Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

by Alexander Pope

  Swift as he spoke, he drew his traitor sword,

  And like a lion rush’d against his lord:

  The wary Chief the rushing foe repress’d, 95

  Who met the point and forc’d it in his breast:

  His falling hand deserts the lifted sword,

  And prone he falls extended o’er the board!

  Before him wide, in mix’d effusion, roll

  Th’ untasted viands, and the jovial bowl. 100

  Full thro’ his liver pass’d the mortal wound,

  With dying rage his forehead beats the ground;

  He spurn’d the seat with fury as he fell,

  And the fierce soul to darkness dived, and Hell.

  Next bold Amphinomus his arms extends 105

  To force the pass; the godlike man defends.

  Thy spear, Telemachus, prevents th’ attack;

  The brazen weapon, driving thro’ his back,

  Thence thro’ his breast its bloody passage tore;

  Flat falls he thund’ring on the marble floor, 110

  And his crush’d forehead marks the stone with gore.

  He left his jav’lin in the dead, for fear

  The long encumbrance of the weighty spear

  To the fierce foe advantage might afford,

  To rush between, and use the shorten’d sword. 115

  With speedy ardour to his sire he flies,

  And, ‘Arm, great Father! arm’ (in haste he cries):

  ‘Lo! hence I run for other arms to wield,

  For missive jav’lins, and for helm and shield;

  Fast by our side, let either faithful swain 120

  In arms attend us, and their part sustain.’

  ‘Haste, and return’ (Ulysses made reply),

  ‘While yet th’ auxiliar shafts this hand supply;

  Lest thou alone, encounter’d by an host,

  Driv’n from the gate, th’ important pass be lost.’ 125

  With speed Telemachus obeys, and flies

  Where piled in heaps the royal armour lies;

  Four brazen helmets, eight refulgent spears,

  And four broad bucklers to his sire he bears:

  At once in brazen panoply they shone, 130

  At once each servant braced his armour on;

  Around their King a faithful guard they stand,

  While yet each shaft flew deathful from his hand:

  Chief after chief expired at ev’ry wound,

  And swell’d the bleeding mountain on the ground. 135

  Soon as his store of flying fates was spent,

  Against the wall he set the bow unbent;

  And now his shoulders bear the massy shield,

  And now his hands two beamy jav’lins wield:

  He frowns beneath his nodding plume, that play’d 140

  O’er the high crest, and cast a dreadful shade.

  There stood a window near, whence, looking down

  From o’er the porch, appear’d the subject town.

  A double strength of valves secured the place,

  A high and narrow, but the only pass: 145

  The cautious King, with all preventing care,

  To guard that outlet, placed Eumæus there:

  When Agelaüs thus: ‘Has none the sense

  To mount yon window, and alarm from thence

  The neighbour-town? the town shall force the door, 150

  And this bold archer soon shall shoot no more.’

  Melanthius then: ‘That outlet to the gate

  So near adjoins that one may guard the strait.

  But other methods of defence remain;

  Myself with arms can furnish all the train; 155

  Stores from the royal magazine I bring,

  And their own darts shall pierce the Prince and King.’

  He said: and mounting up the lofty stairs,

  Twelve shields, twelve lances, and twelve helmets bears:

  All arm, and sudden round the hall appears 160

  A blaze of bucklers, and a wood of spears.

  The Hero stands oppress’d with mighty woe,

  On ev’ry side he sees the labour grow:

  ‘Oh curs’d event! and oh unlook’d-for aid!

  Melanthius or the women have betray’d — 165

  Oh my dear son!’ — The father with a sigh

  Then ceas’d; the filial virtue made reply:

  ‘Falsehood is folly, and ‘t is just to own

  The fault committed: this was mine alone;

  My haste neglected yonder door to bar, 170

  And hence the villain has supplied their war.

  Run, good Eumæus, then, and (what before

  I thoughtless err’d in) well secure that door:

  Learn, if by female fraud this deed were done,

  Or (as my thought misgives) by Dolius’ son.’ 175

  While yet they spoke, in quest of arms again

  To the high chamber stole the faithless swain,

  Not unobserv’d. Eumæus watchful eyed,

  And thus address’d Ulysses near his side:

  ‘The miscreant we suspected takes that way, 180

  Him, if this arm be powerful, shall I slay?

  Or drive him hither, to receive the meed

  From thy own hand, of this detested deed?’

  ‘Not so’ (replied Ulysses); ‘leave him there,

  For us sufficient is another care: 185

  Within the structure of this palace wall

  To keep enclosed his masters till they fall.

  Go you, and seize the felon; backward bind

  His arms and legs, and fix a plank behind;

  On this his body by strong cords extend, 190

  And on a column near the roof suspend:

  So studied tortures his vile days shall end.’

  The ready swains obey’d with joyful haste;

  Behind the felon unperceiv’d they pass’d,

  As round the room in quest of arms he goes 195

  (The half-shut door conceals his lurking foes)

  One hand sustain’d a helm, and one the shield

  Which old Laërtes wont in youth to wield,

  Cover’d with dust, with dryness chapp’d and worn,

  The brass corroded, and the leather torn. 200

  Thus laden, o’er the threshold as he stepp’d,

  Fierce on the villain from each side they leap’d,

  Back by the hair the trembling dastard drew

  And down reluctant on the pavement threw.

  Active and pleas’d the zealous swains fulfil 205

  At every point their master’s rigid will:

  First, fast behind, his hands and feet they bound,

  Then straiten’d cords involv’d his body round;

  So drawn aloft, athwart the column tied,

  The howling felon swung from side to side. 210

  Eumæus scoffing then with keen disdain:

  ‘There pass thy pleasing night, O gentle swain!

  On that soft pillow, from that envied height,

  First may’st thou see the springing dawn of light;

  So timely rise when morning streaks the east, 215

  To drive thy victims to the suitors’ feast.’

  This said, they left him, tortured as he lay,

  Secured the door, and hasty strode away:

  Each, breathing death, resumed his dangerous post

  Near great Ulysses; four against an host. 220

  When lo! descending to her hero’s aid,

  Jove’s daughter Pallas, War’s triumphant Maid;

  In Mentor’s friendly form she join’d his side:

  Ulysses saw, and thus with transport cried:

  ‘Come, ever welcome, and thy succour lend; 225

  O ev’ry sacred name in one! my Friend!

  Early we lov’d, and long our loves have grown;

  Whate’er thro’ life’s whole series I have done,

  Or good, or grateful, now to mind recall,

  And, aiding this
one hour, repay it all.’ 230

  Thus he; but pleasing hopes his bosom warm

  Of Pallas latent in the friendly form.

  The adverse host the phantom-warrior ey’d,

  And first, loud-threat’ning, Agelaüs cried:

  ‘Mentor, beware, nor let that tongue persuade 235

  Thy frantic arm to lend Ulysses aid;

  Our force successful shall our threat make good,

  And with the sire and son’s commix thy blood.

  What hopest thou here? Thee first the sword shall slay,

  Then lop thy whole posterity away; 240

  Far hence thy banish’d consort shall we send;

  With his thy forfeit lands and treasures blend;

  Thus, and thus only, shalt thou join thy friend.’

  His barb’rous insult ev’n the Goddess fires,

  Who thus the warrior to revenge inspires: 245

  ‘Art thou Ulysses? where then shall we find

  The patient body and the constant mind?

  That courage, once the Trojans’ daily dread,

  Known nine long years, and felt by heroes dead?

  And where that conduct, which revenged the lust 250

  Of Priam’s race, and laid proud Troy in dust?

  If this, when Helen was the cause, were done;

  What for thy country now, thy Queen, thy son?

  Rise then in combat, at my side attend;

  Observe what vigour gratitude can lend, 255

  And foes how weak, opposed against a friend!’

  She spoke; but willing longer to survey

  The sire and son’s great acts, withheld the day;

  By farther toils decreed the brave to try,

  And level pois’d the wings of victory; 260

  Then with a change of form eludes their sight,

  Perch’d like a swallow on a rafter’s height,

  And unperceiv’d enjoys the rising fight.

  Damastor’s son, bold Agelaüs, leads

  The guilty war, Eurynomus succeeds; 265

  With these Pisander, great Polyctor’s son,

  Sage Polybus, and stern Amphimedon,

  With Demoptolemus: these six survive;

  The best of all the shafts had left alive.

  Amidst the carnage, desp’rate as they stand, 270

  Thus Agelaüs rous’d the lagging band:

  ‘The hour is come, when you fierce man no more

  With bleeding Princes shall bestrew the floor;

  Lo! Mentor leaves him with an empty boast;

  The four remain, but four against an host. 275

  Let each at once discharge the deadly dart,

  One sure of six shall reach Ulysses’ heart;

  Thus shall one stroke the glory lost regain:

  The rest must perish, their great leader slain.’

  Then all at once their mingled lances threw, 280

  And thirsty all of one man’s blood they flew;

  In vain! Minerva turn’d them with her breath,

  And scatter’d short, or wide, the points of death!

  With deaden’d sound one on the threshold falls,

  One strikes the gate, one rings against the walls: 285

  The storm pass’d innocent. The godlike man

  Now loftier trod, and dreadful thus began:

  ‘‘T is now (brave friends) our turn, at once to throw

  (So speed them Heav’n) our jav’lins at the foe.

  That impious race to all their past misdeeds 290

  Would add our blood. Injustice still proceeds.’

  He spoke: at once their fiery lances flew:

  Great Demoptolemus Ulysses slew;

  Euryades receiv’d the Prince’s dart;

  The goatherd’s quiver’d in Pisander’s heart; 295

  Fierce Elatus, by thine, Eumæus, falls;

  Their fall in thunder echoes round the walls.

  The rest retreat: the victors now advance,

  Each from the dead resumes his bloody lance.

  Again the foe discharge the steely shower; 300

  Again made frustrate by the Virgin-Power.

  Some, turn’d by Pallas, on the threshold fall,

  Some wound the gate, some ring against the wall;

  Some weak, or pond’rous with the brazen head,

  Drop harmless, on the pavement sounding dead. 305

  Then bold Amphimedon his jav’lin cast;

  Thy hand, Telemachus, it lightly razed:

  And from Ctesippus’ arm the spear elanc’d

  On good Eumæus’ shield and shoulder glane’d:

  Not lessen’d of their force (so slight the wound) 310

  Each sung along, and dropp’d upon the ground.

  Fate doom’d thee next, Eurydamas, to bear

  Thy death, ennobled by Ulysses’ spear.

  By the bold son Amphimedon was slain,

  And Polybus renown’d, the faithful swain. 315

  Pierc’d thro’ the breast the rude Ctesippus bled,

  And thus Philætius gloried o’er the dead:

  ‘There end thy pompous vaunts, and high disdain;

  O sharp in scandal, voluble, and vain!

  How weak is mortal pride! To Heav’n alone 320

  Th’ event of actions and our fates are known:

  Scoffer, behold what gratitude we bear:

  The victim’s heel is answer’d with this spear.’

  Ulysses brandish’d high his vengeful steel,

  And Damastorides that instant fell; 325

  Fast by, Leocritus expiring lay;

  The Prince’s jav’lin tore its bloody way

  Thro’ all his bowels: down he tumbles prone,

  His batter’d front and brains besmear the stone.

  Now Pallas shines confess’d; aloft she spreads 330

  The arm of vengeance o’er their guilty heads;

  The dreadful ægis blazes in their eye:

  Amazed they see, they tremble, and they fly:

  Confused, distracted, thro’ the rooms they fling:

  Like oxen madden’d by the breeze’s sting, 335

  When sultry days, and long, succeed the gentle spring.

  Not half so keen fierce vultures of the chase

  Stoop from the mountains on the feather’d race,

  When the wide field extended snares beset;

  With conscious dread they shun the quiv’ring net: 340

  No help, no flight; but, wounded ev’ry way,

  Headlong they drop; the fowlers seize the prey.

  On all sides thus they double wound on wound,

  In prostrate heaps the wretches beat the ground,

  Unmanly shrieks precede each dying groan, 345

  And a red deluge floats the reeking stone.

  Leiodes first before the victor falls:

  The wretched augur thus for mercy calls:

  ‘Oh Gracious! hear, nor let thy suppliant bleed:

  Still undishonour’d, or by word or deed, 350

  Thy house, for me, remains; by me repress’d

  Full oft was check’d th’ injustice of the rest:

  Averse they heard me when I counsell’d well,

  Their hearts were harden’d, and they justly fell.

  Oh, spare an augur’s consecrated head, 355

  Nor add the blameless to the guilty dead.’

  ‘Priest as thou art! for that detested band

  Thy lying prophecies deceiv’d the land:

  Against Ulysses have thy vows been made;

  For them thy daily orisons were paid: 360

  Yet more, even to our bed thy pride aspires:

  One common crime one common fate requires.’

  Thus speaking, from the ground the sword he took

  Which Agelaüs’ dying hand forsook:

  Full thro’ his neck the weighty falchion sped: 365

  Along the pavement roll’d the mutt’ring head.

  Phemius alone the hand of vengeance spared,

  Phemius the sweet,
the Heav’n-instructed bard.

  Beside the gate the rev’rend minstrel stands;

  The lyre, now silent, trembling in his hands; 370

  Dubious to supplicate the Chief, or fly

  To Jove’s inviolable altar nigh,

  Where oft Laërtes holy vows had paid,

  And oft Ulysses smoking victims laid.

  His honour’d harp with care he first set down, 375

  Between the laver and the silver throne;

  Then, prostrate stretch’d before the dreadful man,

  Persuasive thus, with accent soft began:

  ‘O King! to mercy be thy soul inclin’d,

  And spare the poet’s ever-gentle kind. 380

  A deed like this thy future fame would wrong,

  For dear to Gods and man is sacred song.

  Self-taught I sing; by Heav’n, and Heav’n alone,

  The genuine seeds of poesy are sown:

  And (what the Gods bestow) the lofty lay 385

  To Gods alone and godlike worth we pay.

  Save then the poet, and thyself reward;

  ‘T is thine to merit, mine is to record.

  That here I sung, was force, and not desire:

  This hand reluctant touch’d the warbling wire; 390

  And, let thy son attest, nor sordid pay,

  Nor servile flattery, stain’d the moral lay.’

  The moving words Telemachus attends,

  His sire approaches, and the bard defends.

  ‘O mix not, Father, with those impious dead 395

  The man divine; forbear that sacred head;

  Medon, the herald, too, our arms may spare,

  Medon, who made my infancy his care;

  If yet he breathes, permit thy son to give

  Thus much to gratitude, and bid him live.’ 400

  Beneath a table, trembling with dismay,

  Couch’d close to earth, unhappy Medon lay,

  Wrapp’d in a new-slain ox’s ample hide;

  Swift at the word he cast his screen aside,

  Sprung to the Prince, embraced his knee with tears, 405

  And thus with grateful voice address’d his ears:

  ‘O Prince! O Friend! lo! here thy Medon stands:

  Ah! stop the hero’s unresisted hands,

  Incens’d too justly by that impious brood,

  Whose guilty glories now are set in blood.’ 410

  To whom Ulysses with a pleasing eye:

  ‘Be bold, on friendship and my son rely;

  Live, an example for the world to read,

  How much more safe the good than evil deed:

  Thou, with the Heav’n-taught bard, in peace resort 415

  From blood and carnage to yon open court:

  Me other work requires.’ — With tim’rous awe

  From the dire scene th’ exempted two withdraw,

  Scarce sure of life, look round, and trembling move

  To the bright altars of Protector Jove. 420