The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)

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The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) Page 112

by Homer


  His heels lay sprawling. Up the hands went round

  Of all the wooers, all at point to die

  With violent laughters. Then the king did ply

  The beggar’s feet, and dragg’d him forth the hall,

  Along the entry, to the gates and wall;

  Where leaving him, he put into his hand

  A staff, and bade him there use his command

  On swine and dogs, and not presume to be

  Lord of the guests, or of the beggary,

  Since he of all men was the scum and curse;

  And so bade please with that, or fare yet worse.

  Then cast he on his scrip, all patch’d and rent,

  Hung by a rotten cord, and back he went

  To greet the entry’s threshold with his seat.

  The wooers throng’d to him, and did entreat

  With gentle words his conquest, laughing still,

  Pray’d Jove and all the gods to give his will

  What most it wish’d him and would joy him most,

  Since he so happily had clear’d their coast

  Of that unsavoury morsel; whom they vow’d

  To see with all their utmost haste bestow’d

  Aboard a ship, and for Epirus sent

  To King Echetus, on whose throne was spent

  The worst man’s seat that breath’d. And thus was grac’d

  Divine Ulysses, who with joy embrac’d

  Ev’n that poor conquest. Then was set to him

  The goodly goat’s breast promis’d (that did swim

  In fat and gravy) by Antinous.

  And from a basket, by Amphinomus,

  Were two breads giv’n him; who, besides, renown’d

  His banquet with a golden goblet crown’d,

  And this high salutation: ‘Frolic, guest,

  And be those riches that you first possest

  Restored again with full as many joys,

  As in your poor state I see now annoys.’

  ‘Amphinomus,’ said he, ‘you seem to me

  Exceeding wise, as being the progeny

  Of such a father as authentic fame

  Hath told me was so, one of honour’d name,

  And great revenues in Dulichius,

  His fair name Nisus. He is blazon’d thus,

  And you to be his son, his wisdom heiring,

  As well as wealth, his state in nought impairing.

  To prove which, always, let me tell you this

  (As warning you to shun the miseries

  That follow full states, if they be not held

  With wisdom still at full, and so compell’d

  To courses that abode not in their brows,

  By too much swing, their sudden overthrows):

  Of all things breathing, or that creep on earth,

  Nought is more wretched than a human birth.

  Bless’d men think never they can cursed be,

  While any power lasts to move a knee.

  But when the bless’d gods make them feel that smart,

  That fled their faith so, as they had no heart

  They bear their suff’rings, and, what well they might

  Have clearly shunn’d, they then meet in despite.

  The mind of man flies still out of his way,

  Unless god guide and prompt it every day.

  I thought me once a blessed man with men,

  And fashion’d me to all so counted then,

  Did all injustice like them, what for lust

  Or any pleasure never so unjust,

  I could by pow’r or violence obtain,

  And gave them both in all their pow’rs the rein,

  Bold of my fathers and my brothers still;

  While which held good, my arts seem’d never ill.

  And thus is none held simply good or bad,

  But as his will is either miss’d or had.

  All goods god’s gifts man calls, howe’er he gets them,

  And so takes all, what price soe’er god sets them,

  Says nought how ill they come, nor will control

  That ravine in him, though it cost his soul.

  And these parts here I see these wooers play,

  Take all that falls, and all dishonours lay

  On that man’s queen, that, tell your friends, doth bear

  No long time’s absence, but is passing near.

  Let god then guide thee home, lest he may meet

  In his return thy undeparted feet;

  For when he enters, and sees men so rude,

  The quarrel cannot but in blood conclude.’

  This said, he sacrific’d, then drunk, and then

  Referr’d the giv’n bowl to the guide of men;

  Who walk’d away, afflicted at his heart,

  Shook head, and fear’d that these facts would convert

  To ill in th’ end; yet had not grace to fly –

  Minerva stay’d him, being ordain’d to die

  Upon the lance of young Ulyssides.

  So down he sat; and then did Pallas please

  T’ incline the queen’s affections to appear

  To all the wooers, to extend their cheer

  To th’ utmost lightning that still ushers death,

  And made her put on as the painted sheath,

  That might both set her wooers’ fancies high,

  And get her greater honour in the eye

  Ev’n of her son and sovereign than before.

  Who laughing yet, to show her humour bore

  No serious appetite to that light show,

  She told Eurynome, that not till now

  She ever knew her entertain desire

  To please her wooers’ eyes, but oft on fire

  She set their hate, in keeping from them still;

  Yet now she pleased t’ appear, though from no will

  To do them honour, vowing she would tell

  Her son that of them that should fit him well

  To make use of; which was, not to converse

  Too freely with their pride, nor to disperse

  His thoughts amongst them, since they us’d to give

  Good words, but through them ill intents did drive.

  Eurynome replied: ‘With good advise

  You vow his counsel, and your open guise.

  Go then, advise your son, nor keep more close

  Your cheeks, still drown’d in your eyes’ overflows,

  But bathe your body, and with balms make clear

  Your thicken’d count’nance. Uncomposed cheer,

  And ever mourning, will the marrow wear.

  Nor have you cause to mourn; your son hath now

  Put on that virtue which in chief your vow

  Wish’d, as your blessing at his birth, might deck

  His blood and person.’ ‘But forbear to speak

  Of baths, or balmings, or of beauty, now,’

  The queen replied, ‘lest, urging comforts, you

  Discomfort much, because the gods have won

  The spoil of my looks since my lord was gone.

  But these must serve. Call hither then to me

  Hippodamia and Autonoë,

  That those our train additions may supply

  Our own deserts. And yet, besides, not I,

  With all my age, have learn’d the boldness yet

  T’ expose myself to men, unless I get

  Some other gracers.’ This said, forth she went

  To call the ladies, and much spirit spent

  To make their utmos
t speed, for now their queen

  Would both herself show, and make them be seen.

  But now Minerva other projects laid,

  And through Icarius’ daughter’s veins convey’d

  Sweet sleep’s desire; in whose soft fumes involv’d

  She was as soon as laid, and quite dissolv’d

  Were all her lineaments. The goddess then

  Bestow’d immortal gifts on her, that men

  Might wonder at her beauties; and the beams

  That glister in the deified supremes

  She clear’d her mourning count’nance up withal.

  Ev’n such a radiance as doth round empall

  Crown’d Cytherea, when her order’d places

  Conduct the bevy of the dancing Graces,

  She added to her own, more plump, more high,

  And fairer than the polish’d ivory,

  Rend’ring her parts and presence. This grace done,

  Away the deity flew; and up did run

  Her lovely-wristed ladies, with a noise

  That blew the soft chains from her sleeping joys;

  When she her fair eyes wip’d, and, gasping, said:

  ‘O me unblest! How deep a sweet sleep spread

  His shades about me! Would Diana pleas’d

  To shoot me with a death no more diseas’d,

  As soon as might be, that no more my moan

  Might waste my blood in weepings never done,

  For want of that accomplish’d virtue spher’d

  In my lov’d lord, to all the Greeks preferr’d!’

  Then she descended with her maids, and took

  Place in the portal; whence her beamy look

  Reach’d ev’ry wooer’s heart; yet cast she on

  So thin a veil, that through it quite there shone

  A grace so stol’n, it pleas’d above the clear,

  And sunk the knees of every wooer there,

  Their minds so melted in love’s vehement fires,

  That to her bed she heighten’d all desires.

  The prince then coming near, she said: ‘O son,

  Thy thoughts and judgments have not yet put on

  That constancy in what becomes their good,

  Which all expect in thee. Thy younger blood

  Did sparkle choicer spirits; but, arriv’d

  At this full growth, wherein their form hath thriv’d

  Beyond the bounds of childhood, and when now,

  Beholders should affirm “This man doth grow

  Like to the rare son of his matchless sire –

  His goodliness, his beauty, and his fire

  Of soul aspired to,” thou mak’st nothing good

  Thy fate, nor fortune, nor thy height of blood,

  In manage of thy actions. What a deed

  Of foul desert hath thy gross suff’rance freed

  Beneath thine own roof! A poor stranger here

  Us’d most unmanly! How will this appear

  To all the world, when Fame shall trumpet out,

  That thus, and thus, are our guests beat about

  Our court unrighted? ’Tis a blaze will show

  Extremely shameful to your name and you.’

  ‘I blame you not, O mother,’ he replied,

  ‘That this clear wrong sustain’d by me, you chide;

  Yet know I both the good and bad of all,

  Being past the years in which young errors fall.

  But, all this known, skill is not so exact

  To give, when once it knows, things fit their fact.

  I well may doubt the prease of strangers here,

  Who, bent to ill, and only my nerves near,

  May do it in despite. And yet the jar

  Betwixt our guest and Irus was no war

  Wrought by the wooers; nor our guest sustain’d

  Wrong in that action, but the conquest gain’d.

  And would to Jove, Minerva, and the Sun,

  That all your wooers might serve contention

  For such a purchase as the beggar made,

  And wore such weak heads! Some should death invade,

  Strew’d in the entry, some embrue the hall,

  Till every man had vengeance capital,

  Settled like Irus at the gates, his head

  Every way nodding, like one forfeited

  To reeling Bacchus, knees nor feet his own,

  To bear him where he’s better lov’d or known.’

  Their speeches giv’n this end, Eurymachus

  Began his courtship, and express’d it thus:

  ‘Most wise Icarius’ daughter! If all those,

  That did for Colchos’ vent’rous sail dispose

  For that rich purchase, had before but seen

  Earth’s richer prize in th’ Ithacensian queen,

  They had not made that voyage, but to you

  Would all their virtues and their beings vow.

  Should all the world know what a worth you store,

  Tomorrow than today and next light, more

  Your court should banquet, since to all dames you

  Are far preferr’d, both for the grace of show,

  In stature, beauty, form in every kind

  Of all parts outward, and for faultless mind.’

  ‘Alas,’ said she, ‘my virtue, body, form,

  The gods have blasted with that only storm

  That ravish’d Greece to Ilion, since my lord,

  For that war shipp’d, bore all my goods aboard.

  If he, return’d, should come and govern here

  My life’s whole state, the grace of all things there

  His guide would heighten, as the spirit it bore,

  Which dead in me lives, giv’n him long before.

  A sad course I live now; heav’n’s stern decree

  With many an ill hath numb’d and deaded me.

  He took life with him, when he took my hand

  In parting from me to the Trojan strand,

  These words my witness: “Woman! I conceive

  That not all th’ Achives bound for Troy shall leave

  Their native earth their safe returned bones,

  Fame saying that Troy trains up approved sons

  In deeds of arms, brave putters-off of shafts,

  For winging lances masters of their crafts,

  Unmatched riders, swift of foot, and straight

  Can arbitrate a war of deadliest weight.

  Hope then can scarce fill all with life’s supply,

  And of all any failing, why not I?

  Nor do I know, if god hath marshall’d me

  Amongst the safe-return’d, or his decree

  Hath left me to the thraldom order’d there.

  However, all cares be thy burthens here,

  My sire and mother tend as much as now;

  I further off, more near in cares be you.

  Your son to man’s state grown, wed whom you will

  And, you gone, his care let his household fill.”

  Thus made my lord his will, which heav’n sees prov’d

  Almost at all parts; for the sun remov’d

  Down to his set, ere long will lead the night

  Of those abhorred nuptials, that should fright

  Each worthy woman, which her second are

  With any man that breathes, her first lord’s care

  Dead, because he to flesh and blood is dead;

  Which, I fear, I shall yield to, and so wed

  A second husband; and my reason is,

  Since Jov
e hath taken from me all his bliss.

  Whom god gives over they themselves forsake,

  Their griefs their joys, their god their devil, make.

  And ’tis a great grief, nor was seen till now

  In any fashion of such men as woo

  A good and wealthy woman, and contend

  Who shall obtain her, that those men should spend

  Her beeves and best sheep, as their chiefest ends,

  But rather that herself and all her friends

  They should with banquets and rich gifts entreat.

  Their life is death that live with other’s meat.’

  Divine Ulysses much rejoic’d to hear

  His queen thus fish for gifts, and keep in cheer

  Their hearts with hope that she would wed again,

  Her mind yet still her first intent retain.

  Antinous saw the wooers won to give,

  And said: ‘Wise queen, by all your means receive

  Whatever bounty any wooer shall use.

  Gifts freely given ’tis folly to refuse.

  For know, that we resolve not to be gone

  To keep our own roofs, till of all some one,

  Whom best you like, your long-woo’d love shall win.’

  This pleas’d the rest, and every one sent in

  His present by the herald. First had place

  Antinous’ gift: a robe of special grace,

  Exceeding full and fair, and twenty hues

  Changed lustre to it; to which choice of shows,

  Twelve massy plated buttons, all of gold,

  Enrich’d the substance, made to fairly hold

  The robe together, all lac’d down before,

  Where keeps and catches both sides of it wore.

  Eurymachus a golden tablet gave,

  In which did art her choicest works engrave;

  And round about an amber verge did run,

  That cast a radiance from it like the sun.

  Eurydamas two servants had, that bore

  Two goodly earrings, whose rich hollows wore

  Three pearls in either, like so many eyes,

  Reflecting glances radiant as the skies.

  The king Pisander, great Polyctor’s heir,

  A casket gave, exceeding rich and fair.

  The other other wealthy gifts commended

  To her fair hand; which took, and straight ascended

  This goddess of her sex her upper state,

  Her ladies all her gifts elaborate

  Up bearing after. All to dancing then

  The wooers went, and song’s delightful strain;

  In which they frolick’d, till the evening came,

  And then rais’d sable Hesperus his flame.

 

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