To curb wild riot, and to punish wrong?’
She spoke. Telemachus then sneez’d aloud;
Constrain’d, his nostril echoed thro’ the crowd. 625
The smiling Queen the happy omen bless’d:
‘So may these impious fall, by Fate oppress’d!’
Then to Eumæus: ‘Bring the stranger, fly!
And if my questions meet a true reply,
Graced with a decent robe he shall retire, 630
A gift in season which his wants require.’
Thus spoke Penelope. Eumæus flies
In duteous haste, and to Ulysses cries:
‘The Queen invites thee, venerable Guest!
A secret instinct moves her troubled breast, 635
Of her long absent lord from thee to gain
Some light, and soothe her soul’s eternal pain.
If true, if faithful thou, her grateful mind
Of decent robes a present has design’d:
So finding favour in the royal eye, 640
Thy other wants her subjects shall supply.’
‘Fair truth alone’ (the patient man replied)
‘My words shall dictate, and my lips shall guide.
To him, to me, one common lot was giv’n,
In equal woes, alas! involv’d by Heav’n. 645
Much of his fates I know: but check’d by fear
I stand; the hand of violence is here:
Here boundless wrongs the starry skies invade,
And injured suppliants seek in vain for aid.
Let for a space the pensive Queen attend, 650
Nor claim my story till the sun descend;
Then in such robes as suppliants may require,
Composed and cheerful by the genial fire,
When loud uproar and lawless riot cease,
Shall her pleas’d ear receive my words in peace.’ 655
Swift to the Queen returns the gentle swain:
‘And say’ (she cries), ‘does fear, or shame, detain
The cautious stranger? With the begging kind
Shame suits but ill.’ Eumæus thus rejoin’d:
‘He only asks a more propitious hour, 660
And shuns (who would not?) wicked men in power;
At ev’ning mild (meet season to confer),
By turns to question, and by turns to hear.’
‘Whoe’er this guest’ (the prudent Queen replies),
‘His ev’ry step and ev’ry thought is wise. 665
For men like these on earth he shall not find
In all the miscreant race of human kind.’
Thus she. Eumæus all her words attends,
And, parting, to the suitor powers descends;
There seeks Telemachus, and thus apart 670
In whispers breathes the fondness of his heart:
‘The time, my lord, invites me to repair
Hence to the lodge; my charge demands my care.
These sons of murder thirst thy life to take;
O guard it, guard it, for thy servants’ sake!’ 675
‘Thanks to my friend’ (he cries); ‘but now the hour
Of night draws on; go seek the rural bower:
But first refresh; and at the dawn of day
Hither a victim to the Gods convey.
Our life to Heav’n’s immortal Powers we trust, 680
Safe in their care, for Heav’n protects the just.’
Observant of his voice, Eumæus sate,
And fed recumbent on a chair of state.
Then instant rose, and, as he mov’d along,
‘T was riot all amid the suitor throng: 685
They feast, they dance, and raise the mirthful song.
Till now, declining toward the close of day,
The sun obliquely shot his dewy ray.
Odyssey Book XXI. The Bending of Ulysses’ Bow
THE ARGUMENT
Penelope, to put an end to the solicitations of the suitors, proposes to marry the person who shall first bend the bow of Ulysses, and shoot through the ringlets. After their attempts have proved ineffectual, Ulysses, taking Eumæus and Philætius apart, discovers himself to them; then returning, desires leave to try his strength at the bow, which, though refused with indignation by the suitors, Penelope and Telemachus cause to be delivered to his hands. He bends it immediately, and shoots through all the rings. Jupiter at the same instant thunders from heaven; Ulysses accepts the omen, and gives a sign to Telemachus, who stands ready armed at his side.
AND Pallas now, to raise the rivals’ fires,
With her own art Penelope inspires:
Who now can bend Ulysses’ bow, and wing
The well-aim’d arrow thro’ the distant ring,
Shall end the strife, and win th’ imperial dame; 5
But discord and black death await the game!
The prudent Queen the lofty stair ascends;
At distance due a virgin-train attends:
A brazen key she held, the handle turn’d,
With steel and polish’d elephant adorn’d: 10
Swift to the inmost room she bent her way,
Where, safe reposed, the royal treasures lay;
There shone high heap’d the labour’d brass and ore,
And there the bow which great Ulysses bore;
And there the quiver, where now guiltless slept 15
Those winged deaths that many a matron wept.
This gift, long since when Sparta’s shores he trod,
On young Ulysses Iphitus bestow’d:
Beneath Orsilochus’s roof they met;
One loss was private, one a public debt; 20
Messena’s state from Ithaca detains
Three hundred sheep, and all the shepherd swains;
And to the youthful Prince to urge the laws,
The King and elders trust their common cause.
But Iphitus, employ’d on other cares, 25
Search’d the wide country for his wand’ring mares,
And mules, the strongest of the lab’ring kind;
Hapless to search! more hapless still to find!
For journeying on to Hercules, at length
That lawless wretch, that man of brutal strength, 30
Deaf to Heav’n’s voice, the social rite transgress’d;
And for the beauteous mares destroy’d his guest.
He gave the bow; and on Ulysses’ part
Receiv’d a pointed sword, and missile dart:
Of luckless friendship on a foreign shore 35
Their first, last pledges! for they met no more.
The bow, bequeath’d by this unhappy hand,
Ulysses bore not from his native land;
Nor in the front of battle taught to bend,
But kept in dear memorial of his friend. 40
Now, gently winding up the far ascent,
By many an easy step, the matron went;
Then o’er the pavement glides with grace divine
(With polish’d oak the level pavements shine);
The folding gates a dazzling light display’d, 45
With pomp of various architrave o’erlaid.
The bolt, obedient to the silken string,
Forsakes the staple as she pulls the ring;
The wards respondent to the key turn round;
The bars fall back; the flying valves resound; 50
Loud as a bull makes hill and valley ring,
So roar’d the lock when it releas’d the spring.
She moves majestic thro’ the wealthy room,
Where treasured garments cast a rich perfume;
There from the column, where aloft it hung, 55
Reach’d, in its splendid case, the bow unstrung;
Across her knees she laid the well-known bow,
And pensive sate, and tears began to flow.
To full satiety of grief she mourns,
Then silent to the joyous hall returns; 60
To the proud suitors bears in pensi
ve state
Th’ unbended bow, and arrows wing’d with fate.
Behind, her train the polish’d coffer brings,
Which held th’ alternate brass and silver rings.
Full in the portal the chaste Queen appears, 65
And with her veil conceals the coming tears:
On either side awaits a virgin fair;
While thus the matron, with majestic air:
‘Say you, whom these forbidden walls inclose,
For whom my victims bleed, my vintage flows, 70
If these neglected, faded charms can move?
Or is it but a vain pretence you love?
If I the prize, if me you seek to wife,
Hear the conditions, and commence the strife.
Who first Ulysses’ wondrous bow shall bend, 75
And thro’ twelve ringlets the fleet arrow send,
Him will I follow, and forsake my home,
For him forsake this lov’d, this wealthy dome,
Long, long the scene of all my past delight,
And still to last the vision of my night!’ 80
Graceful she said, and bade Eumæus show
The rival Peers the ringlets and the bow.
From his full eyes the tears unbidden spring,
Touch’d at the dear memorials of his King.
Philætius too relents, but secret shed 85
The tender drops. Antinoüs saw, and said:
‘Hence to your fields, ye Rustics! hence away,
Nor stain with grief the pleasures of the day:
Nor to the royal heart recall in vain
The sad remembrance of a perish’d man. 90
Enough her precious tears already flow:
Or share the feast with due respect, or go
To weep abroad, and leave to us the bow:
No vulgar task! Ill suits this courtly crew
That stubborn horn which brave Ulysses drew. 95
I well remember (for I gazed him o’er
While yet a child), what majesty he bore!
And still (all infant as I was) retain
The port, the strength, the grandeur of the man.’
He said, but in his soul fond joys arise, 100
And his proud hopes already win the prize
To speed the flying shaft thro’ ev’ry ring,
Wretch! is not thine: the arrows of the King
Shall end those hopes, and fate is on the wing!
Then thus Telemachus: ‘Some God I find 105
With pleasing frenzy has possess’d my mind;
When a lov’d mother threatens to depart,
Why with this ill-timed gladness leaps my heart?
Come then, ye suitors! and dispute a prize
Richer than all th’ Achaian state supplies, 110
Than all proud Argos or Mycæne knows,
Than all our isles or continents inclose:
A woman matchless, and almost divine,
Fit for the praise of ev’ry tongue but mine.
No more excuses then, no more delay; 115
Haste to the trial — Lo! I lead the way.
‘I too may try, and if this arm can wing
The feather’d arrow thro’ the destin’d ring,
Then, if no happier knight the conquest boast,
I shall not sorrow for a mother lost; 120
But, bless’d in her, possess these arms alone,
Heir of my father’s strength, as well as throne.’
He spoke; then, rising, his broad sword unbound,
And cast his purple garment on the ground.
A trench he open’d; in a line he placed 125
The level axes, and the points made fast.
(His perfect skill the wond’ring gazers eyed,
The game as yet unseen, as yet untried.)
Then, with a manly pace, he took his stand,
And grasp’d the bow, and twang’d it in his hand. 130
Three times, with beating heart, he made essay;
Three times, unequal to the task, gave way;
A modest boldness on his cheek appear’d;
And thrice he hoped, and thrice again he fear’d.
The fourth had drawn it. The great Sire with joy 135
Beheld, but with a sign forbade the boy.
His ardour straight th’ obedient Prince suppress’d,
And, artful, thus the suitor-train address’d:
‘O lay the cause on youth yet immature
(For Heav’n forbid such weakness should endure)! 140
How shall this arm, unequal to the bow,
Retort an insult, or repel a foe?
But you! whom Heav’n with better nerves has bless’d,
Accept the trial, and the prize contest.’
He cast the bow before him, and apart 145
Against the polish’d quiver propp’d the dart.
Resuming then his seat, Eupithes’ son,
The bold Antinoüs, to the rest begun:
‘From where the goblet first begins to flow,
From right to left in order take the bow; 150
And prove your sev’ral strengths.’ — The Princes heard,
And first Leiodes, blameless priest, appear’d:
The eldest born of Œnops’ noble race,
Who next the goblet held his holy place;
He, only he, of all the suitor throng, 155
Their deeds detested, and abjured the wrong.
With tender hands the stubborn horn he strains,
The stubborn horn resisted all his pains!
Already in despair he gives it o’er:
‘Take it who will’ (he cries), ‘I strive no more. 160
What numerous deaths attend this fatal bow!
What souls and spirits shall it send below!
Better, indeed, to die, and fairly give
Nature her debt, than disappointed live,
With each new sun to some new hope a prey, 165
Yet still to-morrow falser than to-day.
How long in vain Penelope we sought!
This bow shall ease us of that idle thought,
And send us with some humbler wife to live,
Whom gold shall gain, or destiny shall give.’ 170
Thus speaking, on the floor the bow he placed
(With rich inlay the various floor was graced);
At distance far the feather’d shaft he throws,
And to the seat returns from whence he rose.
To him Antinoüs thus with fury said: 175
‘What words ill-omen’d from thy lips have fled?
Thy coward-function ever is in fear;
Those arms are dreadful which thou canst not bear.
Why should this bow be fatal to the brave,
Because the priest is born a peaceful slave? 180
Mark then what others can.’ He ended there,
And bade Melanthius a vast pile prepare;
He gives it instant flame, then fast beside
Spreads o’er an ample board a bullock’s hide.
With melted lard they soak the weapon o’er, 185
Chafe ev’ry knot, and supple ev’ry pore.
Vain all their art, and all their strength as vain:
The bow inflexible resists their pain.
The force of great Eurymachus alone,
And bold Antinoüs, yet untried, unknown, 190
Those only now remain’d; but those confess’d
Of all the train the mightiest and the best.
Then from the hall, and from the noisy crew,
The masters of the herd and flock withdrew.
The King observes them; he the hall forsakes, 195
And past the limits of the court o’ertakes.
Then thus with accent mild Ulysses spoke:
‘Ye faithful guardians of the herd and flock!
Shall I the secret of my breast conceal,
Or (as my soul now dictates) shall I tell? 200
Say, should some fav’ring God r
estore again
The lost Ulysses to his native reign,
How beat your hearts? what aid would you afford
To the proud suitors, or your ancient lord?’
Philætius thus: ‘O were thy word not vain! 205
Would mighty Jove restore that man again!
These aged sinews, with new vigour strung,
In his blest cause should emulate the young.’
With equal vows Eumæus too implor’d
Each power above, with wishes for his lord. 210
He saw their secret souls, and thus began:
‘Those vows the Gods accord; behold the man!
Your own Ulysses! twice ten years detain’d
By woes and wand’rings from this hapless land:
At length he comes; but comes despised, unknown, 215
And finding faithful you, and you alone.
All else have cast him from their very thought,
Ev’n in their wishes and their prayers forgot!
Hear then, my friends: If Jove this arm succeed,
And give yon impious revellers to bleed, 220
My care shall be to bless your future lives
With large possessions and with faithful wives:
Fast by my palace shall your domes ascend,
And each on young Telemachus attend,
And each be call’d his brother and my friend. 225
To give you firmer faith, now trust your eye;
Lo! the broad scar indented on my thigh,
When with Autolycus’s sons, of yore,
On Parnass’ top I chased the tusky boar.’
His ragged vest then drawn aside, disclosed 230
The sign conspicuous, and the scar exposed;
Eager they view’d; with joy they stood amazed;
With tearful eyes o’er all their master gazed:
Around his neck their longing arms they cast,
His head, his shoulders, and his knees embraced; 235
Tears follow’d tears; no word was in their power;
In solemn silence fell the kindly shower.
The King too weeps, the King too grasps their hands,
And moveless, as a marble fountain, stands.
Thus had their joy wept down the setting sun, 240
But first the wise man ceas’d, and thus begun:
‘Enough — on other cares your thought employ,
For danger waits on all untimely joy.
Full many foes, and fierce, observe us near;
Some may betray, and yonder walls may hear. 245
Re-enter then, not all at once, but stay
Some moments you, and let me lead the way.
To me, neglected as I am, I know
The haughty suitors will deny the bow;
But thou, Eumæus, as ‘t is borne away, 250
Thy master’s weapon to his hand convey.
At ev’ry portal let some matron wait,
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 140