Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

  Squatted, and let his staff fall from his hand.

  Yet foul indignity he had endured

  Ev'n there, at his own farm, but that the swain, 40

  Following his dogs in haste, sprang through the porch

  To his assistance, letting fall the hide.

  With chiding voice and vollied stones he soon

  Drove them apart, and thus his Lord bespake.

  Old man! one moment more, and these my dogs

  Had, past doubt, worried thee, who should'st have proved,

  So slain, a source of obloquy to me.

  But other pangs the Gods, and other woes

  To me have giv'n, who here lamenting sit

  My godlike master, and his fatted swine 50

  Nourish for others' use, while he, perchance,

  A wand'rer in some foreign city, seeks

  Fit sustenance, and none obtains, if still

  Indeed he live, and view the light of day.

  But, old friend! follow me into the house,

  That thou, at least, with plenteous food refresh'd,

  And cheer'd with wine sufficient, may'st disclose

  Both who thou art, and all that thou hast borne.

  So saying, the gen'rous swine-herd introduced

  Ulysses, and thick bundles spread of twigs 60

  Beneath him, cover'd with the shaggy skin

  Of a wild goat, of which he made his couch

  Easy and large; the Hero, so received,

  Rejoiced, and thus his gratitude express'd.

  Jove grant thee and the Gods above, my host,

  For such beneficence thy chief desire!

  To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

  My guest! I should offend, treating with scorn

  The stranger, though a poorer should arrive

  Than ev'n thyself; for all the poor that are, 70

  And all the strangers are the care of Jove.

  Little, and with good will, is all that lies

  Within my scope; no man can much expect

  From servants living in continual fear

  Under young masters; for the Gods, no doubt,

  Have intercepted my own Lord's return,

  From whom great kindness I had, else, received,

  With such a recompense as servants gain

  From gen'rous masters, house and competence,

  And lovely wife from many a wooer won, 80

  Whose industry should have requited well

  His goodness, with such blessing from the Gods

  As now attends me in my present charge.

  Much had I, therefore, prosper'd, had my Lord

  Grown old at home; but he hath died--I would

  That the whole house of Helen, one and all,

  Might perish too, for she hath many slain

  Who, like my master, went glory to win

  For Agamemnon in the fields of Troy.

  So saying, he girdled, quick, his tunic close, 90

  And, issuing, sought the styes; thence bringing two

  Of the imprison'd herd, he slaughter'd both,

  Singed them, and slash'd and spitted them, and placed

  The whole well-roasted banquet, spits and all,

  Reeking before Ulysses; last, with flour

  He sprinkled them, and filling with rich wine

  His ivy goblet, to his master sat

  Opposite, whom inviting thus he said.

  Now, eat, my guest! such as a servant may

  I set before thee, neither large of growth 100

  Nor fat; the fatted--those the suitors eat,

  Fearless of heav'n, and pitiless of man.

  Yet deeds unjust as theirs the blessed Gods

  Love not; they honour equity and right.

  Even an hostile band when they invade

  A foreign shore, which by consent of Jove

  They plunder, and with laden ships depart,

  Even they with terrours quake of wrath divine.

  But these are wiser; these must sure have learn'd

  From some true oracle my master's death, 110

  Who neither deign with decency to woo,

  Nor yet to seek their homes, but boldly waste

  His substance, shameless, now, and sparing nought.

  Jove ne'er hath giv'n us yet the night or day

  When with a single victim, or with two

  They would content them, and his empty jars

  Witness how fast the squand'rers use his wine.

  Time was, when he was rich indeed; such wealth

  No Hero own'd on yonder continent,

  Nor yet in Ithaca; no twenty Chiefs 120

  Could match with all their treasures his alone;

  I tell thee their amount. Twelve herds of his

  The mainland graze; as many flocks of sheep;

  As many droves of swine; and hirelings there

  And servants of his own seed for his use,

  As many num'rous flocks of goats; his goats,

  (Not fewer than eleven num'rous flocks)

  Here also graze the margin of his fields

  Under the eye of servants well-approved,

  And ev'ry servant, ev'ry day, brings home 130

  The goat, of all his flock largest and best.

  But as for me, I have these swine in charge,

  Of which, selected with exactest care

  From all the herd, I send the prime to them.

  He ceas'd, meantime Ulysses ate and drank

  Voracious, meditating, mute, the death

  Of those proud suitors. His repast, at length,

  Concluded, and his appetite sufficed,

  Eumæus gave him, charged with wine, the cup

  From which he drank himself; he, glad, received 140

  The boon, and in wing'd accents thus began.

  My friend, and who was he, wealthy and brave

  As thou describ'st the Chief, who purchased thee?

  Thou say'st he perish'd for the glory-sake

  Of Agamemnon. Name him; I, perchance,

  May have beheld the Hero. None can say

  But Jove and the inhabitants of heav'n

  That I ne'er saw him, and may not impart

  News of him; I have roam'd through many a clime.

  To whom the noble swine-herd thus replied. 150

  Alas, old man! no trav'ler's tale of him

  Will gain his consort's credence, or his son's;

  For wand'rers, wanting entertainment, forge

  Falsehoods for bread, and wilfully deceive.

  No wand'rer lands in Ithaca, but he seeks

  With feign'd intelligence my mistress' ear;

  She welcomes all, and while she questions each

  Minutely, from her lids lets fall the tear

  Affectionate, as well beseems a wife

  Whose mate hath perish'd in a distant land. 160

  Thou could'st thyself, no doubt, my hoary friend!

  (Would any furnish thee with decent vest

  And mantle) fabricate a tale with ease;

  Yet sure it is that dogs and fowls, long since,

  His skin have stript, or fishes of the Deep

  Have eaten him, and on some distant shore

  Whelm'd in deep sands his mould'ring bones are laid.

  So hath he perish'd; whence, to all his friends,

  But chiefly to myself, sorrow of heart;

  For such another Lord, gentle as he, 170

  Wherever sought, I have no hope to find,

  Though I should wander even to the house

  Of my own father. Neither yearns my heart

  So feelingly (though that desiring too)

  To see once more my parents and my home,

  As to behold Ulysses yet again.

  Ah stranger; absent as he is, his name

  Fills me with rev'rence, for he lov'd me much,

  Cared for me much, and, though we meet no more,

  Holds still an elder brother's part in me. 180

  Hi
m answer'd, then, the Hero toil-inured.

  My friend! since his return, in thy account,

  Is an event impossible, and thy mind

  Always incredulous that hope rejects,

  I shall not slightly speak, but with an oath--

  Ulysses comes again; and I demand

  No more, than that the boon such news deserves,

  Be giv'n me soon as he shall reach his home.

  Then give me vest and mantle fit to wear,

  Which, ere that hour, much as I need them both, 190

  I neither ask, nor will accept from thee.

  For him whom poverty can force aside

  From truth--I hate him as the gates of hell.

  Be Jove, of all in heav'n, my witness first,

  Then, this thy hospitable board, and, last,

  The household Gods of the illustrious Chief

  Himself, Ulysses, to whose gates I go,

  That all my words shall surely be fulfill'd.

  In this same year Ulysses shall arrive,

  Ere, this month closed, another month succeed, 200

  He shall return, and punish all who dare

  Insult his consort and his noble son.

  To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

  Old friend! that boon thou wilt ne'er earn from me;

  Ulysses comes no more. But thou thy wine

  Drink quietly, and let us find, at length,

  Some other theme; recall not this again

  To my remembrance, for my soul is grieved

  Oft as reminded of my honour'd Lord.

  Let the oath rest, and let Ulysses come 210

  Ev'n as myself, and as Penelope,

  And as his ancient father, and his son

  Godlike Telemachus, all wish he may.

  Ay--there I feel again--nor cease to mourn

  His son Telemachus; who, when the Gods

  Had giv'n him growth like a young plant, and I

  Well hoped that nought inferior he should prove

  In person or in mind to his own sire,

  Hath lost, through influence human or divine,

  I know not how, his sober intellect, 220

  And after tidings of his sire is gone

  To far-famed Pylus; his return, meantime,

  In ambush hidden the proud suitors wait,

  That the whole house may perish of renown'd

  Arcesias, named in Ithaca no more.

  But whether he have fallen or 'scaped, let him

  Rest also, whom Saturnian Jove protect!

  But come, my ancient guest! now let me learn

  Thy own afflictions; answer me in truth.

  Who, and whence art thou? in what city born? 230

  Where dwell thy parents; in what kind of ship

  Cam'st thou? the mariners, why brought they thee

  To Ithaca? and of what land are they?

  For, that on foot thou found'st us not, is sure.

  Him answer'd, then, Ulysses, ever-wise.

  I will with truth resolve thee; and if here

  Within thy cottage sitting, we had wine

  And food for many a day, and business none

  But to regale at ease while others toiled,

  I could exhaust the year complete, my woes 240

  Rehearsing, nor, at last, rehearse entire

  My sorrows by the will of heav'n sustained.

  I boast me sprung from ancestry renown'd

  In spacious Crete; son of a wealthy sire,

  Who other sons train'd num'rous in his house,

  Born of his wedded wife; but he begat

  Me on his purchased concubine, whom yet

  Dear as his other sons in wedlock born

  Castor Hylacides esteem'd and lov'd,

  For him I boast my father. Him in Crete, 250

  While yet he liv'd, all reverenc'd as a God,

  So rich, so prosp'rous, and so blest was he

  With sons of highest praise. But death, the doom

  Of all, him bore to Pluto's drear abode,

  And his illustrious sons among themselves

  Portion'd his goods by lot; to me, indeed,

  They gave a dwelling, and but little more,

  Yet, for my virtuous qualities, I won

  A wealthy bride, for I was neither vain

  Nor base, forlorn as thou perceiv'st me now. 260

  But thou canst guess, I judge, viewing the straw

  What once was in the ear. Ah! I have borne

  Much tribulation; heap'd and heavy woes.

  Courage and phalanx-breaking might had I

  From Mars and Pallas; at what time I drew,

  (Planning some dread exploit) an ambush forth

  Of our most valiant Chiefs, no boding fears

  Of death seized _me_, but foremost far of all

  I sprang to fight, and pierced the flying foe.

  Such was I once in arms. But household toils 270

  Sustain'd for children's sake, and carking cares

  T' enrich a family, were not for me.

  My pleasures were the gallant bark, the din

  Of battle, the smooth spear and glitt'ring shaft,

  Objects of dread to others, but which me

  The Gods disposed to love and to enjoy.

  Thus diff'rent minds are diff'rently amused;

  For ere Achaia's fleet had sailed to Troy,

  Nine times was I commander of an host

  Embark'd against a foreign foe, and found 280

  In all those enterprizes great success.

  From the whole booty, first, what pleased me most

  Chusing, and sharing also much by lot

  I rapidly grew rich, and had thenceforth

  Among the Cretans rev'rence and respect.

  But when loud-thund'ring Jove that voyage dire

  Ordain'd, which loos'd the knees of many a Greek,

  Then, to Idomeneus and me they gave

  The charge of all their fleet, which how to avoid

  We found not, so importunate the cry 290

  Of the whole host impell'd us to the task.

  There fought we nine long years, and in the tenth

  (Priam's proud city pillag'd) steer'd again

  Our galleys homeward, which the Gods dispersed.

  Then was it that deep-planning Jove devised

  For me much evil. One short month, no more,

  I gave to joys domestic, in my wife

  Happy, and in my babes, and in my wealth,

  When the desire seiz'd me with sev'ral ships

  Well-rigg'd, and furnish'd all with gallant crews, 300

  To sail for Ægypt; nine I fitted forth,

  To which stout mariners assembled fast.

  Six days the chosen partners of my voyage

  Feasted, to whom I num'rous victims gave

  For sacrifice, and for their own regale.

  Embarking on the sev'nth from spacious Crete,

  Before a clear breeze prosp'rous from the North

  We glided easily along, as down

  A river's stream; nor one of all my ships

  Damage incurr'd, but healthy and at ease 310

  We sat, while gales well-managed urged us on.

  The fifth day thence, smooth-flowing Nile we reach'd,

  And safe I moor'd in the Ægyptian stream.

  Then, charging all my mariners to keep

  Strict watch for preservation of the ships,

  I order'd spies into the hill-tops; but they

  Under the impulse of a spirit rash

  And hot for quarrel, the well-cultur'd fields

  Pillaged of the Ægyptians, captive led

  Their wives and little ones, and slew the men. 320

  Soon was the city alarm'd, and at the cry

  Down came the citizens, by dawn of day,

  With horse and foot, and with the gleam of arms

  Filling the plain. Then Jove with panic dread

  Struck all my people; none found courage more

&nbs
p; To stand, for mischiefs swarm'd on ev'ry side.

  There, num'rous by the glittering spear we fell

  Slaughter'd, while others they conducted thence

  Alive to servitude. But Jove himself

  My bosom with this thought inspired, (I would 330

  That, dying, I had first fulfill'd my fate

  In Ægypt, for new woes were yet to come!)

  Loosing my brazen casque, and slipping off

  My buckler, there I left them on the field,

  Then cast my spear away, and seeking, next,

  The chariot of the sov'reign, clasp'd his knees,

  And kiss'd them. He, by my submission moved,

  Deliver'd me, and to his chariot-seat

  Raising, convey'd me weeping to his home.

  With many an ashen spear his warriors sought 340

  To slay me, (for they now grew fiery wroth)

  But he, through fear of hospitable Jove,

  Chief punisher of wrong, saved me alive.

  Sev'n years I there abode, and much amass'd

  Among the Ægyptians, gifted by them all;

  But, in the eighth revolving year, arrived

  A shrewd Phœnician, in all fraud adept,

  Hungry, and who had num'rous harm'd before,

  By whom I also was cajoled, and lured

  T' attend him to Phœnicia, where his house 350

  And his possessions lay; there I abode

  A year complete his inmate; but (the days

  And months accomplish'd of the rolling year,

  And the new seasons ent'ring on their course)

  To Lybia then, on board his bark, by wiles

  He won me with him, partner of the freight

  Profess'd, but destin'd secretly to sale,

  That he might profit largely by my price.

  Not unsuspicious, yet constrain'd to go,

  With this man I embark'd. A cloudless gale 360

  Propitious blowing from the North, our ship

  Ran right before it through the middle sea,

  In the offing over Crete; but adverse Jove

  Destruction plann'd for them and death the while.

  For, Crete now left afar, and other land

  Appearing none, but sky alone and sea,

  Right o'er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove

  A cloud cærulean hung, dark'ning the Deep.

  Then, thund'ring oft, he hurl'd into the bark

  His bolts; she smitten by the fires of Jove, 370

  Quaked all her length; with sulphur fill'd she reek'd,

  And, o'er her sides precipitated, plunged

  Like gulls the crew, forbidden by that stroke

  Of wrath divine to hope their country more.

  But Jove himself, when I had cast away

  All hope of life, conducted to my arms

  The strong tall mast, that I might yet escape.

  Around that beam I clung, driving before

  The stormy blast. Nine days complete I drove,