Complete Works of Homer

by Homer

  Your tunics; bid ye, next, the maidens take

  Their best attire, and let the bard divine

  Harping melodious play a sportive dance,

  That, whether passenger or neighbour near,

  All may imagine nuptials held within.

  So shall not loud report that we have slain

  All those, alarm the city, till we gain

  Our woods and fields, where, once arriv'd, such plans 160

  We will devise, as Jove shall deign to inspire.

  He spake, and all, obedient, in the bath

  First laved themselves, then put their tunics on;

  The damsels also dress'd, and the sweet bard,

  Harping melodious, kindled strong desire

  In all, of jocund song and graceful dance.

  The palace under all its vaulted roof

  Remurmur'd to the feet of sportive youths

  And cinctured maidens, while no few abroad,

  Hearing such revelry within, remark'd-- 170

  The Queen with many wooers, weds at last.

  Ah fickle and unworthy fair! too frail

  Always to keep inviolate the house

  Of her first Lord, and wait for his return.

  So spake the people; but they little knew

  What had befall'n. Eurynome, meantime,

  With bath and unction serv'd the illustrious Chief

  Ulysses, and he saw himself attired

  Royally once again in his own house.

  Then, Pallas over all his features shed 180

  Superior beauty, dignified his form

  With added amplitude, and pour'd his curls

  Like hyacinthine flow'rs down from his brows.

  As when some artist by Minerva made

  And Vulcan, wise to execute all tasks

  Ingenious, borders silver with a wreath

  Of gold, accomplishing a graceful work,

  Such grace the Goddess o'er his ample chest

  Copious diffused, and o'er his manly brows.

  He, godlike, stepping from the bath, resumed 190

  His former seat magnificent, and sat

  Opposite to the Queen, to whom he said.

  Penelope! the Gods to thee have giv'n

  Of all thy sex, the most obdurate heart.

  Another wife lives not who could endure

  Such distance from her husband new-return'd

  To his own country in the twentieth year,

  After such hardship. But prepare me, nurse,

  A bed, for solitary I must sleep,

  Since she is iron, and feels not for me. 200

  Him answer'd then prudent Penelope.

  I neither magnify thee, sir! nor yet

  Depreciate thee, nor is my wonder such

  As hurries me at once into thy arms,

  Though my remembrance perfectly retains,

  Such as he was, Ulysses, when he sail'd

  On board his bark from Ithaca--Go, nurse,

  Prepare his bed, but not within the walls

  Of his own chamber built with his own hands.

  Spread it without, and spread it well with warm 210

  Mantles, with fleeces, and with richest rugs.

  So spake she, proving him, and not untouch'd

  With anger at that word, thus he replied.

  Penelope, that order grates my ear.

  Who hath displaced my bed? The task were hard

  E'en to an artist; other than a God

  None might with ease remove it; as for man,

  It might defy the stoutest in his prime

  Of youth, to heave it to a different spot.

  For in that bed elaborate, a sign, 220

  A special sign consists; I was myself

  The artificer; I fashion'd it alone.

  Within the court a leafy olive grew

  Lofty, luxuriant, pillar-like in girth.

  Around this tree I built, with massy stones

  Cemented close, my chamber, roof'd it o'er,

  And hung the glutinated portals on.

  I lopp'd the ample foliage and the boughs,

  And sev'ring near the root its solid bole,

  Smooth'd all the rugged stump with skilful hand, 230

  And wrought it to a pedestal well squared

  And modell'd by the line. I wimbled, next,

  The frame throughout, and from the olive-stump

  Beginning, fashion'd the whole bed above

  Till all was finish'd, plated o'er with gold,

  With silver, and with ivory, and beneath

  Close interlaced with purple cordage strong.

  Such sign I give thee. But if still it stand

  Unmoved, or if some other, sev'ring sheer

  The olive from its bottom, have displaced 240

  My bed--that matter is best known to thee.

  He ceas'd; she, conscious of the sign so plain

  Giv'n by Ulysses, heard with flutt'ring heart

  And fault'ring knees that proof. Weeping she ran

  Direct toward him, threw her arms around

  The Hero, kiss'd his forehead, and replied.

  Ah my Ulysses! pardon me--frown not--

  Thou, who at other times hast ever shewn

  Superior wisdom! all our griefs have flow'd

  From the Gods' will; they envied us the bliss 250

  Of undivided union sweet enjoy'd

  Through life, from early youth to latest age.

  No. Be not angry now; pardon the fault

  That I embraced thee not as soon as seen,

  For horror hath not ceased to overwhelm

  My soul, lest some false alien should, perchance,

  Beguile me, for our house draws num'rous such.

  Jove's daughter, Argive Helen, ne'er had given

  Free entertainment to a stranger's love,

  Had she foreknown that the heroic sons 260

  Of Greece would bring her to her home again.

  But heav'n incited her to that offence,

  Who never, else, had even in her thought

  Harbour'd the foul enormity, from which

  Originated even our distress.

  But now, since evident thou hast described

  Our bed, which never mortal yet beheld,

  Ourselves except and Actoris my own

  Attendant, giv'n me when I left my home

  By good Icarius, and who kept the door, 270

  Though hard to be convinced, at last I yield.

  So saying, she awaken'd in his soul

  Pity and grief; and folding in his arms

  His blameless consort beautiful, he wept.

  Welcome as land appears to those who swim,

  Whose gallant bark Neptune with rolling waves

  And stormy winds hath sunk in the wide sea,

  A mariner or two, perchance, escape

  The foamy flood, and, swimming, reach the land,

  Weary indeed, and with incrusted brine 280

  All rough, but oh, how glad to climb the coast!

  So welcome in her eyes Ulysses seem'd,

  Around whose neck winding her snowy arms,

  She clung as she would loose him never more.

  Thus had they wept till rosy-finger'd morn

  Had found them weeping, but Minerva check'd

  Night's almost finish'd course, and held, meantime,

  The golden dawn close pris'ner in the Deep,

  Forbidding her to lead her coursers forth,

  Lampus and Phaëton that furnish light 290

  To all the earth, and join them to the yoke.

  Then thus, Ulysses to Penelope.

  My love; we have not yet attain'd the close

  Of all our sufferings, but unmeasured toil

  Arduous remains, which I must still atchieve.

  For so the spirit of the Theban seer

  Inform'd me, on that day, when to enquire

  Of mine and of my people's safe return

  I journey'd down to Pluto's drear abode. />
  But let us hence to bed, there to enjoy 300

  Tranquil repose. My love, make no delay.

  Him answer'd then prudent Penelope.

  Thou shalt to bed at whatsoever time

  Thy soul desires, since the immortal Gods

  Give thee to me and to thy home again.

  But, thou hast spoken from the seer of Thebes

  Of arduous toils yet unperform'd; declare

  What toils? Thou wilt disclose them, as I judge,

  Hereafter, and why not disclose them now?

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. 310

  Ah conversant with woe! why would'st thou learn

  That tale? but I will tell it thee at large.

  Thou wilt not hear with joy, nor shall myself

  With joy rehearse it; for he bade me seek

  City after city, bearing, as I go,

  A shapely oar, till I shall find, at length,

  A people who the sea know not, nor eat

  Food salted; they trim galley crimson-prow'd

  Have ne'er beheld, nor yet smooth-shaven oar

  With which the vessel wing'd scuds o'er the waves. 320

  He gave me also this authentic sign,

  Which I will tell thee. In what place soe'er

  I chance to meet a trav'ler who shall name

  The oar on my broad shoulder borne, a van;

  He bade me, planting it on the same spot,

  Worship the King of Ocean with a bull,

  A ram, and a lascivious boar, then seek

  My home again, and sacrifice at home

  An hecatomb to the immortal Gods

  Inhabitants of the expanse above. 330

  So shall I die, at length, the gentlest death

  Remote from Ocean; it shall find me late,

  In soft serenity of age, the Chief

  Of a blest people.--Thus he prophesied.

  Him answer'd then Penelope discrete.

  If heav'n appoint thee in old age a lot

  More tranquil, hope thence springs of thy escape

  Some future day from all thy threaten'd woes.

  Such was their mutual conf'rence sweet; meantime

  Eurynome and Euryclea dress'd 340

  Their bed by light of the clear torch, and when

  Dispatchful they had spread it broad and deep,

  The ancient nurse to her own bed retired.

  Then came Eurynome, to whom in trust

  The chambers appertain'd, and with a torch

  Conducted them to rest; she introduced

  The happy pair, and went; transported they

  To rites connubial intermitted long,

  And now recover'd, gave themselves again.

  Meantime, the Prince, the herdsman, and the good 350

  Eumæus, giving rest each to his feet,

  Ceased from the dance; they made the women cease

  Also, and to their sev'ral chambers all

  Within the twilight edifice repair'd.

  At length, with conjugal endearment both

  Satiate, Ulysses tasted and his spouse

  The sweets of mutual converse. She rehearsed,

  Noblest of women, all her num'rous woes

  Beneath that roof sustain'd, while she beheld

  The profligacy of the suitor-throng, 360

  Who in their wooing had consumed his herds

  And fatted flocks, and drawn his vessels dry;

  While brave Ulysses, in his turn, to her

  Related his successes and escapes,

  And his afflictions also; he told her all;

  She listen'd charm'd, nor slumber on his eyes

  Fell once, or ere he had rehearsed the whole.

  Beginning, he discoursed, how, at the first

  He conquer'd in Ciconia, and thence reach'd

  The fruitful shores of the Lotophagi; 370

  The Cyclops' deeds he told her next, and how

  He well avenged on him his slaughter'd friends

  Whom, pitiless, the monster had devour'd.

  How to the isle of Æolus he came,

  Who welcom'd him and safe dismiss'd him thence,

  Although not destin'd to regain so soon

  His native land; for o'er the fishy deep

  Loud tempests snatch'd him sighing back again.

  How, also at Telepylus he arrived,

  Town of the Læstrygonians, who destroyed 380

  His ships with all their mariners, his own

  Except, who in his sable bark escaped.

  Of guileful Circe too he spake, deep-skill'd

  In various artifice, and how he reach'd

  With sails and oars the squalid realms of death,

  Desirous to consult the prophet there

  Theban Tiresias, and how there he view'd

  All his companions, and the mother bland

  Who bare him, nourisher of his infant years.

  How, next he heard the Sirens in one strain 390

  All chiming sweet, and how he reach'd the rocks

  Erratic, Scylla and Charybdis dire,

  Which none secure from injury may pass.

  Then, how the partners of his voyage slew

  The Sun's own beeves, and how the Thund'rer Jove

  Hurl'd down his smoky bolts into his bark,

  Depriving him at once of all his crew,

  Whose dreadful fate he yet, himself, escaped.

  How to Ogygia's isle he came, where dwelt

  The nymph Calypso, who, enamour'd, wish'd 400

  To espouse him, and within her spacious grot

  Detain'd, and fed, and promis'd him a life

  Exempt for ever from the sap of age,

  But him moved not. How, also, he arrived

  After much toil, on the Phæacian coast,

  Where ev'ry heart revered him as a God,

  And whence, enriching him with brass and gold,

  And costly raiment first, they sent him home.

  At this last word, oblivious slumber sweet

  Fell on him, dissipating all his cares. 410

  Meantime, Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed,

  On other thoughts intent, soon as she deem'd

  Ulysses with connubial joys sufficed,

  And with sweet sleep, at once from Ocean rous'd

  The golden-axled chariot of the morn

  To illumine earth. Then from his fleecy couch

  The Hero sprang, and thus his spouse enjoined.

  Oh consort dear! already we have striv'n

  Against our lot, till wearied with the toil,

  My painful absence, thou with ceaseless tears 420

  Deploring, and myself in deep distress

  Withheld reluctant from my native shores

  By Jove and by the other pow'rs of heav'n.

  But since we have in this delightful bed

  Met once again, watch thou and keep secure

  All my domestic treasures, and ere long

  I will replace my num'rous sheep destroy'd

  By those imperious suitors, and the Greeks

  Shall add yet others till my folds be fill'd.

  But to the woodlands go I now--to see 430

  My noble father, who for my sake mourns

  Continual; as for thee, my love, although

  I know thee wise, I give thee thus in charge.

  The sun no sooner shall ascend, than fame

  Shall wide divulge the deed that I have done,

  Slaying the suitors under my own roof.

  Thou, therefore, with thy maidens, sit retired

  In thy own chamber at the palace-top,

  Nor question ask, nor, curious, look abroad.

  He said, and cov'ring with his radiant arms 440

  His shoulders, called Telemachus; he roused

  Eumæus and the herdsman too, and bade

  All take their martial weapons in their hand.

  Not disobedient they, as he enjoin'd,

  Put armour on, and issued from the gates

 
Ulysses at their head. The earth was now

  Enlighten'd, but Minerva them in haste

  Led forth into the fields, unseen by all.

  FOOTNOTES:

  The proof consisted in this--that the bed being attached to the

  stump of an olive tree still rooted, was immovable, and Ulysses having

  made it himself, no person present, he must needs be apprized of the

  impossibility of her orders, if he were indeed Ulysses; accordingly, this

  demonstration of his identity satisfies all her scruples.

  See the note on the same passage, Book XI.

  Aristophanes the grammarian and Aristarchus chose that the Odyssey

  should end here; but the story is not properly concluded till the tumult

  occasioned by the slaughter of so many Princes being composed, Ulysses

  finds himself once more in peaceful possession of his country.

  BOOK XXIV

  ARGUMENT

  Mercury conducts the souls of the suitors down to Ades. Ulysses discovers

  himself to Laertes, and quells, by the aid of Minerva, an insurrection of

  the people resenting the death of the suitors.

  And now Cyllenian Hermes summon'd forth

  The spirits of the suitors; waving wide

  The golden wand of pow'r to seal all eyes

  In slumber, and to ope them wide again,

  He drove them gibb'ring down into the shades,

  As when the bats within some hallow'd cave

  Flit squeaking all around, for if but one

  Fall from the rock, the rest all follow him,

  In such connexion mutual they adhere,

  So, after bounteous Mercury, the ghosts, 10

  Troop'd downward gibb'ring all the dreary way.

  The Ocean's flood and the Leucadian rock,

  The Sun's gate also and the land of Dreams

  They pass'd, whence, next, into the meads they came

  Of Asphodel, by shadowy forms possess'd,

  Simulars of the dead. They found the souls

  Of brave Pelides there, and of his friend

  Patroclus, of Antilochus renown'd,

  And of the mightier Ajax, for his form

  And bulk (Achilles sole except) of all 20

  The sons of the Achaians most admired.

  These waited on Achilles. Then, appear'd

  The mournful ghost of Agamemnon, son

  Of Atreus, compass'd by the ghosts of all

  Who shared his fate beneath Ægisthus' roof,

  And him the ghost of Peleus' son bespake.

  Atrides! of all Heroes we esteem'd

  Thee dearest to the Gods, for that thy sway

  Extended over such a glorious host

  At Ilium, scene of sorrow to the Greeks. 30

  But Fate, whose ruthless force none may escape