William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

by William Cowper

  He ceas’d; at whose reply Eumæus sought

  Again the Queen, but ere he yet had pass’d 690

  The threshold, thus she greeted his return.

  Com’st thou alone, Eumæus? why delays

  The invited wand’rer? dreads he other harm?

  Or sees he aught that with a bashful awe

  Fills him? the bashful poor are poor indeed.

  To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

  He hath well spoken; none who would decline

  The rudeness of this contumelious throng

  Could answer otherwise; thee he entreats

  To wait till sun-set, and that course, O Queen, 700

  Thou shalt thyself far more commodious find,

  To hold thy conf’rence with the guest, alone.

  Then answer thus Penelope return’d.

  The stranger, I perceive, is not unwise,

  Whoe’er he be, for on the earth are none

  Proud, insolent, and profligate as these.

  So spake the Queen. Then (all his message told)

  The good Eumæus to the suitors went

  Again, and with his head inclined toward

  Telemachus, lest others should his words 710

  Witness, in accents wing’d him thus address’d.

  Friend and kind master! I return to keep

  My herds, and to attend my rural charge,

  Whence we are both sustain’d. Keep thou, meantime,

  All here with vigilance, but chiefly watch

  For thy own good, and save thyself from harm;

  For num’rous here brood mischief, whom the Gods

  Exterminate, ere yet their plots prevail!

  To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

  So be it, father! and (thy evening-mess 720

  Eaten) depart; to-morrow come again,

  Bringing fair victims hither; I will keep,

  I and the Gods, meantime, all here secure.

  He ended; then resumed once more the swain

  His polish’d seat, and, both with wine and food

  Now satiate, to his charge return’d, the court

  Leaving and all the palace throng’d with guests;

  They (for it now was evening) all alike

  Turn’d jovial to the song and to the dance.

  BOOK XVIII

  ARGUMENT

  The beggar Irus arrives at the palace; a combat takes place between him

  and Ulysses, in which Irus is by one blow vanquished. Penelope appears to

  the suitors, and having reminded them of the presents which she had a

  right to expect from them, receives a gift from each. Eurymachus,

  provoked by a speech of Ulysses, flings a foot-stool at him, which knocks

  down the cup-bearer; a general tumult is the consequence, which

  continues, till by the advice of Telemachus, seconded by Amphinomus, the

  suitors retire to their respective homes.

  Now came a public mendicant, a man

  Accustom’d, seeking alms, to roam the streets

  Of Ithaca; one never sated yet

  With food or drink; yet muscle had he none,

  Or strength of limb, though giant-built in show.

  Arnæus was the name which at his birth

  His mother gave him, but the youthful band

  Of suitors, whom as messenger he served,

  All named him Irus. He, arriving, sought

  To drive Ulysses forth from his own home, 10

  And in rough accents rude him thus rebuked.

  Forth from the porch, old man! lest by the foot

  I drag thee quickly forth. Seest not how all

  Wink on me, and by signs give me command

  To drag thee hence? nor is it aught but shame

  That checks me. Yet arise, lest soon with fists

  Thou force me to adjust our diff’rence.

  To whom Ulysses, low’ring dark, replied.

  Peace, fellow! neither word nor deed of mine

  Wrongs thee, nor feel I envy at the boon, 20

  However plentiful, which thou receiv’st.

  The sill may hold us both; thou dost not well

  To envy others; thou appear’st like me

  A vagrant; plenty is the gift of heav’n.

  But urge me not to trial of our fists,

  Lest thou provoke me, and I stain with blood

  Thy bosom and thy lips, old as I am.

  So, my attendance should to-morrow prove

  More tranquil here; for thou should’st leave, I judge,

  Ulysses’ mansion, never to return. 30

  Then answer’d Irus, kindling with disdain.

  Gods! with what volubility of speech

  The table-hunter prates, like an old hag

  Collied with chimney-smutch! but ah beware!

  For I intend thee mischief, and to dash

  With both hands ev’ry grinder from thy gums,

  As men untooth a pig pilf’ring the corn.

  Come — gird thee, that all here may view the strife —

  But how wilt thou oppose one young as I?

  Thus on the threshold of the lofty gate 40

  They, wrangling, chafed each other, whose dispute

  The high-born youth Antinoüs mark’d; he laugh’d

  Delighted, and the suitors thus address’d.

  Oh friends! no pastime ever yet occurr’d

  Pleasant as this which, now, the Gods themselves

  Afford us. Irus and the stranger brawl

  As they would box. Haste — let us urge them on.

  He said; at once loud-laughing all arose;

  The ill-clad disputants they round about

  Encompass’d, and Antinoüs thus began. 50

  Attend ye noble suitors to my voice.

  Two paunches lie of goats here on the fire,

  Which fill’d with fat and blood we set apart

  For supper; he who conquers, and in force

  Superior proves, shall freely take the paunch

  Which he prefers, and shall with us thenceforth

  Feast always; neither will we here admit

  Poor man beside to beg at our repasts.

  He spake, whom all approved; next, artful Chief

  Ulysses thus, dissembling, them address’d. 60

  Princes! unequal is the strife between

  A young man and an old with mis’ry worn;

  But hunger, always counsellor of ill,

  Me moves to fight, that many a bruise received,

  I may be foil’d at last. Now swear ye all

  A solemn oath, that none, for Irus’ sake

  Shall, interposing, smite me with his fist

  Clandestine, forcing me to yield the prize.

  He ceas’d, and, as he bade, all present swore

  A solemn oath; then thus, amid them all 70

  Standing, Telemachus majestic spake.

  Guest! if thy courage and thy manly mind

  Prompt thee to banish this man hence, no force

  Fear thou beside, for who smites thee, shall find

  Yet other foes to cope with; I am here

  In the host’s office, and the royal Chiefs

  Eurymachus and Antinoüs, alike

  Discrete, accord unanimous with me.

  He ceas’d, whom all approved. Then, with his rags

  Ulysses braced for decency his loins 80

  Around, but gave to view his brawny thighs

  Proportion’d fair, and stripp’d his shoulders broad,

  His chest and arms robust; while, at his side,

  Dilating more the Hero’s limbs and more

  Minerva stood; the assembly with fixt eyes

  Astonish’d gazed on him, and, looking full

  On his next friend, a suitor thus remark’d.

  Irus shall be in Irus found no more.

  He hath pull’d evil on himself. What thewes

  And what a haunch the senior’s tatters hid! 90

 
So he — meantime in Irus’ heart arose

  Horrible tumult; yet, his loins by force

  Girding, the servants dragg’d him to the fight

  Pale, and his flesh all quiv’ring as he came;

  Whose terrors thus Antinoüs sharp rebuked.

  Now, wherefore liv’st, and why wast ever born

  Thou mountain-mass of earth! if such dismay

  Shake thee at thought of combat with a man

  Ancient as he, and worn with many woes?

  But mark, I threaten not in vain; should he 100

  O’ercome thee, and in force superior prove,

  To Echetus thou go’st; my sable bark

  Shall waft thee to Epirus, where he reigns

  Enemy of mankind; of nose and ears

  He shall despoil thee with his ruthless steel,

  And tearing by the roots the parts away

  That mark thy sex, shall cast them to the dogs.

  He said; His limbs new terrors at that sound

  Shook under him; into the middle space

  They led him, and each raised his hands on high. 110

  Then doubtful stood Ulysses toil-inured,

  Whether to strike him lifeless to the earth

  At once, or fell him with a managed blow.

  To smite with managed force at length he chose

  As wisest, lest, betray’d by his own strength,

  He should be known. With elevated fists

  Both stood; him Irus on the shoulder struck,

  But he his adversary on the neck

  Pash’d close beneath his ear; he split the bones,

  And blood in sable streams ran from his mouth. 120

  With many an hideous yell he dropp’d, his teeth

  Chatter’d, and with his heels he drumm’d the ground.

  The wooers, at that sight, lifting their hands

  In glad surprize, laugh’d all their breath away.

  Then, through the vestibule, and right across

  The court, Ulysses dragg’d him by the foot

  Into the portico, where propping him

  Against the wall, and giving him his staff,

  In accents wing’d he bade him thus farewell.

  There seated now, dogs drive and swine away, 130

  Nor claim (thyself so base) supreme controul

  O’er other guests and mendicants, lest harm

  Reach thee, hereafter, heavier still than this.

  So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his back

  He threw suspended by its leathern twist,

  And tow’rd the threshold turning, sat again,

  They laughing ceaseless still, the palace-door

  Re-enter’d, and him, courteous, thus bespake.

  Jove, and all Jove’s assessors in the skies

  Vouchsafe thee, stranger, whatsoe’er it be, 140

  Thy heart’s desire! who hast our ears reliev’d

  From that insatiate beggar’s irksome tone.

  Soon to Epirus he shall go dispatch’d

  To Echetus the King, pest of mankind.

  So they, to whose propitious words the Chief

  Listen’d delighted. Then Antinoüs placed

  The paunch before him, and Amphinomus

  Two loaves, selected from the rest; he fill’d

  A goblet also, drank to him, and said,

  My father, hail! O stranger, be thy lot 150

  Hereafter blest, though adverse now and hard!

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  To me, Amphinomus, endued thou seem’st

  With much discretion, who art also son

  Of such a sire, whose fair report I know,

  Dulichian Nysus, opulent and good.

  Fame speaks thee his, and thou appear’st a man

  Judicious; hear me, therefore; mark me well.

  Earth nourishes, of all that breathe or creep,

  No creature weak as man; for while the Gods 160

  Grant him prosperity and health, no fear

  Hath he, or thought, that he shall ever mourn;

  But when the Gods with evils unforeseen

  Smite him, he bears them with a grudging mind;

  For such as the complexion of his lot

  By the appointment of the Sire of all,

  Such is the colour of the mind of man.

  I, too, have been familiar in my day

  With wealth and ease, but I was then self-will’d,

  And many wrong’d, embolden’d by the thought 170

  Of my own father’s and my brethren’s pow’r.

  Let no man, therefore, be unjust, but each

  Use modestly what gift soe’er of heav’n.

  So do not these. These ever bent I see

  On deeds injurious, the possessions large

  Consuming, and dishonouring the wife

  Of one, who will not, as I judge, remain

  Long absent from his home, but is, perchance,

  Ev’n at the door. Thee, therefore, may the Gods

  Steal hence in time! ah, meet not his return 180

  To his own country! for they will not part,

  (He and the suitors) without blood, I think,

  If once he enter at these gates again!

  He ended, and, libation pouring, quaff’d

  The generous juice, then in the prince’s hand

  Replaced the cup; he, pensive, and his head

  Inclining low, pass’d from him; for his heart

  Forboded ill; yet ‘scaped not even he,

  But in the snare of Pallas caught, his life

  To the heroic arm and spear resign’d 190

  Of brave Telemachus. Reaching, at length,

  The seat whence he had ris’n, he sat again.

  Minerva then, Goddess, cærulean-eyed,

  Prompted Icarius’ daughter to appear

  Before the suitors; so to expose the more

  Their drift iniquitous, and that herself

  More bright than ever in her husband’s eyes

  Might shine, and in her son’s. Much mirth she feign’d,

  And, bursting into laughter, thus began.

  I wish, Eurynome! (who never felt 200

  That wish till now) though I detest them all,

  To appear before the suitors, in whose ears

  I will admonish, for his good, my son,

  Not to associate with that lawless crew

  Too much, who speak him fair, but foul intend.

  Then answer thus Eurynome return’d.

  My daughter! wisely hast thou said and well.

  Go! bathe thee and anoint thy face, then give

  To thy dear son such counsel as thou wilt

  Without reserve; but shew not there thy cheeks 210

  Sullied with tears, for profit none accrues

  From grief like thine, that never knows a change.

  And he is now bearded, and hath attained

  That age which thou wast wont with warmest pray’r

  To implore the Gods that he might live to see.

  Her answer’d then Penelope discrete.

  Persuade not me, though studious of my good,

  To bathe, Eurynome! or to anoint

  My face with oil; for all my charms the Gods

  Inhabitants of Olympus then destroy’d, 220

  When he, embarking, left me. Go, command

  Hippodamia and Autonöe

  That they attend me to the hall, and wait

  Beside me there; for decency forbids

  That I should enter to the men, alone.

  She ceas’d, and through the house the ancient dame

  Hasted to summon whom she had enjoin’d.

  But Pallas, Goddess of the azure eyes,

  Diffused, meantime, the kindly dew of sleep

  Around Icarius’ daughter; on her couch 230

  Reclining, soon as she reclin’d, she dozed,

  And yielded to soft slumber all her frame.

  Then, that the suitors might admire her more,
/>   The glorious Goddess cloath’d her, as she lay,

  With beauty of the skies; her lovely face

  She with ambrosia purified, with such

  As Cytherea chaplet-crown’d employs

  Herself, when in the eye-ensnaring dance

  She joins the Graces; to a statelier height

  Beneath her touch, and ampler size she grew, 240

  And fairer than the elephantine bone

  Fresh from the carver’s hand. These gifts conferr’d

  Divine, the awful Deity retired.

  And now, loud-prattling as they came, arrived

  Her handmaids; sleep forsook her at the sound,

  She wiped away a tear, and thus she said.

  Me gentle sleep, sad mourner as I am,

  Hath here involved. O would that by a death

  As gentle chaste Diana would herself

  This moment set me free, that I might waste 250

  My life no longer in heart-felt regret

  Of a lamented husband’s various worth

  And virtue, for in Greece no Peer had he!

  She said, and through her chambers’ stately door

  Issuing, descended; neither went she sole,

  But with those two fair menials of her train.

  Arriving, most majestic of her sex,

  In presence of the num’rous guests, beneath

  The portal of the stately dome she stood

  Between her maidens, with her lucid veil 260

  Mantling her lovely cheeks. Then, ev’ry knee

  Trembled, and ev’ry heart with am’rous heat

  Dissolv’d, her charms all coveting alike,

  While to Telemachus her son she spake.

  Telemachus! thou art no longer wise

  As once thou wast, and even when a child.

  For thriven as thou art, and at full size

  Arrived of man, so fair proportion’d, too,

  That ev’n a stranger, looking on thy growth

  And beauty, would pronounce thee nobly born, 270

  Yet is thy intellect still immature.

  For what is this? why suffer’st thou a guest

  To be abused in thy own palace? how?

  Know’st not that if the stranger seated here

  Endure vexation, the disgrace is thine?

  Her answer’d, then, Telemachus discrete.

  I blame thee not, my mother, that thou feel’st

  Thine anger moved; yet want I not a mind

  Able to mark and to discern between

  Evil and good, child as I lately was, 280

  Although I find not promptitude of thought

  Sufficient always, overaw’d and check’d

  By such a multitude, all bent alike

  On mischief, of whom none takes part with me.

  But Irus and the stranger have not fought,

  Urged by the suitors, and the stranger prov’d