Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

by Alexander Pope

  The day shall come; nay, ‘t is already near,

  When, slave! to sell thee at a price too dear

  Must be my care; and hence transport thee o’er,

  A load and scandal to this happy shore.

  Oh that as surely great Apollo’s dart, 300

  Or some brave suitor’s sword, might pierce the heart

  Of the proud son, as that we stand this hour

  In lasting safety from the father’s power!’

  So spoke the wretch, but, shunning farther fray,

  Turn’d his proud step, and left them on their way. 305

  Straight to the feastful palace he repair’d,

  Familiar enter’d, and the banquet shared;

  Beneath Eurymachus, his patron lord,

  He took his place, and plenty heap’d the board.

  Meantime they heard, soft-circling in the sky, 310

  Sweet airs ascend, and heav’nly minstrelsy

  (For Phemius to the lyre attuned the strain):

  Ulysses hearken’d, then address’d the swain:

  ‘Well may this palace admiration claim,

  Great, and respondent to the master’s fame! 315

  Stage above stage th’ imperial structure stands,

  Holds the chief honours, and the town commands:

  High walls and battlements the courts inclose,

  And the strong gates defy a host of foes.

  Far other cares its dwellers now employ; 320

  The throng’d assembly and the feast of joy:

  I see the smokes of sacrifice aspire,

  And hear (what graces ev’ry feast) the lyre.’

  Then thus Eumæus: ‘Judge we which were best:

  Amidst yon revellers a sudden guest 325

  Choose you to mingle, while behind I stay?

  Or I first ent’ring introduce the way?

  Wait for a space without, but wait not long;

  This is the house of violence and wrong:

  Some rude insult thy rev’rend age may bear; 330

  For like their lawless lords the servants are.’

  ‘Just is, O Friend! thy caution, and address’d’

  (Replied the Chief) ‘to no unheedful breast:

  The wrongs and injuries of base mankind

  Fresh to my sense, and always in my mind. 335

  The bravely-patient to no fortune yields:

  On rolling oceans, and in fighting fields,

  Storms have I pass’d, and many a stern debate;

  And now in humbler scene submit to Fate.

  What cannot Want? The best she will expose, 340

  And I am learn’d in all her train of woes;

  She fills with navies, hosts, and loud alarms

  The sea, the land, and shakes the world with arms!’

  Thus near the gates conferring as they drew,

  Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew; 345

  He, not unconscious of the voice and tread,

  Lifts to the sound his ear, and rears his head;

  Bred by Ulysses, nourish’d at his board,

  But ah! not fated long to please his lord!

  To him, his swiftness and his strength were vain; 350

  The voice of glory call’d him o’er the main.

  Till then in ev’ry sylvan chase renown’d,

  With Argus, Argus, rung the woods around:

  With him the youth pursued the goat or fawn,

  Or traced the mazy lev’ret o’er the lawn. 355

  Now left to man’s ingratitude he lay,

  Unhous’d, neglected in the public way;

  And where on heaps the rich manure was spread,

  Obscene with reptiles, took his sordid bed.

  He knew his lord; he knew, and strove to meet; 360

  In vain he strove to crawl and kiss his feet;

  Yet (all he could) his tail, his ears, his eyes

  Salute his master, and confess his joys.

  Soft pity touch’d the mighty master’s soul;

  Adown his cheek a tear unbidden stole, 365

  Stole unperceiv’d; he turn’d his head and dried

  The drop humane; then thus impassion’d cried:

  ‘What noble beast in this abandon’d state

  Lies here all helpless at Ulysses’ gate?

  His bulk and beauty speak no vulgar praise: 370

  If, as he seems, he was in better days,

  Some care his age deserves; or was he prized

  For worthless beauty? therefore now despised:

  Such dogs and men there are, mere things of state:

  And always cherish’d by their friends, the great.’ 375

  ‘Not Argus so’ (Eumæus thus rejoin’d),

  ‘But serv’d a master of a nobler kind,

  Who never, never shall behold him more!

  Long, long since perish’d on a distant shore!

  Oh had you seen him, vig’rous, bold, and young, 380

  Swift as a stag, and as a lion strong:

  Him no fell savage on the plain withstood,

  None ‘scaped him bosom’d in the gloomy wood:

  His eye how piercing, and his scent how true,

  To wind the vapour in the tainted dew! 385

  Such, when Ulysses left his natal coast;

  Now years unnerve him, and his lord is lost!

  The women keep the gen’rous creature bare,

  A sleek and idle race is all their care:

  The master gone, the servants what restrains? 390

  Or dwells humanity where riot reigns?

  Jove fix’d it certain, that whatever day

  Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.’

  This said, the honest herdsman strode before:

  The musing Monarch pauses at the door: 395

  The dog, whom Fate had granted to behold

  His lord, when twenty tedious years had roll’d,

  Takes a last look, and, having seen him, dies:

  So closed for ever faithful Argus’ eyes!

  And now Telemachus, the first of all, 400

  Observ’d Eumæus ent’ring in the hall;

  Distant he saw, across the shady dome;

  Then gave a sign, and beckon’d him to come.

  There stood an empty seat, where late was placed,

  In order due, the steward of the feast 405

  (Who now was busied carving round the board);

  Eumæus took, and placed it near his lord.

  Before him instant was the banquet spread,

  And the bright basket piled with loaves of bread;

  Next came Ulysses lowly at the door, 410

  A figure despicable, old, and poor,

  In squalid vests, with many a gaping rent,

  Propp’d on a staff, and trembling as he went.

  Then resting on the threshold of the gate,

  Against a cypress pillar lean’d his weight 415

  (Smooth’d by the workman to a polish’d plane);

  The thoughtful son beheld, and call’d his swain:

  ‘These viands, and this bread, Eumæus! bear,

  And let you mendicant our plenty share:

  Then let him circle round the suitors’ board, 420

  And try the bounty of each gracious lord.

  Bold let him ask, encouraged thus by me;

  How ill, alas! do want and shame agree!’

  His lord’s command the faithful servant bears:

  The seeming beggar answers with his prayers: 425

  ‘Bless’d be Telemachus! in ev’ry deed

  Inspire him, Jove! in ev’ry wish succeed!’

  This said, the portion from his son convey’d

  With smiles receiving on his scrip he laid.

  Long as the minstrel swept the sounding wire, 430

  He fed, and ceas’d when silence held the lyre

  Soon as the suitors from the banquet rose,

  Minerva prompts the man of mighty rose,

  To tempt their bounties with a suppliant’s ar
t,

  And learn the gen’rous from th’ ignoble heart 435

  (Not but his soul, resentful as humane,

  Dooms to full vengeance all th’ offending train);

  With speaking eyes, and voice of plaintive sound,

  Humble he moves, imploring all around.

  The proud feel pity, and relief bestow, 440

  With such an image touch’d of human woe;

  Inquiring all, their wonder they confess,

  And eye the man, majestic in distress.

  While thus they gaze and question with their eyes,

  The bold Melanthius to their thought replies: 445

  ‘My lords! this stranger of gigantic port

  The good Eumæus usher’d to your court.

  Full well I mark’d the features of his face,

  Tho’ all unknown his clime, or noble race.’

  ‘And is this present, swineherd! of thy hand? 450

  Bring’st thou these vagrants to infest the land?’

  (Returns Antinoüs with retorted eye)

  ‘Objects uncouth, to check the genial joy?

  Enough of these our court already grace,

  Of giant stomach, and of famish’d face. 455

  Such guests Eumæus to his country brings,

  To share our feast, and lead the life of Kings.’

  To whom the hospitable swain rejoin’d:

  ‘Thy passion, Prince, belies thy knowing mind.

  Who calls, from distant nations to his own, 460

  The poor, distinguish’d by their wants alone?

  Round the wide world are sought those men divine

  Who public structures raise, or who design;

  Those to whose eyes the Gods their ways reveal,

  Or bless with salutary arts to heal; 465

  But chief to poets such respect belongs,

  By rival nations courted for their songs:

  These states invite, and mighty Kings admire,

  Wide as the sun displays his vital fire.

  It is not so with want! how few that feed 470

  A wretch unhappy, merely for his need!

  Unjust to me, and all that serve the state,

  To love Ulysses is to raise thy hate.

  For me, suffice the approbation won

  Of my great mistress, and her godlike son.’ 475

  To him Telemachus: ‘No more incense

  The man by nature prone to insolence;

  Injurious minds just answers but provoke:’

  Then, turning to Antinoüs, thus he spoke:

  ‘Thanks to thy care! whose absolute command 480

  Thus drives the stranger from our court and land.

  Heav’n bless its owner with a better mind!

  From envy free, to charity inclin’d.

  This both Penelope and I afford:

  Then, Prince! be bounteous of Ulysses’ board. 485

  To give another’s is thy hand so slow?

  So much more sweet to spoil than to bestow?’

  ‘Whence, great Telemachus! this lofty strain?’

  (Antinoüs cries with insolent disdain)

  ‘Portions like mine if ev’ry suitor gave, 490

  Our walls this twelvemonth should not see the slave.’

  He spoke, and lifting high above the board

  His pond’rous footstool, shook it at his lord.

  The rest with equal hand conferr’d the bread;

  He fill’d his scrip, and to the threshold sped; 495

  But first before Antinoüs stopp’d, and said:

  ‘Bestow, my Friend! thou dost not seem the worst

  Of all the Greeks, but prince-like and the first;

  Then, as in dignity, be first in worth,

  And I shall praise thee thro’ the boundless earth. 500

  Once I enjoy’d in luxury of state

  Whate’er gives man the envied name of great;

  Wealth, servants, friends, were mine in better days;

  And hospitality was then my praise;

  In ev’ry sorrowing soul I pour’d delight, 505

  And Poverty stood smiling in my sight.

  But Jove, all-governing, whose only will

  Determines Fate, and mingles good with ill,

  Sent me (to punish my pursuit of gain)

  With roving pirates o’er th’ Ægyptian main: 510

  By Ægypt’s silver flood our ships we moor;

  Our spies commission’d straight the coast explore;

  But, impotent of mind, with lawless will

  The country ravage and the natives kill.

  The spreading clamour to their city flies, 515

  And horse and foot in mingled tumult rise:

  The redd’ning dawn reveals the hostile fields

  Horrid with bristly spears, and gleaming shields:

  Jove thunder’d on their side: our guilty head

  We turn’d to flight; the gath’ring vengeance spread 520

  On all parts round, and heaps on heaps lay dead.

  Some few the foe in servitude detain;

  Death ill-exchanged for bondage and for pain!

  Unhappy me a Cyprian took aboard,

  And gave to Dmetor, Cyprus’ haughty lord: 525

  Hither, to ‘scape his chains, my course I steer,

  Still curs’d by fortune, and insulted here!’

  To whom Antinoüs thus his rage express’d:

  ‘What God has plagued us with this gormand guest?

  Unless at distance, Wretch! thou keep behind, 530

  Another isle, than Cyprus more unkind,

  Another Ægypt, shalt thou quickly find.

  From all thou begg’st, a bold audacious slave;

  Nor all can give so much as thou canst crave.

  Nor wonder I at such profusion shown; 535

  Shameless they give, who give what ‘s not their own.’

  The Chief, retiring, ‘Souls, like that in thee,

  Ill suit such forms of grace and dignity.

  Nor will that hand to utmost need afford

  The smallest portion of a wasteful board, 540

  Whose luxury whole patrimonies sweeps,

  Yet starving want, amidst the riot, weeps.’

  The haughty suitor with resentment burns,

  And, sourly smiling, this reply returns:

  ‘Take that, ere yet thou quit this princely throng; 545

  And dumb for ever be thy sland’rous tongue!’

  He said, and high the whirling tripod flung.

  His shoulder-blade receiv’d th’ ungentle shock:

  He stood, and moved not, like a marble rock;

  But shook his thoughtful head, nor more complain’d, 550

  Sedate of soul, his character sustain’d,

  And inly form’d revenge: then back withdrew:

  Before his feet the well-fill’d scrip he threw,

  And thus with semblance mild address’d the crew:

  ‘May what I speak your princely minds approve, 555

  Ye Peers and Rivals in this noble love!

  Not for the hurt I grieve, but for the cause.

  If, when the sword our country’s quarrel draws,

  Or if, defending what is justly dear,

  From Mars impartial some broad wound we bear, 560

  The gen’rous motive dignifies the scar.

  But for mere want, how hard to suffer wrong!

  Want brings enough of other ills along!

  Yet, if unjustice never be secure,

  If fiends revenge, and Gods assert the poor, 565

  Death shall lay low the proud aggressor’s head,

  And make the dust Antinoüs’ bridal bed.’

  ‘Peace, wretch! and eat thy bread without offence’

  (The suitor cried), ‘or force shall drag thee hence,

  Scourge thro’ the public street, and cast thee there, 570

  A mangled carcass for the hounds to tear.’

  His furious deed the gen’ral anger mov’d;

  All, ev’
n the worst, condemn’d: and some reprov’d.

  ‘Was ever Chief for wars like these renown’d?

  Ill fits the stranger and the poor to wound. 575

  Unbless’d thy hand, if, in this low disguise,

  Wander, perhaps, some inmate of the skies:

  They (curious oft of mortal actions) deign

  In forms like these to round the earth and main,

  Just and unjust recording in their mind, 580

  And with sure eyes inspecting all mankind.’

  Telemachus, absorb’d in thought severe,

  Nourish’d deep anguish, tho’ he shed no tear;

  But the dark brow of silent sorrow shook:

  While thus his mother to her virgins spoke: 585

  ‘On him and his may the bright God of Day

  That base inhospitable blow repay!’

  The nurse replies: ‘If Jove receives my prayer,

  Not one survives to breathe to-morrow’s air.’

  ‘All, all are foes, and mischief is their end; 590

  Antinoüs most to gloomy death a friend’

  (Replies the Queen): ‘the stranger begg’d their grace,

  And melting pity soften’d ev’ry face;

  From ev’ry other hand redress he found,

  But fell Antinoüs answer’d with a wound.’ 595

  Amidst her maids thus spoke the prudent Queen,

  Then bade Eumæus call the pilgrim in.

  ‘Much of th’ experienc’d man I long to hear,

  If or his certain eye, or list’ning ear,

  Have learn’d the fortunes of my wand’ring lord?’ 600

  Thus she, and good Eumæus took the word:

  ‘A private audience if thy grace impart,

  The stranger’s words may ease the royal heart.

  His sacred eloquence in balm distils,

  And the soothed heart with secret pleasure fills. 605

  Three days have spent their beams, three nights have run

  Their silent journey since his tale begun,

  Unfinish’d yet; and yet I thirst to hear!

  As when some Heav’n-taught poet charms the ear

  (Suspending sorrow with celestial strain 610

  Breathed from the Gods to soften human pain),

  Time steals away with unregarded wing,

  And the soul hears him, tho’ he cease to sing.

  ‘Ulysses late he saw, on Cretan ground

  (His father’s guest), for Minos’ birth renown’d. 615

  He now but waits the wind, to waft him o’er,

  With boundless treasure, from Thesprotia’s shore.’

  To this the Queen: ‘The wand’rer let me hear,

  While yon luxurious race indulge their cheer,

  Devour the grazing ox, and browsing goat, 620

  And turn my gen’rous vintage down their throat.

  For where ‘s an arm, like thine, Ulysses! strong,