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The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

Page 110

by George Chapman


  3 ‘Αμὑμονος translated in this place inculpabilis, and made ‭the epithet of Ægisthus, is from the true sense of the word, as it is ‭here to be understood; which is quite contrary. As ὰντίθεος is ‭to be expounded in some place Divinus, or Deo similis, but in ‭another (soon after) contrarius Deo. The person to whom the ‭epithet is given giving reason to distinguish it. And so ‭ὀλοὁφρων, an epithet given to Atlas, instantly following, in one ‭place signifies mente perniciosus, in the next, qui universa ‭mente gerit.

  4 In this place is Atlas given the epithet ὀλοὁφρων, which ‭signifies qui universa mente agitat, here given him for the power ‭the stars have in all things. Yet this receives other interpretation in ‭other places, as abovesaid.

  5 Δὐστηνος is here turned by others, infelix, in the general ‭collection; when it hath here a particular exposition, applied to ‭express Ulysses’ desert errors, ‘παρἁ τὁ στἣναι, ut sit, qui vix ‭locum invenire potest ubi consistat.

  6 This is thus translated, the rather to express and approve the ‭allegory driven through the whole Odysseys. Deciphering the ‭intangling of the wisest in his affections; and the torments that ‭breed in every pious mind; to be thereby hindered to arrive so ‭directly as he desires, at the proper and only true natural country ‭of every worthy man, whose haven is heaven and the next life, to ‭which, this life is but a sea in continual æsture and vexation. The ‭words occasioning all this are μαλακοἳς λὀλοις: μαλακὀς ‭signifying, qui languide, et animo remisso rem aliquam gerit; ‭which being the effect of Calypso’s sweet words in Ulysses, is here ‭applied passively to his own sufferance of their operation.

  7 ῞Ερκος ὀδὀντων, viz. vallum or clanstrum dentium, ‭which, for the better sound in our language, is here turned, Pale of ‭Ivory. The teeth being that rampire, or pale, given us by nature in ‭that part for restraint and compression of our speech, till the ‭imagination, appetite, and soul (that ought to rule in their ‭examination, before their delivery) have given worthy pass to ‭them. The most grave and divine poet, teaching therein, that not so ‭much for the necessary chewing of our sustenance our teeth are ‭given us, as for their stay of our words, lest we utter them rashly.

  8 Τὀσος παîς, Tantus filius. Pallas thus enforcing her question ‭to stir up the son the more to the father’s worthiness.

  9 ‘Ερἰηρος ἀοιδὀς. Cantor, cujus tam apta est societas ‭hominibus.

  10 ‘Ανδρἀσιν ἀλφηστᾔσιν. ‘Αλφηστᾔσιν is an epithet proper to ‭poets for their first finding out of arts and documents tending to ‭elocution and government inspired only by Jove, and are here ‭called the first of men, since first they gave rules to manly life, and ‭have their information immediately from Jove (as Plato in Ione ‭witnesseth); the word deduced from ἅλφα, which is taken for ‭him qui primas teneat aliquâ in re, and will ἀλφηστῃσιν then ‭be sufficiently expressed with ingeniosis, than which no ‭exposition goes further.

  11 ‘Ηωθεν, prima luce.

  12 Upon this answer of Telemachus, because it hath so sudden a ‭change and is so far let down from his late height of heat, altering ‭and tempering so commandingly his affections I thought not amiss ‭to insert here Spondanus’ further annotations, which is this: ‭Prudenter Telemachus joco furorem Antinoi ac asperitatem ‭emolliit. Nam ita dictum illius interpretatur, ut existimetur censere ‭jocosè ilia etiam ab Antinoo adversum se pronunciata. Et primum ‭ironicè se Regem esse exoptat propter commoda quæ Reges solent ‭comitari. Ne tamen invidiam in se ambitionis concitet, testatur se ‭regnum, Ithacæ non ambire, mortuo Ulysse, cum id alii possidere ‭queant se longe præstantiores ac digniores: hoc unum ait se moliri, ‭ut propriarum ædium et bonorum solus sit dominus, iis exclusis, ac ‭ejectis, qui vi illa occupare ac disperdere conantur.

  THE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

  THE ARGUMENT

  Telemachus to court doth call

  ‭ The Wooers, and commands them all

  ‭ To leave his house; and taking then

  ‭ From wise Minerva ship and men,

  ‭ And all things fit for him beside,

  ‭ That Euryclea could provide

  ‭ For sea-rites till he found his sire,

  ‭ He hoists sail; when Heav’n stoops his fire.

  ANOTHER ARGUMENT

  βητα.

  ‭ The old Maid’s store

  ‭ The voyage cheers.

  ‭ The ship leaves shore,

  ‭ Minerva steers.

  Now when with rosy fingers, th’ early born

  ‭ And thrown through all the air, appear’d the Morn,

  ‭ Ulysses’ lov’d son from his bed appear’d,

  ‭ His weeds put on, and did about him gird

  ‭ His sword that thwart his shoulders hung, and tied

  ‭ To his fair feet fair shoes, and all parts plied

  ‭ For speedy readiness: who, when he trod

  ‭ The open earth, to men show’d like a God.

  ‭ The heralds then he straight charg’d to consort

  ‭ The curl’d-head Greeks, with loud calls, to a Court.

  ‭ They summon’d; th’ other came in utmost haste.

  ‭ Who all assembled, and in one heap plac’d

  ‭ He likewise came to council, and did bear

  ‭ In his fair hand his iron-headed spear.

  ‭ Nor came alone, nor with men-troops prepar’d,

  ‭ But two fleet dogs made both his train and guard.

  ‭ Pallas supplied with her high wisdom’s grace,

  ‭ That all men’s wants supplies, State’s painted face.

  ‭ His ent’ring presence all men did admire;

  ‭ Who took seat in the high throne of his sire,

  ‭ To which the grave peers gave him rev’rend way.

  ‭ Amongst whom, an Egyptian heroë

  ‭ (Crookéd with age, and full of skill) begun

  ‭ The speech to all; who had a loved son

  ‭ That with divine Ulysses did ascend

  ‭ His hollow fleet to Troy; to serve which end,

  ‭ He kept fair horse, and was a man-at-arms,

  ‭ And in the cruel Cyclop’s stern alarms

  ‭ His life lost by him in his hollow cave,

  ‭ Whose entrails open’d his abhorréd grave,

  ‭ And made of him, of all Ulysses’ train,

  ‭ His latest supper, being latest slain;

  ‭ His name was Antiphus, And this old man,

  ‭ This crookéd-grown, this wise Egyptian,

  ‭ Had three sons more; of which one riotous

  ‭ A wooer was, and call’d Eurynomus;

  ‭ The other two took both his own wish’d course.

  ‭ Yet both the best fates weigh’d not down the worse,

  ‭ But left the old man mindful still of moan;

  ‭ Who, weeping, thus bespake the Session:

  ‭ “Hear, Ithacensians, all I fitly say:

  ‭ Since our divine Ulysses’ parting day

  ‭ Never was council call’d, nor session,

  ‭ And now by whom is this thus undergone?

  ‭ Whom did necessity so much compell,

  ‭ Of young or old? Hath anyone heard tell

  ‭ Of any coming army, that he thus now

  ‭ May openly take boldness to avow,

  ‭ First having heard it? Or will any here

  ‭ Some motion for the public good prefer?

  ‭ Some worth of note there is in this command;

  ‭ And, methinks, it must be some good man’s hand

  ‭ That’s put to it, that either hath direct

  ‭ Means to assist, or, for his good affect,

  ‭ Hopes to be happy in the proof he makes;

  ‭ And that Jove grant, whate’er he undertakes.”

  ‭ Telemachus (rejoicing much to hear

  ‭ The good hope and op
inion men did bear

  ‭ Of his young actions) no longer sat,

  ‭ But long’d t’ approve what this man pointed at,

  ‭ And make his first proof in a cause so good;

  ‭ And in the council’s chief place up he stood;

  ‭ When straight Pisenor (herald to his sire,

  ‭ And learn’d in counsels) felt his heart on fire

  ‭ To hear him speak, and put into his hand

  ‭ The sceptre that his father did command;

  ‭ Then, to the old Egyptian turn’d, he spoke:

  ‭ “Father, not far he is that undertook

  ‭ To call this Council; whom you soon shall know.

  ‭ Myself, whose wrongs my griefs will make me show,

  ‭ Am he that author’d this assembly here.

  ‭ Nor have I heard of any army near,

  ‭ Of which, being first told, I might iterate,

  ‭ Nor for the public good can aught relate,

  ‭ Only mine own affairs all this procure,

  ‭ That in my house a double ill endure;

  ‭ One, having lost a father so renown’d,

  ‭ Whose kind rule once with’ your command was crown’d;

  ‭ The other is, what much more doth augment

  ‭ His weighty loss, the ruin imminent

  ‭ Of all my house by it, my goods all spent.

  ‭ And of all this the wooers, that are sons

  ‭ To our chief peers, are the confusións,

  ‭ Importuning my mother’s marriáge

  ‭ Against her will; nor dares their blood’s bold rage

  ‭ Go to Icarius’, her father’s, court,

  ‭ That, his will ask’d in kind and comely sort,

  ‭ He may endow his daughter with a dow’r,

  ‭ And, she consenting, at his pleasure’s pow’r

  ‭ Dispose her to a man, that, thus behav’d,

  ‭ May have fit grace, and see her honour sav’d.

  ‭ But these, in none but my house, all their lives

  ‭ Resolve to spend; slaught’ring my sheep and beeves,

  ‭ And with my fattest goats lay feast on feast,

  ‭ My gen’rous wine consuming as they list.

  ‭ A world of things they spoil, here wanting one,

  ‭ That, like Ulysses, quickly could set gone

  ‭ These peace-plagues from his house, that spoil like war;

  ‭ Whom my pow’rs are unfit to urge so far,

  ‭ Myself immartial. But, had I the pow’r,

  ‭ My will should serve me to exempt this hour

  ‭ From out my life-time. For, past patience,

  ‭ Base deeds are done here, that exceed defence

  ‭ Of any honour. Falling is my house,

  ‭ Which you should shame to see so ruinous.

  ‭ Rev’rence the censures that all good men give,

  ‭ That dwell about you; and for fear to live

  ‭ Expos’d to heav’n’s wrath (that doth ever pay

  ‭ Pains for joys forfeit) even by Jove I pray,

  ‭ Or Themis, both which pow’rs have to restrain,

  ‭ Or gather, councils, that ye will abstain

  ‭ From further spoil, and let me only waste

  ‭ In that most wretched grief I have embrac’d

  ‭ For my lost father. And though I am free

  ‭ From meriting your outrage, yet, if he,

  ‭ Good man, hath ever with a hostile heart

  ‭ Done ill to any Greek, on me convert

  ‭ Your like hostility, and vengeance take

  ‭ Of his ill on my life, and all these make

  ‭ Join in that justice; but, to see abus’d

  ‭ Those goods that do none ill but being ill-us’d,

  ‭ Exceeds all right. Yet better ’tis for me,

  ‭ My whole possessions and my rents to see

  ‭ Consum’d by you, than lose my life and all;

  ‭ For on your rapine a revenge may fall,

  ‭ While I live; and so long I may complain

  ‭ About the city, till my goods again,

  ‭ Oft ask’d, may be with all amends repaid.

  ‭ But in the mean space your misrule hath laid

  ‭ Griefs on my bosom, that can only speak,

  ‭ And are denied the instant pow’r of wreak.”

  ‭ This said, his sceptre ‘gainst the ground he threw,

  ‭ And tears still’d from him; which mov’d all the crew,

  ‭ The court struck silent, not a man did dare

  ‭ To give a word that might offend his ear.

  ‭ Antinous only in this sort replied:

  ‭ “High spoken, and of spirit unpacified,

  ‭ How have you sham’d us in this speech of yours!

  ‭ Will you brand us for an offence not ours?

  ‭ Your mother, first in craft, is first in cause.

  ‭ Three years are past, and near the fourth now draws,

  ‭ Since first she mock’d the peers Achaian.

  ‭ All she made hope, and promis’d ev’ry man,

  ‭ Sent for us ever, left love’s show in nought,

  ‭ But in her heart conceal’d another thought.

  ‭ Besides, as curious in her craft, her loom

  ‭ She with a web charg’d, hard to overcome,

  ‭ And thus bespake us: ‘Youths, that seek my bed,

  ‭ Since my divine spouse rests amongst the dead,

  ‭ Hold on your suits but till I end, at most,

  ‭ This funeral weed, lest what is done be lost.

  ‭ Besides, I purpose, that when th’ austere fate

  ‭ Of bitter death shall take into his state

  ‭ Laertes the heroë, it shall deck

  ‭ His royal corse, since I should suffer check

  ‭ In ill report of ev’ry common dame,

  ‭ If one so rich should show in death his shame.’

  ‭ This speech she us’d; and this did soon persuade

  ‭ Our gentle minds. But this a work she made

  ‭ So hugely long, undoing still in night,

  ‭ By torches, all she did by day’s broad light,

  ‭ That three years her deceit div’d past our view,

  ‭ And made us think that all she feign’d was true.

  ‭ But when the fourth year came, and those sly hours

  ‭ That still surprise at length dames’ craftiest powers,

  ‭ One of her women, that knew all, disclos’d

  ‭ The secret to us, that she still unloos’d

  ‭ Her whole day’s fair affair in depth of night.

  ‭ And then no further she could force her sleight,

  ‭ But, of necessity, her work gave end.

  ‭ And thus, by me, doth ev’ry other friend,

  ‭ Professing love to her, reply to thee;

  ‭ That ev’n thyself, and all Greeks else, may see,

  ‭ That we offend not in our stay, but she.

  ‭ To free thy house then, send her to her sire,

  ‭ Commanding that her choice be left entire

  ‭ To his election, and one settled will.

  ‭ Nor let her vex with her illusions still

  ‭ Her friends that woo her, standing on her wit,

  ‭ Because wise Pallas hath giv’n wills to it

  ‭ So full of art, and made her understand

  ‭ All works in fair skill of a lady’s hand.

  ‭ But (for her working mind) we read of none

  ‭ Of all the old world, in which Greece hath shown

  ‭ Her rarest pieces, that could equal her:

  ‭ Tyro, Alcmena, and Mycena were

  ‭ To hold comparison in no degree,

  ‭ For solid brain, with wise Penelope.

  ‭ And yet, in her delays of us, she shows

  ‭ No prophet’s skill with all the wit she owes;

  ‭ For all this time thy goods and victuals go

  �
�� To utter ruin; and shall ever so,

  ‭ While thus the Gods her glorious mind dispose.

  ‭ Glory herself may gain, but thou shalt lose

  ‭ Thy longings ev’n for necessary food,

  ‭ For we will never go where lies our good,

  ‭ Nor any other where, till this delay

  ‭ She puts on all she quits with th’ endless stay

  ‭ Of some one of us, that to all the rest

  ‭ May give free farewell with his nuptial feast.”

  ‭ The wise young prince replied: “Antinous!

  ‭ I may by no means turn out of my house

  ‭ Her that hath brought me forth and nourish’d me.

  ‭ Besides, if quick or dead my father be

  ‭ In any region, yet abides in doubt;

  ‭ And ‘twill go hard, my means being so run out,

  ‭ To tender to Icarius again,

  ‭ If he again my mother must maintain

  ‭ In her retreat, the dow’r she brought with her.

  ‭ And then a double ill it will confer,

  ‭ Both from my father and from God on me,

  ‭ When, thrust out of her house, on her bent knee,

  ‭ My mother shall the horrid Furies raise

  ‭ With imprecations, and all men dispraise

  ‭ My part in her exposure. Never then

  ‭ Will I perform this counsel. If your spleen

  ‭ Swell at my courses, once more I command

  ‭ Your absence from my house; some other’s hand

  ‭ Charge with your banquets; on your own goods eat,

  ‭ And either other mutually in treat,

  ‭ At either of your houses, with your feast.

  ‭ But if ye still esteem more sweet and best

  ‭ Another’s spoil, so you still wreakless live,

  ‭ Gnaw, vermin-like, things sacred, no laws give 1

  ‭ To your devouring; it remains that I

  ‭ Invoke each Ever-living Deity,

  ‭ And vow, if Jove shall deign in any date

  ‭ Pow’r of like pains for pleasure so past rate,

  ‭ From thenceforth look, where ye have revell’d so

  ‭ Unwreak’d, your ruins all shall undergo.”

  ‭ Thus spake Telemachus; t’ assure whose threat,

  ‭ Far-seeing Jove upon their pinions set

  ‭ Two eagles from the high brows of a hill,

  ‭ That, mounted on the Winds, together still

 

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