William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

by William Cowper

  Reciprocated he had sent thee hence,

  Requiting honourably in his turn

  Thy hospitality. But give me quick

  Answer and true. How many have been the years 340

  Since thy reception of that hapless guest

  My son? for mine, my own dear son was he.

  But him, far distant both from friends and home,

  Either the fishes of the unknown Deep

  Have eaten, or wild beasts and fowls of prey,

  Nor I, or she who bare him, was ordain’d

  To bathe his shrouded body with our tears,

  Nor his chaste wife, well-dow’r’d Penelope

  To close her husband’s eyes, and to deplore

  His doom, which is the privilege of the dead. 350

  But tell me also thou, for I would learn,

  Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?

  The bark in which thou and thy godlike friends

  Arrived, where is she anchor’d on our coast?

  Or cam’st thou only passenger on board

  Another’s bark, who landed thee and went?

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  I will with all simplicity relate

  What thou hast ask’d. Of Alybas am I,

  Where in much state I dwell, son of the rich 360

  Apheidas royal Polypemon’s son,

  And I am named Eperitus; by storms

  Driven from Sicily I have arrived,

  And yonder, on the margin of the field

  That skirts your city, I have moor’d my bark.

  Five years have pass’d since thy Ulysses left,

  Unhappy Chief! my country; yet the birds

  At his departure hovered on the right,

  And in that sign rejoicing, I dismiss’d

  Him thence rejoicing also, for we hoped 370

  To mix in social intercourse again,

  And to exchange once more pledges of love.

  He spake; then sorrow as a sable cloud

  Involved Laertes; gath’ring with both hands

  The dust, he pour’d it on his rev’rend head

  With many a piteous groan. Ulysses’ heart

  Commotion felt, and his stretch’d nostrils throbb’d

  With agony close-pent, while fixt he eyed

  His father; with a sudden force he sprang

  Toward him, clasp’d, and kiss’d him, and exclaim’d. 380

  My father! I am he. Thou seest thy son

  Absent these twenty years at last return’d.

  But bid thy sorrow cease; suspend henceforth

  All lamentation; for I tell thee true,

  (And the occasion bids me briefly tell thee)

  I have slain all the suitors at my home,

  And all their taunts and injuries avenged.

  Then answer thus Laertes quick return’d.

  If thou hast come again, and art indeed

  My son Ulysses, give me then the proof 390

  Indubitable, that I may believe.

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  View, first, the scar which with his iv’ry tusk

  A wild boar gave me, when at thy command

  And at my mother’s, to Autolycus

  Her father, on Parnassus, I repair’d

  Seeking the gifts which, while a guest of yours,

  He promis’d should be mine. Accept beside

  This proof. I will enum’rate all the trees

  Which, walking with thee in this cultured spot 400

  (Boy then) I begg’d, and thou confirm’dst my own.

  We paced between them, and thou mad’st me learn

  The name of each. Thou gav’st me thirteen pears,

  Ten apples, thirty figs, and fifty ranks

  Didst promise me of vines, their alleys all

  Corn-cropp’d between. There, oft as sent from Jove

  The influences of the year descend,

  Grapes of all hues and flavours clust’ring hang.

  He said; Laertes, conscious of the proofs

  Indubitable by Ulysses giv’n, 410

  With fault’ring knees and fault’ring heart both arms

  Around him threw. The Hero toil-inured

  Drew to his bosom close his fainting sire,

  Who, breath recov’ring, and his scatter’d pow’rs

  Of intellect, at length thus spake aloud.

  Ye Gods! oh then your residence is still

  On the Olympian heights, if punishment

  At last hath seized on those flagitious men.

  But terrour shakes me, lest, incensed, ere long

  All Ithaca flock hither, and dispatch 420

  Swift messengers with these dread tidings charged

  To ev’ry Cephallenian state around.

  Him answer’d then Ulysses ever-wise.

  Courage! fear nought, but let us to the house

  Beside the garden, whither I have sent

  Telemachus, the herdsman, and the good

  Eumæus to prepare us quick repast.

  So they conferr’d, and to Laertes’ house

  Pass’d on together; there arrived, they found

  Those three preparing now their plenteous feast, 430

  And mingling sable wine; then, by the hands

  Of his Sicilian matron, the old King

  Was bathed, anointed, and attired afresh,

  And Pallas, drawing nigh, dilated more

  His limbs, and gave his whole majestic form

  Encrease of amplitude. He left the bath.

  His son, amazed as he had seen a God

  Alighted newly from the skies, exclaim’d.

  My father! doubtless some immortal Pow’r

  Hath clothed thy form with dignity divine. 440

  Then thus replied his venerable sire.

  Jove! Pallas! Phœbus! oh that I possess’d

  Such vigour now, as when in arms I took

  Nericus, continental city fair,

  With my brave Cephallenians! oh that such

  And arm’d as then, I yesterday had stood

  Beside thee in thy palace, combating

  Those suitors proud, then had I strew’d the floor

  With num’rous slain, to thy exceeding joy.

  Such was their conference; and now, the task 450

  Of preparation ended, and the feast

  Set forth, on couches and on thrones they sat,

  And, ranged in order due, took each his share.

  Then, ancient Dolius, and with him, his sons

  Arrived toil-worn, by the Sicilian dame

  Summon’d, their cat’ress, and their father’s kind

  Attendant ever in his eve of life.

  They, seeing and recalling soon to mind

  Ulysses, in the middle mansion stood

  Wond’ring, when thus Ulysses with a voice 460

  Of some reproof, but gentle, them bespake.

  Old servant, sit and eat, banishing fear

  And mute amazement; for, although provoked

  By appetite, we have long time abstain’d,

  Expecting ev’ry moment thy return.

  He said; then Dolius with expanded arms

  Sprang right toward Ulysses, seized his hand,

  Kiss’d it, and in wing’d accents thus replied.

  Oh master ever dear! since thee the Gods

  Themselves in answer to our warm desires, 470

  Have, unexpectedly, at length restored,

  Hail, and be happy, and heav’n make thee such!

  But say, and truly; knows the prudent Queen

  Already thy return, or shall we send

  Ourselves an herald with the joyful news?

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  My ancient friend, thou may’st release thy mind

  From that solicitude; she knows it well.

  So he; then Dolius to his glossy seat

  Return’d, and all his sons gath’ring around 480

  Ulysses, welcom’
d him and grasp’d his hand,

  Then sat beside their father; thus beneath

  Laertes’ roof they, joyful, took repast.

  But Fame with rapid haste the city roam’d

  In ev’ry part, promulging in all ears

  The suitors’ horrid fate. No sooner heard

  The multitude that tale, than one and all

  Groaning they met and murmuring before

  Ulysses’ gates. Bringing the bodies forth,

  They buried each his friend, but gave the dead 490

  Of other cities to be ferried home

  By fishermen on board their rapid barks.

  All hasted then to council; sorrow wrung

  Their hearts, and, the assembly now convened,

  Arising first Eupithes spake, for grief

  Sat heavy on his soul, grief for the loss

  Of his Antinoüs by Ulysses slain

  Foremost of all, whom mourning, thus he said.

  My friends! no trivial fruits the Greecians reap

  Of this man’s doings. Those he took with him 500

  On board his barks, a num’rous train and bold,

  Then lost his barks, lost all his num’rous train,

  And these, our noblest, slew at his return.

  Come therefore — ere he yet escape by flight

  To Pylus or to noble Elis, realm

  Of the Epeans, follow him; else shame

  Attends us and indelible reproach.

  If we avenge not on these men the blood

  Of our own sons and brothers, farewell then

  All that makes life desirable; my wish 510

  Henceforth shall be to mingle with the shades.

  Oh then pursue and seize them ere they fly.

  Thus he with tears, and pity moved in all.

  Then, Medon and the sacred bard whom sleep

  Had lately left, arriving from the house

  Of Laertiades, approach’d; amid

  The throng they stood; all wonder’d seeing them,

  And Medon, prudent senior, thus began.

  Hear me, my countrymen! Ulysses plann’d

  With no disapprobation of the Gods 520

  The deed that ye deplore. I saw, myself,

  A Pow’r immortal at the Hero’s side,

  In semblance just of Mentor; now the God,

  In front apparent, led him on, and now,

  From side to side of all the palace, urged

  To flight the suitors; heaps on heaps they fell.

  He said; then terrour wan seiz’d ev’ry cheek,

  And Halitherses, Hero old, the son

  Of Mastor, who alone among them all

  Knew past, and future, prudent, thus began. 530

  Now, O ye men of Ithaca! my words

  Attentive hear! by your own fault, my friends,

  This deed hath been perform’d; for when myself

  And noble Mentor counsell’d you to check

  The sin and folly of your sons, ye would not.

  Great was their wickedness, and flagrant wrong

  They wrought, the wealth devouring and the wife

  Dishonouring of an illustrious Chief

  Whom they deem’d destined never to return.

  But hear my counsel. Go not, lest ye draw 540

  Disaster down and woe on your own heads.

  He ended; then with boist’rous roar (although

  Part kept their seats) upsprang the multitude,

  For Halitherses pleased them not, they chose

  Eupithes’ counsel rather; all at once

  To arms they flew, and clad in dazzling brass

  Before the city form’d their dense array.

  Leader infatuate at their head appear’d

  Eupithes, hoping to avenge his son

  Antinoüs, but was himself ordain’d 550

  To meet his doom, and to return no more.

  Then thus Minerva to Saturnian Jove.

  Oh father! son of Saturn! Jove supreme!

  Declare the purpose hidden in thy breast.

  Wilt thou that this hostility proceed,

  Or wilt thou grant them amity again?

  To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.

  Why asks my daughter? didst thou not design

  Thyself, that brave Ulysses coming home

  Should slay those profligates? act as thou wilt, 560

  But thus I counsel, since the noble Chief

  Hath slain the suitors, now let peace ensue

  Oath-bound, and reign Ulysses evermore!

  The slaughter of their brethren and their sons

  To strike from their remembrance, shall be ours.

  Let mutual amity, as at the first,

  Unite them, and let wealth and peace abound.

  So saying, he animated to her task

  Minerva prompt before, and from the heights

  Olympian down to Ithaca she flew. 570

  Meantime Ulysses (for their hunger now

  And thirst were sated) thus address’d his hinds.

  Look ye abroad, lest haply they approach.

  He said, and at his word, forth went a son

  Of Dolius; at the gate he stood, and thence

  Beholding all that multitude at hand,

  In accents wing’d thus to Ulysses spake.

  They come — they are already arrived — arm all!

  Then, all arising, put their armour on,

  Ulysses with his three, and the six sons 580

  Of Dolius; Dolius also with the rest,

  Arm’d and Laertes, although silver-hair’d,

  Warriors perforce. When all were clad alike

  In radiant armour, throwing wide the gates

  They sallied, and Ulysses led the way.

  Then Jove’s own daughter Pallas, in the form

  And with the voice of Mentor, came in view,

  Whom seeing Laertiades rejoiced,

  And thus Telemachus, his son, bespake.

  Now, oh my son! thou shalt observe, untold 590

  By me, where fight the bravest. Oh shame not

  Thine ancestry, who have in all the earth

  Proof given of valour in all ages past.

  To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

  My father! if thou wish that spectacle,

  Thou shalt behold thy son, as thou hast said,

  In nought dishonouring his noble race.

  Then was Laertes joyful, and exclaim’d,

  What sun hath ris’n to-day? oh blessed Gods!

  My son and grandson emulous dispute 600

  The prize of glory, and my soul exults.

  He ended, and Minerva drawing nigh

  To the old King, thus counsell’d him. Oh friend

  Whom most I love, son of Arcesias! pray’r

  Preferring to the virgin azure-eyed,

  And to her father Jove, delay not, shake

  Thy lance in air, and give it instant flight.

  So saying, the Goddess nerved his arm anew.

  He sought in pray’r the daughter dread of Jove,

  And, brandishing it, hurl’d his lance; it struck 610

  Eupithes, pierced his helmet brazen-cheek’d

  That stay’d it not, but forth it sprang beyond,

  And with loud clangor of his arms he fell.

  Then flew Ulysses and his noble son

  With faulchion and with spear of double edge

  To the assault, and of them all had left

  None living, none had to his home return’d,

  But that Jove’s virgin daughter with a voice

  Of loud authority thus quell’d them all.

  Peace, O ye men of Ithaca! while yet 620

  The field remains undeluged with your blood.

  So she, and fear at once paled ev’ry cheek.

  All trembled at the voice divine; their arms

  Escaping from the grasp fell to the earth,

  And, covetous of longer life, each fled

  Back to the city. Then Ulysses sent
/>   His voice abroad, and with an eagle’s force

  Sprang on the people; but Saturnian Jove,

  Cast down, incontinent, his smouldring bolt

  At Pallas’ feet, and thus the Goddess spake. 630

  Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!

  Forbear; abstain from slaughter; lest thyself

  Incur the anger of high thund’ring Jove.

  So Pallas, whom Ulysses, glad, obey’d.

  Then faithful covenants of peace between

  Both sides ensued, ratified in the sight

  Of Pallas progeny of Jove, who seem’d,

  In voice and form, the Mentor known to all.

  The Biographies

  Cowper’s final home in Weston Underwood, Buckinghamshire — Cowper moved from Olney to Weston Underwood in November 1786 as a resident guest of the Throckmorton family, staying with them until a few years before his death. The house is now known as Cowper’s Lodge and is situated in the High Street.

  William Cowper by George Romney, 1792

  Brief Life of William Cowper by Francis Storr

  William Cowper was born on the 26th of November 1731, at Berkhampstead, Hertfordshire, of which village his father, the Rev. John Cowper, was rector. He was of noble ancestry, and many of his immediate relatives moved in the upper ranks of life. His mother, Ann Donne, a daughter of Roger Donne, Esq., of Ludham Hall in Norfolk, died when he was only six years of age, leaving two children, — William, the subject of this memoir, and a younger brother, John. Her affection and tenderness made a deep impression on his young mind. Fifty years afterwards, on receiving her picture, he dwells as fondly on the cherished features as if he had just mourned her death. He writes to his cousin, Mrs. Bodham, who had sent him the portrait— “I received it the night before last, and viewed it with a trepidation of nerves and spirits somewhat akin to what I should have felt had the dear original presented herself to my embraces. I kissed it, and hung it where it is the last object that I see at night, and, of course, the first on which I open my eyes in the morning.” His feelings, indeed, were all of the intense kind. “I never received a little pleasure from anything in my life,” he writes; “if I am pleased, it is in the extreme.”

  Few incidents of his early life have been preserved, and much obscurity rests on the circumstances which made him a stranger from his father’s house almost immediately after his mother’s death. Though his father lived to the year 1756, Cowper appears never to have lived at home, excepting for a brief period of nine months, when he was eighteen years of age.

  When only six years of age, he was sent to the school of Dr. Pitman, in Market Street, on the borders of Hertfordshire. Here he continued two years — a period embittered by the cruelty of a boy of fifteen years of age, “whose savage treatment,” says Cowper, “impressed such a dread of his figure upon my mind, that I well remember being afraid to lift up my eyes upon him higher than his knees; and that I knew him by his shoe-buckles better than any other part of his dress.” It is characteristic of the gentle spirit of the poet, that he refrains from mentioning the name of his persecutor.