by Homer
Like Enipeus, and enjoy’d the dame.
Like to a hill, the blue and shaky flood
Above th’ immortal and the mortal stood,
And hid them both, as both together lay,
Just where his current falls into the sea.
Her virgin waist dissolv’d, she slumber’d then.
But when the god had done the work of men,
Her fair hand gently wringing, thus he said:
‘Woman! Rejoice in our combined bed,
For when the year hath run his circle round
(Because the gods’ loves must in fruit abound)
My love shall make, to cheer thy teeming moans,
Thy one dear burden bear two famous sons;
Love well, and bring them up. Go home, and see
That, though of more joy yet I shall be free,
Thou dost not tell, to glorify thy birth,
Thy love is Neptune, shaker of the earth.’
This said, he plung’d into the sea; and she,
Begot with child by him, the light let see
Great Pelias and Neleus, that became
In Jove’s great ministry of mighty fame.
Pelias in broad Iolcus held his throne,
Wealthy in cattle; th’ other royal son
Rul’d sandy Pylos. To these issue more
This queen of women to her husband bore,
Aeson, and Pheres, and Amythaon
That for his fight on horseback stoop’d to none.
Next her, I saw admir’d Antiope,
Asopus’ daughter, who (as much as she
Boasted attraction of great Neptune’s love)
Boasted to slumber in the arms of Jove,
And two sons likewise at one burden bore
To that her all-controlling paramour,
Amphion and fair Zethus, that first laid
Great Thebes’ foundations, and strong walls convey’d
About her turrets, that seven ports enclos’d.
For though the Thebans much in strength repos’d,
Yet had not they the strength to hold their own
Without the added aids of wood and stone.
Alcmena next I saw, that famous wife
Was to Amphitryo, and honour’d life
Gave to the lion-hearted Hercules,
That was of Jove’s embrace the great increase.
I saw, besides, proud Creon’s daughter there,
Bright Megara, that nuptial yoke did wear
With Jove’s great son, who never field did try
But bore to him the flower of victory.
The mother then of Oedipus I saw,
Fair Epicasta, that, beyond all law,
Her own son married, ignorant of kind,
And he, as darkly taken in his mind,
His mother wedded, and his father slew.
Whose blind act heav’n expos’d at length to view,
And he in all-lov’d Thebes the supreme state
With much moan manag’d, for the heavy fate
The gods laid on him. She made violent flight
To Pluto’s dark house from the loathed light,
Beneath a steep beam strangled with a cord,
And left her son, in life, pains as abhorr’d
As all the Furies pour’d on her in hell.
Then saw I Chloris, that did so excel
In answering beauties, that each part had all.
Great Neleus married her, when gifts not small
Had won her favour, term’d by name of dow’r.
She was of all Amphion’s seed the flow’r –
Amphion, call’d Iasides, that then
Ruled strongly Myniaean Orchomen,
And now his daughter rul’d the Pylian throne,
Because her beauty’s empire overshone.
She brought her wife-aw’d husband, Neleus,
Nestor much honour’d, Periclymenus,
And Chromius, sons with sovereign virtues grac’d
But after brought a daughter that surpass’d,
Rare-beautied Pero, so for form exact
That nature to a miracle was rack’d
In her perfections, blaz’d with th’ eyes of men,
That made of all the country’s hearts a chain,
And drew them suitors to her. Which her sire
Took vantage of, and, since he did aspire
To nothing more than to the broad-brow’d herd
Of oxen, which the common fame so rear’d,
Own’d by Iphiclus, not a man should be
His Pero’s husband, that from Phylace
Those never-yet-driv’n oxen could not drive.
Yet these a strong hope held him to achieve,
Because a prophet, that had never err’d,
Had said, that only he should be preferr’d
To their possession. But the equal fate
Of god withstood his stealth; inextricate
Imprisoning bands, and sturdy churlish swains
That were the herdsmen, who withheld with chains
The stealth-attempter; which was only he
That durst abet the act with prophecy,
None else would undertake it, and he must –
The king would needs a prophet should be just.
But when some days and months expired were,
And all the hours had brought about the year,
The prophet did so satisfy the king
(Iphiclus, all his cunning questioning)
That he enfranchis’d him; and, all worst done,
Jove’s counsel made th’ all-safe conclusion.
Then saw I Leda, link’d in nuptial chain
With Tyndarus, to whom she did sustain
Sons much renown’d for wisdom: Castor one,
That pass’d for use of horse comparison,
And Pollux, that excell’d in whirlbat fight;
Both these the fruitful earth bore, while the light
Of life inspir’d them; after which, they found
Such grace with Jove, that both liv’d under ground,
By change of days; life still did one sustain,
While th’ other died; the dead then liv’d again,
The living dying; both of one self date
Their lives and deaths made by the gods and fate.
Iphimedia after Leda came,
That did derive from Neptune too the name
Of father to two admirable sons.
Life yet made short their admirations,
Who god-opposed Otus had to name,
And Ephialtes far in sound of fame.
The prodigal earth so fed them, that they grew
To most huge stature, and had fairest hue
Of all men but Orion, under heav’n.
At nine years old nine cubits they were driv’n
Abroad in breadth, and sprung nine fathoms high.
They threaten’d to give battle to the sky,
And all th’ immortals. They were setting on
Ossa upon Olympus, and upon
Steep Ossa leavy Pelius, that ev’n
They might a highway make with lofty heav’n;
And had perhaps perform’d it, had they liv’d
Till they were striplings; but Jove’s son depriv’d
Their limbs of life, before th’ age that begins
The flow’r of youth, and should adorn their chins.
Phaedra and Procris, with wise Minos’ flame,
Bright Ariadne, to the offering came,
That Athens’ sacred soil might kiss her feet,
But never could obtain her virgin flow’r,
Till in the sea-girt Dia, Dian’s pow’r
Detain’d his homeward haste, where (in her fane,
By Bacchus witness’d) was the fatal wane
Of her prime glory. Maera, Clymene,
I witness’d there; and loath’d Eriphyle,
That honour’d gold more than she lov’d her spouse.
But all th’ heroësses in Pluto’s house
That then encounter’d me, exceeds my might
To name or number, and ambrosian night
Would quite be spent, when now the formal hours
Present to sleep our all-disposed pow’rs,
If at my ship, or here. My home-made vow
I leave for fit grace to the gods and you.’
This said, the silence his discourse had made
With pleasure held still through the house’s shade,
When white-arm’d Arete this speech began:
‘Phaeacians! How appears to you this man,
So goodly person’d, and so match’d with mind?
My guest he is, but all you stand combin’d
In the renown he doth us. Do not then
With careless haste dismiss him, nor the main
Of his dispatch to one so needy maim;
The gods’ free bounty gives us all just claim
To goods enow.’ This speech the oldest man
Of any other Phaeacensian,
The grave heroë, Echineus, gave
All approbation, saying: ‘Friends! Ye have
The motion of the wise queen in such words
As have not miss’d the mark, with which accords
My clear opinion. But Alcinous
In word and work must be our rule.’ He thus;
And then Alcinous said: ‘This then must stand,
If while I live I rule in the command
Of this well-skill’d-in-navigation state:
Endure then, guest, though most importunate
Be your affects for home. A little stay
If your expectance bear, perhaps it may
Our gifts make more complete. The cares of all
Your due deduction asks; but principal
I am therein the ruler.’ He replied:
‘Alcinous, the most duly glorified,
With rule of all, of all men, if you lay
Commandment on me of a whole year’s stay,
So all the while your preparations rise,
As well in gifts as time, ye can devise
No better wish for me; for I shall come
Much fuller-handed, and more honour’d, home,
And dearer to my people, in whose loves
The richer evermore the better proves.’
He answer’d: ‘There is argu’d in your sight
A worth that works not men for benefit,
Like prowlers or impostors; of which crew,
The gentle black earth feeds not up a few,
Here and there wanderers, blanching tales and lies,
Of neither praise nor use. You move our eyes
With form, our minds with matter, and our ears
With elegant oration, such as bears
A music in the order’d history
It lays before us. Not Demodocus
With sweeter strains hath us’d to sing to us
All the Greek sorrows, wept out in your own.
But say, of all your worthy friends, were none
Objected to your eyes that consorts were
To Ilion with you, and serv’d destiny there?
This night is passing long, unmeasur’d, none
Of all my household would to bed yet; on,
Relate these wondrous things. Were I with you,
If you would tell me but your woes, as now,
Till the divine Aurora show’d her head,
I should in no night relish thought of bed.’
‘Most eminent king,’ said he, ‘times all must keep;
There’s time to speak much, time as much to sleep.
But would you hear still, I will tell you still,
And utter more, more miserable, ill
Of friends than yet, that ’scaped the dismal wars,
And perish’d homewards, and in household jars
Wag’d by a wicked woman. The chaste queen
No sooner made these lady ghosts unseen,
Here and there fitting, but mine eye-sight won
The soul of Agamemnon, Atreus’ son,
Sad, and about him all his train of friends,
That in Aegisthus’ house endur’d their ends
With his stern fortune. Having drunk the blood,
He knew me instantly, and forth a flood
Of springing tears gush’d; out he thrust his hands,
With will t’ embrace me, but their old commands
Flow’d not about him, nor their weakest part.
I wept to see, and moan’d him from my heart,
And ask’d: ‘O Agamemnon! King of men!
What sort of cruel death hath render’d slain
Thy royal person? Neptune in thy fleet
Heav’n and his hellish billows making meet,
Rousing the winds? Or have thy men by land
Done thee this ill, for using thy command,
Past their consents, in diminution
Of those full shares their worths by lot had won
Of sheep or oxen? Or of any town,
In covetous strife, to make their rights thine own
In men or women prisoners?’ He replied:
‘By none of these in any right I died,
But by Aegisthus and my murderous wife
(Bid to a banquet at his house) my life
Hath thus been reft me, to my slaughter led
Like to an ox pretended to be fed.
So miserably fell I, and with me
My friends lay massacred, as when you see
At any rich man’s nuptials, shot, or feast,
About his kitchen white-tooth’d swine lie dress’d.
The slaughters of a world of men thine eyes,
Both private, and in prease of enemies,
Have personally witness’d; but this one
Would all thy parts have broken into moan,
To see how strew’d about our cups and cates,
As tables set with feast so we with fates,
All gash’d and slain lay, all the floor embru’d
With blood and brain. But that which most I ru’d,
Flew from the heavy voice that Priam’s seed,
Cassandra, breath’d, whom she that wit doth feed
With baneful crafts, false Clytemnestra, slew,
Close sitting by me; up my hands I threw
From earth to heav’n, and tumbling on my sword
Gave wretched life up; when the most abhorr’d,
By all her sex’s shame, forsook the room,
Nor deign’d, though then so near this heavy home,
To shut my lips, or close my broken eyes.
Nothing so heap’d is with impieties
As such a woman that would kill her spouse
That married her a maid, when to my house
I brought her, hoping of her love in heart,
To children, maids, and slaves. But she (in th’ art
Of only mischief hearty) not alone
Cast
on herself this foul aspersion,
But loving dames, hereafter, to their lords
Will bear, for good deeds, her bad thoughts and words.’
‘Alas,’ said I, ‘that Jove should hate the lives
Of Atreus’ seed so highly for their wives!
For Menelaus’ wife a number fell,
For dangerous absence thine sent thee to hell.’
‘For this,’ he answer’d, ‘be not thou more kind
Than wise to thy wife. Never all thy mind
Let words express to her. Of all she knows,
Curbs for the worst still in thyself repose.
But thou by thy wife’s wiles shalt lose no blood,
Exceeding wise she is, and wise in good.
Icarius’ daughter, chaste Penelope,
We left a young bride, when for battle we
Forsook the nuptial peace, and at her breast
Her first child sucking, who by this hour, blest
Sits in the number of surviving men.
And his bliss she hath, that she can contain,
And her bliss thou hast, that she is so wise.
For, by her wisdom, thy returned eyes
Shall see thy son, and he shall greet his sire
With fitting welcomes; when in my retire,
My wife denies mine eyes my son’s dear sight,
And, as from me, will take from him the light,
Before she adds one just delight to life,
Or her false wit one truth that fits a wife.
For her sake therefore let my harms advise,
That though thy wife be ne’er so chaste and wise,
Yet come not home to her in open view,
With any ship or any personal show,
But take close shore disguis’d, nor let her know,
For ’tis no world to trust a woman now.
But what says fame? Doth my son yet survive,
In Orchomen, or Pylos? Or doth live
In Sparta with his uncle? Yet I see
Divine Orestes is not here with me.’
I answer’d, asking: ‘Why doth Atreus’ son
Enquire of me, who yet arriv’d where none
Could give to these news any certain wings?
And ’tis absurd to tell uncertain things.’
Such sad speech pass’d us; and as thus we stood,
With kind tears rendering unkind fortunes good,
Achilles’ and Patroclus’ soul appear’d,
And his soul, of whom never ill was heard,
The good Antilochus, and the soul of him
That all the Greeks pass’d both for force and limb,
Excepting the unmatch’d Aeacides,
Illustrious Ajax. But the first of these