch, that man of brutal strength, | 30 |
| Deaf to Heav’n’s voice, the social rite transgress’d; | |
| And for the beauteous mares destroy’d his guest. | |
| He gave the bow; and on Ulysses’ part | |
| Receiv’d a pointed sword, and missile dart: | |
| Of luckless friendship on a foreign shore | 35 |
| Their first, last pledges! for they met no more. | |
| The bow, bequeath’d by this unhappy hand, | |
| Ulysses bore not from his native land; | |
| Nor in the front of battle taught to bend, | |
| But kept in dear memorial of his friend. | 40 |
| Now, gently winding up the far ascent, | |
| By many an easy step, the matron went; | |
| Then o’er the pavement glides with grace divine | |
| (With polish’d oak the level pavements shine); | |
| The folding gates a dazzling light display’d, | 45 |
| With pomp of various architrave o’erlaid. | |
| The bolt, obedient to the silken string, | |
| Forsakes the staple as she pulls the ring; | |
| The wards respondent to the key turn round; | |
| The bars fall back; the flying valves resound; | 50 |
| Loud as a bull makes hill and valley ring, | |
| So roar’d the lock when it releas’d the spring. | |
| She moves majestic thro’ the wealthy room, | |
| Where treasured garments cast a rich perfume; | |
| There from the column, where aloft it hung, | 55 |
| Reach’d, in its splendid case, the bow unstrung; | |
| Across her knees she laid the well-known bow, | |
| And pensive sate, and tears began to flow. | |
| To full satiety of grief she mourns, | |
| Then silent to the joyous hall returns; | 60 |
| To the proud suitors bears in pensive state | |
| Th’ unbended bow, and arrows wing’d with fate. | |
| Behind, her train the polish’d coffer brings, | |
| Which held th’ alternate brass and silver rings. | |
| Full in the portal the chaste Queen appears, | 65 |
| And with her veil conceals the coming tears: | |
| On either side awaits a virgin fair; | |
| While thus the matron, with majestic air: | |
| ‘Say you, whom these forbidden walls inclose, | |
| For whom my victims bleed, my vintage flows, | 70 |
| If these neglected, faded charms can move? | |
| Or is it but a vain pretence you love? | |
| If I the prize, if me you seek to wife, | |
| Hear the conditions, and commence the strife. | |
| Who first Ulysses’ wondrous bow shall bend, | 75 |
| And thro’ twelve ringlets the fleet arrow send, | |
| Him will I follow, and forsake my home, | |
| For him forsake this lov’d, this wealthy dome, | |
| Long, long the scene of all my past delight, | |
| And still to last the vision of my night!’ | 80 |
| Graceful she said, and bade Eumæus show | |
| The rival Peers the ringlets and the bow. | |
| From his full eyes the tears unbidden spring, | |
| Touch’d at the dear memorials of his King. | |
| Philætius too relents, but secret shed | 85 |
| The tender drops. Antinoüs saw, and said: | |
| ‘Hence to your fields, ye Rustics! hence away, | |
| Nor stain with grief the pleasures of the day: | |
| Nor to the royal heart recall in vain | |
| The sad remembrance of a perish’d man. | 90 |
| Enough her precious tears already flow: | |
| Or share the feast with due respect, or go | |
| To weep abroad, and leave to us the bow: | |
| No vulgar task! Ill suits this courtly crew | |
| That stubborn horn which brave Ulysses drew. | 95 |
| I well remember (for I gazed him o’er | |
| While yet a child), what majesty he bore! | |
| And still (all infant as I was) retain | |
| The port, the strength, the grandeur of the man.’ | |
| He said, but in his soul fond joys arise, | 100 |
| And his proud hopes already win the prize | |
| To speed the flying shaft thro’ ev’ry ring, | |
| Wretch! is not thine: the arrows of the King | |
| Shall end those hopes, and fate is on the wing! | |
| Then thus Telemachus: ‘Some God I find | 105 |
| With pleasing frenzy has possess’d my mind; | |
| When a lov’d mother threatens to depart, | |
| Why with this ill-timed gladness leaps my heart? | |
| Come then, ye suitors! and dispute a prize | |
| Richer than all th’ Achaian state supplies, | 110 |
| Than all proud Argos or Mycæne knows, | |
| Than all our isles or continents inclose: | |
| A woman matchless, and almost divine, | |
| Fit for the praise of ev’ry tongue but mine. | |
| No more excuses then, no more delay; | 115 |
| Haste to the trial—Lo! I lead the way. | |
| ‘I too may try, and if this arm can wing | |
| The feather’d arrow thro’ the destin’d ring, | |
| Then, if no happier knight the conquest boast, | |
| I shall not sorrow for a mother lost; | 120 |
| But, bless’d in her, possess these arms alone, | |
| Heir of my father’s strength, as well as throne.’ | |
| He spoke; then, rising, his broad sword unbound, | |
| And cast his purple garment on the ground. | |
| A trench he open’d; in a line he placed | 125 |
| The level axes, and the points made fast. | |
| (His perfect skill the wond’ring gazers eyed, | |
| The game as yet unseen, as yet untried.) | |
| Then, with a manly pace, he took his stand, | |
| And grasp’d the bow, and twang’d it in his hand. | 130 |
| Three times, with beating heart, he made essay; | |
| Three times, unequal to the task, gave way; | |
| A modest boldness on his cheek appear’d; | |
| And thrice he hoped, and thrice again he fear’d. | |
| The fourth had drawn it. The great Sire with joy | 135 |
| Beheld, but with a sign forbade the boy. | |
| His ardour straight th’ obedient Prince suppress’d, | |
| And, artful, thus the suitor-train address’d: | |
| ‘O lay the cause on youth yet immature | |
| (For Heav’n forbid such weakness should endure)! | 140 |
| How shall this arm, unequal to the bow, | |
| Retort an insult, or repel a foe? | |
| But you! whom Heav’n with better nerves has bless’d, | |
| Accept the trial, and the prize contest.’ | |
| He cast the bow before him, and apart | 145 |
| Against the polish’d quiver propp’d the dart. | |
| Resuming then his seat, Eupithes’ son, | |
| The bold Antinoüs, to the rest begun: | |
| ‘From where the goblet first begins to flow, | |
| From right to left in order take the bow; | 150 |
| And prove your sev’ral strengths.’—The Princes heard, | |
| And first Leiodes, blameless priest, appear’d: | |
| The eldest born of Œnops’ noble race, | |
| Who next the goblet held his holy place; | |
| He, only he, of all the suitor throng, | 155 |
| Their deeds detested, and abjured the wrong. | |
| With tender hands the stubborn horn he strains, | |
| The stubborn horn resisted all his pains! | |
| Already in despair he gives it o’er: | |
| ‘Take it who will’ (he cries), ‘I strive no more. | 160 |
| What numerous deaths attend this fatal bow! | |
| What souls and spirits shall it send below! | |
| Better, indeed, to die, and fairly give | |
| Nature her debt, than disappointed live, | |
| With each new sun to some new hope a prey, | 165 |
| Yet still to-morrow falser than to-day. | |
| How long in vain Penelope we sought! | |
| This bow shall ease us of that idle thought, | |
| And send us with some humbler wife to live, | |
| Whom gold shall gain, or destiny shall give.’ | 170 |
| Thus speaking, on the floor the bow he placed | |
| (With rich inlay the various floor was graced); | |
| At distance far the feather’d shaft he throws, | |
| And to the seat returns from whence he rose. | |
| To him Antinoüs thus with fury said: | 175 |
| ‘What words ill-omen’d from thy lips have fled? | |
| Thy coward-function ever is in fear; | |
| Those arms are dreadful which thou canst not bear. | |
| Why should this bow be fatal to the brave, | |
| Because the priest is born a peaceful slave? | 180 |
| Mark then what others can.’ He ended there, | |
| And bade Melanthius a vast pile prepare; | |
| He gives it instant flame, then fast beside | |
| Spreads o’er an ample board a bullock’s hide. | |
| With melted lard they soak the weapon o’er, | 185 |
| Chafe ev’ry knot, and supple ev’ry pore. | |
| Vain all their art, and all their strength as vain: | |
| The bow inflexible resists their pain. | |
| The force of great Eurymachus alone, | |
| And bold Antinoüs, yet untried, unknown, | 190 |
| Those only now remain’d; but those confess’d | |
| Of all the train the mightiest and the best. | |
| Then from the hall, and from the noisy crew, | |
| The masters of the herd and flock withdrew. | |
| The King observes them; he the hall forsakes, | 195 |
| And past the limits of the court o’ertakes. | |
| Then thus with accent mild Ulysses spoke: | |
| ‘Ye faithful guardians of the herd and flock! | |
| Shall I the secret of my breast conceal, | |
| Or (as my soul now dictates) shall I tell? | 200 |
| Say, should some fav’ring God restore again | |
| The lost Ulysses to his native reign, | |
| How beat your hearts? what aid would you afford | |
| To the proud suitors, or your ancient lord?’ | |
| Philætius thus: ‘O were thy word not vain! | 205 |
| Would mighty Jove restore that man again! | |
| These aged sinews, with new vigour strung, | |
| In his blest cause should emulate the young.’ | |
| With equal vows Eumæus too implor’d | |
| Each power above, with wishes for his lord. | 210 |
| He saw their secret souls, and thus began: | |
| ‘Those vows the Gods accord; behold the man! | |
| Your own Ulysses! twice ten years detain’d | |
| By woes and wand’rings from this hapless land: | |
| At length he comes; but comes despised, unknown, | 215 |
| And finding faithful you, and you alone. | |
| All else have cast him from their very thought, | |
| Ev’n in their wishes and their prayers forgot! | |
| Hear then, my friends: If Jove this arm succeed, | |
| And give yon impious revellers to bleed, | 220 |
| My care shall be to bless your future lives | |
| With large possessions and with faithful wives: | |
| Fast by my palace shall your domes ascend, | |
| And each on young Telemachus attend, | |
| And each be call’d his brother and my friend. | 225 |
| To give you firmer faith, now trust your eye; | |
| Lo! the broad scar indented on my thigh, | |
| When with Autolycus’s sons, of yore, | |
| On Parnass’ top I chased the tusky boar.’ | |
| His ragged vest then drawn aside, disclosed | 230 |
| The sign conspicuous, and the scar exposed; | |
| Eager they view’d; with joy they stood amazed; | |
| With tearful eyes o’er all their master gazed: | |
| Around his neck their longing arms they cast, | |
| His head, his shoulders, and his knees embraced; | 235 |
| Tears follow’d tears; no word was in their power; | |
| In solemn silence fell the kindly shower. | |
| The King too weeps, the King too grasps their hands, | |
| And moveless, as a marble fountain, stands. | |
| Thus had their joy wept down the setting sun, | 240 |
| But first the wise man ceas’d, and thus begun: | |
| ‘Enough—on other cares your thought employ, | |
| For danger waits on all untimely joy. | |
| Full many foes, and fierce, observe us near; | |
| Some may betray, and yonder walls may hear. | 245 |
| Re-enter then, not all at once, but stay | |
| Some moments you, and let me lead the way. | |
| To me, neglected as I am, I know | |
| The haughty suitors will deny the bow; | |
| But thou, Eumæus, as ’t is borne away, | 250 |
| Thy master’s weapon to his hand convey. | |
| At ev’ry portal let some matron wait, | |
| And each lock fast the well-compacted gate: | |
| Close let them keep, whate’er invades their ear; | |
| Tho’ arms, or shouts, or dying groans they hear. | 255 |
| To thy strict charge, Philætius, we consign | |
| The court’s main gate; to guard that pass be thine.’ | |
| This said, he first return’d; the faithful swains | |
| At distance follow, as their King ordains. | |
| Before the flame Eurymachus now stands, | 260 |
| And turns the bow, and chafes it with his hands; | |
| Still the tough bow unmov’d. The lofty man | |
| Sigh’d from his mighty soul, and thus began: | |
| ‘I mourn the common cause: for, oh my friends! | |
| On me, on all, what grief, what shame attends! | 265 |
| Not the lost nuptials can affect me more | |
| (For Greece has beauteous dames on ev’ry shore), | |
| But baffled thus! confess’d so far below | |
| Ulysses’ strength, as not to bend his bow! | |
| How shall all ages our attempt deride! | 270 |
| Our weakness scorn!’ Antinoüs thus replied: | |
| ‘Not so, Eurymachus: that no man draws | |
| The wondrous bow, attend another cause. | |
| Sacred to Phœbus is the solemn day, | |
| Which thoughtless we in games would waste away; | 275 |
| Till the next dawn this ill-timed strife forego, | |
| And here leave fix’d the ringlets in a row. | |
| Now bid the sewer approach, then let us join | |
| In due libations, and in rites divine; | |
| So end our night; before the day shall spring, | 280 |
| The choicest off’rings let Melanthius bring; | |
| Let then to Phœbus’ name the fatted thighs | |
| Feed the rich smokes, high curling to the skies. | |
| So shall the patron of these arts bestow | |
| (For his the gift) the skill to bend the bow.’ | 285 |
| They heard well pleas’d; the ready heralds bring | |
| The cleansing waters from the limpid spring; | |
| The goblet high with rosy wine they crown’d, | |
| In order circling to the peers around, | |
| That rite complete, uprose the thoughtful man, | 290 |
| And thus his meditated scheme began; | |
| ‘If what I ask your noble minds approve, | |
| Ye Peers and Rivals in the royal love! | |
| Chief, if it hurt not great Antinoüs’ ear | |
| (Whose sage decision I with wonder hear), | 295 |
| And if Eurymachus the motion please, | |
| Give Heav’n this day, and rest the bow in peace. | |
| To-morrow let your arms dispute the prize, | |
| And take it he, the favour’d of the skies! | |
| But, since till then this trial you delay, | 300 |
| Trust it one moment to my hands to-day: | |
| Fain would I prove, before your judging eyes, | |
| What once I was, whom wretched you despise; | |
| If yet this arm its ancient force retain; | |
| Or if my woes (a long-continued train) | 305 |
| And wants and insults, make me less than man.’ | |
| Rage flash’d in lightning from the suitors’ eyes, | |
| Yet mix’d with terror at the bold emprise. | |
| Antinoüs then: ‘O miserable guest! | |
| Is common sense quite banish’d from thy breast? | 310 |
| Sufficed it not, within the palace placed, | |
| To sit distinguish’d, with our presence graced, | |
| Admitted here with Princes to confer, | |
| A man unknown, a needy wanderer? | |
| To copious wine this insolence we owe, | 315 |
| And much thy betters wine can overthrow: | |
| The great Eurytion when this frenzy stung, | |
| Pirithoüs’ roofs with frantic riot rung; | |
| Boundless the Centaur raged; till one and all | |
| The heroes rose, and dragg’d him from the hall: | 320 |
| His nose they shorten’d, and his ears they slit, | |
| And sent him sober’d home, with better wit. | |
| Hence with long war the double race was curs’d | |
| Fatal to all, but to th’ aggressor first. | |
| Such fate I prophesy our guest attends, | 325 |
| If here this interdicted bow he bends: | |
| Nor shall these walls such insolence contain; | |
| The first fair wind transports him o’er the main; | |
| Where Echetus to death the guilty brings | |
| (The worst of mortals, ev’n the worst of Kings). | 330 |
| Better than that, if thou approve our cheer, | |
| Cease the mad strife, and share our bounty here.’ | |
| To this the Queen her just dislike express’d: | |
| ‘’T is impious, Prince, to harm the stranger-guest; | |
| Base to insult who bears a suppliant’s name, | 335 |
| And some respect Telemachus may claim. | |
| What if th’ Immortals on the man bestow | |
| Sufficient strength to draw the mighty bow? | |
| Shall I, a Queen, by rival chiefs ador’d, | |
| Accept a wand’ring stranger for my lord? | 340 |
| A hope so idle never touch’d his brain: | |
| Then ease your bosom of a fear so vain. | |
| Far be he banish’d from this stately scene | |
| Who wrongs his Princess with a thought so mean.’ | |
| ‘O Fair! and wisest of so fair a kind!’ | 345 |
| (Respectful thus Eurymachus rejoin’d) | |
| ‘Mov’d by no weak surmise, but sense of shame, | |
| We dread the all-arraigning voice of Fame: | |
| We dread the censure of the meanest slave, | |
| The weakest woman: all can wrong the brave. | 350 |
| “Behold what wretches to the bed pretend | |
| Of that brave Chief, whose bow they could not bend! | |
| In came a beggar of the strolling crew, | |
| And did what all those Princes could not do.” | |
| Thus will the common voice our deed defame, | 355 |
| And thus posterity upbraid our name.’ | |
| To whom the Queen: ‘If Fame engage your views, | |
| Forbear those acts which Infamy pursues; | |
| Wrong and oppression no renown can raise; | |
| Know, Friend! that virtue is the path to praise. | 360 |
| The stature of our guest, his port, his face, | |
| Speak him descended from no vulgar race. | |
| To him the bow, as he desires, convey; | |
| And to his hand if Phœbus give the day, | |
| Hence, to reward his merit, he shall bear | 365 |
| A two-edg’d faulchion and a shining spear, | |
| Embroider’d sandals, a rich cloak and vest, | |
| And safe conveyance to his port of rest.’ | |
| ‘O royal Mother! ever-honour’d name! | |
| Permit me’ (cries Telemachus) ‘to claim | 370 |
| A son’s just right. No Grecian Prince but I | |
| Has power this bow to grant, or to deny! | |
| Of all that Ithaca’s rough hills contain, | |
| And all wide Elis’ courser-breeding plain, | |
| To me alone my father’s arms descend; | 375 |
| And mine alone they are, to give or lend. | |
| Retire, O Queen! thy household task resume, | |
| Tend, with thy maids, the labours of thy loom; | |
| The bow, the darts, and arms of chivalry, | |
| These cares to man belong, and most to me.’ | 380 |
| Mature beyond his years, the Queen admired | |
| His sage reply, and with her train retired; | |
| There in her chamber as she sate apart, | |
| Revolv’d his words, and placed them in her heart. | |
| On her Ulysses then she fix’d her soul; | 385 |
| Down her fair cheek the tears abundant roll, | |
| Till gentle Pallas, piteous of her cries, | |
| In slumber closed her silver-streaming eyes. | |
| Now thro’ the press the bow Eumæus bore, | |
| And all was riot, noise, and wild uproar. | 390 |
| ‘Hold! lawless rustic! whither wilt thou go? | |
| To whom, insensate, dost thou bear the bow? | |
| Exil’d for this to some sequester’d den, | |
| Far from the sweet society of men, | |
| To thy own dogs a prey thou shalt be made; | 395 |
| If Heav’n and Phœbus lend the suitors aid.’ | |
| Thus they. Aghast he laid the weapon down, | |
| But bold Telemachus thus urged him on: | |
| ‘Proceed, false slave, and slight their empty words; | |
| What! hopes the fool to please so many lords? | 400 |
| Young as I am, thy Prince’s vengeful hand | |
| Stretch’d forth in wrath shall drive thee from the land. | |
| Oh! could the vigour of this arm as well | |
| Th’ oppressive suitors from my walls expel! | |
| Then what a shoal of lawless men should go | 405 |
| To fill with tumult the dark courts below!’ | |
| The suitors with a scornful smile survey | |
| The youth, indulging in the genial day. | |
| Eumæus, thus encouraged, hastes to bring | |
| The strifeful bow, and gives it to the King. | 410 |
| Old Euryclea calling then aside, | |
| ‘Hear what Telemachus enjoins’ (he cried): | |
| ‘At ev’ry portal let some matron wait, | |
| And each lock fast the well-compacted gate; | |
| And if unusual sounds invade their ear, | 415 |
| If arms, or shouts, or dying groans they hear, | |
| Let none to call or issue forth presume, | |
| But close attend the labours of the loom.’ | |
| Her prompt obedience on his order waits; | |
| Closed in an instant were the palace gates. | 420 |
| In the same moment forth Philætius flies, | |
| Secures the court, and with a cable ties | |
| The utmost gate (the cable strongly wrought | |
| Of Byblos’ reed, a ship from Egypt brought); | |
| Then unperceiv’d and silent at the board | 425 |
| His seat he takes, his eyes upon his lord. | |
| And now his well-known bow the Master bore, | |
| Turn’d on all sides, and view’d it o’er and o’er; | |
| Lest time or worms had done the weapon wrong, | |
| Its owner absent, and untried so long. | 430 |
| While some deriding: ‘How he turns the bow! | |
| Some other like it sure the man must know, | |
| Or else would copy; or in bows he deals; | |
| Perhaps he makes them, or perhaps he steals.’— | |
| ‘Heav’n to this wretch’ (another cried) ‘be kind! | 435 |
| And bless, in all to which he stands inclin’d, | |
| With such good fortune as he now shall find.’ | |
| Heedless he heard them: but disdain’d reply, | |
| The bow perusing with exactest eye. | |
| Then, as some heav’nly minstrel, taught to sing | 440 |
| High notes responsive to the trembling string, | |
| To some new strain when he adapts the lyre, | |
| Or the dumb lute refits with vocal wire, | |
| Relaxes, strains, and draws them to and fro; | |
| So the great master drew the mighty bow: | 445 |
| And drew with ease. One hand aloft display’d | |
| The bending horns, and one the string essay’d. | |
| From his essaying hand the string let fly | |
| Twang’d short and sharp like the shrill swallow’s cry. | |
| A gen’ral horror ran thro’ all the race, | 450 |
| Sunk was each heart, and pale was ev’ry face. | |
| Signs from above ensued: th’ unfolding sky | |
| In lightning burst; Jove thunder’d from on high. | |
| Fired at the call of Heav’n’s almighty Lord, | |
| He snatch’d the shaft that glitter’d on the board | 455 |
| (Fast by, the rest lay sleeping in the sheath, | |
| But soon to fly, the messengers of Death). | |
| Now, sitting as he was, the cord he drew, | |
| Thro’ every ringlet levelling his view; | |
| Then notch’d the shaft, releas’d, and gave it wing; | 460 |
| The whizzing arrow vanish’d from the string, | |
| Sung on direct, and threaded ev’ry ring. | |
| The solid gate its fury scarcely bounds; | |
| Pierc’d thro’ and thro’, the solid gate resounds. | |
| Then to the Prince: ‘Nor have I wrought thee shame; | 465 |
| Nor err’d this hand unfaithful to its aim; | |
| Nor prov’d the toil too hard; nor have I lost | |
| That ancient vigour once my pride and boast. | |
| Ill I deserv’d these haughty Peers’ disdain; | |
| Now let them comfort their dejected train, | 470 |
| In sweet repast their present hour employ | |
| Nor wait till ev’ning for the genial joy: | |
| Then to the lute’s soft voice prolong the night; | |
| Music, the banquet’s most refin’d delight.’ | |
| He said, then gave a nod; and at the word | 475 |
| Telemachus girds on his shining sword. | |
| Fast by his father’s side he takes his stand: | |
| The beamy jav’lin lightens in his hand. | |
| |
