Unfurl’d and spread their canvas to the gale.
Their bold attendants, then, brought them their arms,
And soon as in deep water they had moor’d 950
The ship, themselves embarking, supp’d on board,
And watch’d impatient for the dusk of eve.
But when Penelope, the palace stairs
Remounting, had her upper chamber reach’d,
There, unrefresh’d with either food or wine,
She lay’d her down, her noble son the theme
Of all her thoughts, whether he should escape
His haughty foes, or perish by their hands.
Num’rous as are the lion’s thoughts, who sees,
Not without fear, a multitude with toils 960
Encircling him around, such num’rous thoughts
Her bosom occupied, till sleep at length
Invading her, she sank in soft repose.
Then Pallas, teeming with a new design,
Set forth an airy phantom in the form
Of fair Iphthima, daughter of the brave
Icarius, and Eumelus’ wedded wife
In Pheræ. Shaped like her the dream she sent
Into the mansion of the godlike Chief
Ulysses, with kind purpose to abate 970
The sighs and tears of sad Penelope.
Ent’ring the chamber-portal, where the bolt
Secured it, at her head the image stood,
And thus, in terms compassionate, began.
Sleep’st thou, distress’d Penelope? The Gods,
Happy in everlasting rest themselves,
Forbid thy sorrows. Thou shalt yet behold
Thy son again, who hath by no offence
Incurr’d at any time the wrath of heav’n.
To whom, sweet-slumb’ring in the shadowy gate 980
By which dreams pass, Penelope replied.
What cause, my sister, brings thee, who art seen
Unfrequent here, for that thou dwell’st remote?
And thou enjoin’st me a cessation too
From sorrows num’rous, and which, fretting, wear
My heart continual; first, my spouse I lost
With courage lion-like endow’d, a prince
All-excellent, whose never-dying praise
Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused;
And now my only son, new to the toils 990
And hazards of the sea, nor less untaught
The arts of traffic, in a ship is gone
Far hence, for whose dear cause I sorrow more
Than for his Sire himself, and even shake
With terror, lest he perish by their hands
To whom he goes, or in the stormy Deep;
For num’rous are his foes, and all intent
To slay him, ere he reach his home again.
Then answer thus the shadowy form return’d.
Take courage; suffer not excessive dread 1000
To overwhelm thee, such a guide he hath
And guardian, one whom many wish their friend,
And ever at their side, knowing her pow’r,
Minerva; she compassionates thy griefs,
And I am here her harbinger, who speak
As thou hast heard by her own kind command.
Then thus Penelope the wise replied.
Oh! if thou art a goddess, and hast heard
A Goddess’ voice, rehearse to me the lot
Of that unhappy one, if yet he live 1010
Spectator of the cheerful beams of day,
Or if, already dead, he dwell below.
Whom answer’d thus the fleeting shadow vain.
I will not now inform thee if thy Lord
Live, or live not. Vain words are best unspoken.
So saying, her egress swift beside the bolt
She made, and melted into air. Upsprang
From sleep Icarius’ daughter, and her heart
Felt heal’d within her, by that dream distinct
Visited in the noiseless night serene. 1020
Meantime the suitors urged their wat’ry way,
To instant death devoting in their hearts
Telemachus. There is a rocky isle
In the mid sea, Samos the rude between
And Ithaca, not large, named Asteris.
It hath commodious havens, into which
A passage clear opens on either side,
And there the ambush’d Greeks his coming watch’d.
BOOK V
ARGUMENT
Mercury bears to Calypso a command from Jupiter that she dismiss Ulysses.
She, after some remonstrances, promises obedience, and furnishes him with
instruments and materials, with which he constructs a raft. He quits
Calypso’s island; is persecuted by Neptune with dreadful tempests, but by
the assistance of a sea nymph, after having lost his raft, is enabled to
swim to Phæacia.
Aurora from beside her glorious mate
Tithonus now arose, light to dispense
Through earth and heav’n, when the assembled Gods
In council sat, o’er whom high-thund’ring Jove
Presided, mightiest of the Pow’rs above.
Amid them, Pallas on the num’rous woes
Descanted of Ulysses, whom she saw
With grief, still prison’d in Calypso’s isle.
Jove, Father, hear me, and ye other Pow’rs
Who live for ever, hear! Be never King 10
Henceforth to gracious acts inclined, humane,
Or righteous, but let ev’ry sceptred hand
Rule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,
Since none of all his people whom he sway’d
With such paternal gentleness and love
Remembers, now, divine Ulysses more.
He, in yon distant isle a suff’rer lies
Of hopeless sorrow, through constraint the guest
Still of the nymph Calypso, without means
Or pow’r to reach his native shores again, 20
Alike of gallant barks and friends depriv’d,
Who might conduct him o’er the spacious Deep.
Nor is this all, but enemies combine
To slay his son ere yet he can return
From Pylus, whither he hath gone to learn
There, or in Sparta, tidings of his Sire.
To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.
What word hath pass’d thy lips, daughter belov’d?
Hast thou not purpos’d that arriving soon
At home, Ulysses shall destroy his foes? 30
Guide thou, Telemachus, (for well thou canst)
That he may reach secure his native coast,
And that the suitors baffled may return.
He ceas’d, and thus to Hermes spake, his son.
Hermes! (for thou art herald of our will
At all times) to yon bright-hair’d nymph convey
Our fix’d resolve, that brave Ulysses thence
Depart, uncompanied by God or man.
Borne on a corded raft, and suff’ring woe
Extreme, he on the twentieth day shall reach, 40
Not sooner, Scherie the deep-soil’d, possess’d
By the Phæacians, kinsmen of the Gods.
They, as a God shall reverence the Chief,
And in a bark of theirs shall send him thence
To his own home, much treasure, brass and gold
And raiment giving him, to an amount
Surpassing all that, had he safe return’d,
He should by lot have shared of Ilium’s spoil.
Thus Fate appoints Ulysses to regain
His country, his own palace, and his friends. 50
He ended, nor the Argicide refused,
Messenger of the skies; his sandals fair,
Ambrosial, golden, to his feet he bound,
Which o’er the moist wave, rapid as the wind,
Bear
him, and o’er th’ illimitable earth,
Then took his rod with which, at will, all eyes
He closes soft, or opes them wide again.
So arm’d, forth flew the valiant Argicide.
Alighting on Pieria, down he stoop’d
To Ocean, and the billows lightly skimm’d 60
In form a sew-mew, such as in the bays
Tremendous of the barren Deep her food
Seeking, dips oft in brine her ample wing.
In such disguise o’er many a wave he rode,
But reaching, now, that isle remote, forsook
The azure Deep, and at the spacious grot,
Where dwelt the amber-tressed nymph arrived,
Found her within. A fire on all the hearth
Blazed sprightly, and, afar-diffused, the scent
Of smooth-split cedar and of cypress-wood 70
Odorous, burning, cheer’d the happy isle.
She, busied at the loom, and plying fast
Her golden shuttle, with melodious voice
Sat chaunting there; a grove on either side,
Alder and poplar, and the redolent branch
Wide-spread of Cypress, skirted dark the cave.
There many a bird of broadest pinion built
Secure her nest, the owl, the kite, and daw
Long-tongued, frequenter of the sandy shores.
A garden-vine luxuriant on all sides 80
Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung
Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph
Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,
Stray’d all around, and ev’ry where appear’d
Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o’er
With violets; it was a scene to fill
A God from heav’n with wonder and delight.
Hermes, Heav’n’s messenger, admiring stood
That sight, and having all survey’d, at length
Enter’d the grotto; nor the lovely nymph 90
Him knew not soon as seen, for not unknown
Each to the other the Immortals are,
How far soever sep’rate their abodes.
Yet found he not within the mighty Chief
Ulysses; he sat weeping on the shore,
Forlorn, for there his custom was with groans
Of sad regret t’ afflict his breaking heart.
Looking continual o’er the barren Deep.
Then thus Calypso, nymph divine, the God
Question’d, from her resplendent throne august. 100
Hermes! possessor of the potent rod!
Who, though by me much reverenc’d and belov’d,
So seldom com’st, say, wherefore comest now?
Speak thy desire; I grant it, if thou ask
Things possible, and possible to me.
Stay not, but ent’ring farther, at my board
Due rites of hospitality receive.
So saying, the Goddess with ambrosial food
Her table cover’d, and with rosy juice
Nectareous charged the cup. Then ate and drank 110
The argicide and herald of the skies,
And in his soul with that repast divine
Refresh’d, his message to the nymph declared.
Questionest thou, O Goddess, me a God?
I tell thee truth, since such is thy demand.
Not willing, but by Jove constrain’d, I come.
For who would, voluntary, such a breadth
Enormous measure of the salt expanse,
Where city none is seen in which the Gods
Are served with chosen hecatombs and pray’r? 120
But no divinity may the designs
Elude, or controvert, of Jove supreme.
He saith, that here thou hold’st the most distrest
Of all those warriors who nine years assail’d
The city of Priam, and, (that city sack’d)
Departed in the tenth; but, going thence,
Offended Pallas, who with adverse winds
Opposed their voyage, and with boist’rous waves.
Then perish’d all his gallant friends, but him
Billows and storms drove hither; Jove commands 130
That thou dismiss him hence without delay,
For fate ordains him not to perish here
From all his friends remote, but he is doom’d
To see them yet again, and to arrive
At his own palace in his native land.
He said; divine Calypso at the sound
Shudder’d, and in wing’d accents thus replied.
Ye are unjust, ye Gods, and envious past
All others, grudging if a Goddess take
A mortal man openly to her arms! 140
So, when the rosy-finger’d Morning chose
Orion, though ye live yourselves at ease,
Yet ye all envied her, until the chaste
Diana from her golden throne dispatch’d
A silent shaft, which slew him in Ortygia.
So, when the golden-tressed Ceres, urged
By passion, took Iäsion to her arms
In a thrice-labour’d fallow, not untaught
Was Jove that secret long, and, hearing it,
Indignant, slew him with his candent bolt. 150
So also, O ye Gods, ye envy me
The mortal man, my comfort. Him I saved
Myself, while solitary on his keel
He rode, for with his sulph’rous arrow Jove
Had cleft his bark amid the sable Deep.
Then perish’d all his gallant friends, but him
Billows and storms drove hither, whom I lov’d
Sincere, and fondly destin’d to a life
Immortal, unobnoxious to decay.
But since no Deity may the designs 160
Elude or controvert of Jove supreme,
Hence with him o’er the barren Deep, if such
The Sov’reign’s will, and such his stern command.
But undismiss’d he goes by me, who ships
Myself well-oar’d and mariners have none
To send with him athwart the spacious flood;
Yet freely, readily, my best advice
I will afford him, that, escaping all
Danger, he may regain his native shore.
Then Hermes thus, the messenger of heav’n. 170
Act as thou say’st, fearing the frown of Jove,
Lest, if provoked, he spare not even thee.
So saying, the dauntless Argicide withdrew,
And she (Jove’s mandate heard) all-graceful went,
Seeking the brave Ulysses; on the shore
She found him seated; tears succeeding tears
Delug’d his eyes, while, hopeless of return,
Life’s precious hours to eating cares he gave
Continual, with the nymph now charm’d no more.
Yet, cold as she was am’rous, still he pass’d 180
His nights beside her in the hollow grot,
Constrain’d, and day by day the rocks among
Which lined the shore heart-broken sat, and oft
While wistfully he eyed the barren Deep,
Wept, groaned, desponded, sigh’d, and wept again.
Then, drawing near, thus spake the nymph divine.
Unhappy! weep not here, nor life consume
In anguish; go; thou hast my glad consent.
Arise to labour; hewing down the trunks
Of lofty trees, fashion them with the ax 190
To a broad raft, which closely floor’d above,
Shall hence convey thee o’er the gloomy Deep.
Bread, water, and the red grape’s cheering juice
Myself will put on board, which shall preserve
Thy life from famine; I will also give
New raiment for thy limbs, and will dispatch
Winds after thee to waft thee home unharm’d,
If such the pleasure of the Gods who dwell
; In yonder boundless heav’n, superior far
To me, in knowledge and in skill to judge. 200
She ceas’d; but horror at that sound the heart
Chill’d of Ulysses, and in accents wing’d
With wonder, thus the noble Chief replied.
Ah! other thoughts than of my safe return
Employ thee, Goddess, now, who bid’st me pass
The perilous gulph of Ocean on a raft,
That wild expanse terrible, which even ships
Pass not, though form’d to cleave their way with ease,
And joyful in propitious winds from Jove.
No — let me never, in despight of thee, 210
Embark on board a raft, nor till thou swear,
O Goddess! the inviolable oath,
That future mischief thou intend’st me none.
He said; Calypso, beauteous Goddess, smiled,
And, while she spake, stroaking his cheek, replied.
Thou dost asperse me rudely, and excuse
Of ignorance hast none, far better taught;
What words were these? How could’st thou thus reply?
Now hear me Earth, and the wide Heav’n above!
Hear, too, ye waters of the Stygian stream 220
Under the earth (by which the blessed Gods
Swear trembling, and revere the awful oath!)
That future mischief I intend thee none.
No, my designs concerning thee are such
As, in an exigence resembling thine,
Myself, most sure, should for myself conceive.
I have a mind more equal, not of steel
My heart is form’d, but much to pity inclined.
So saying, the lovely Goddess with swift pace
Led on, whose footsteps he as swift pursued. 230
Within the vaulted cavern they arrived,
The Goddess and the man; on the same throne
Ulysses sat, whence Hermes had aris’n,
And viands of all kinds, such as sustain
The life of mortal man, Calypso placed
Before him, both for bev’rage and for food.
She opposite to the illustrious Chief
Reposed, by her attendant maidens served
With nectar and ambrosia. They their hands
Stretch’d forth together to the ready feast, 240
And when nor hunger more nor thirst remain’d
Unsated, thus the beauteous nymph began.
Laertes’ noble son, for wisdom famed
And artifice! oh canst thou thus resolve
To seek, incontinent, thy native shores?
I pardon thee. Farewell! but could’st thou guess
The woes which fate ordains thee to endure
Ere yet thou reach thy country, well-content
Here to inhabit, thou would’st keep my grot
And be immortal, howsoe’er thy wife 250
William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works Page 153