Chapter III: Part 3

The sun now left the great and goodly lake, And to the firm heav’n bright ascent did make, To shine as well upon the mortal birth, Inhabiting the plow’d life-giving earth, As on the ever-treaders upon death. And now to Pylos, that so garnisheth Herself with buildings, old Neleus’ town, The prince and Goddess come had strange sights shown, For, on the marine shore, the people there To Neptune, that the azure locks doth wear, Beeves that were wholly black gave holy flame. Nine seats of state they made to his high name; And ev’ry seat set with five hundred men, And each five hundred was to furnish then With nine black oxen ev’ry sacred seat. These of the entrails only pleas’d to eat, And to the God enflam’d the fleshy thighs. By this time Pallas with the sparkling eyes, And he she led, within the haven bore, Struck sail, cast anchor, and trod both the shore, She first, he after. Then said Pallas: “Now No more befits thee the least bashful brow; T’ embolden which this act is put on thee, To seek thy father both at shore and sea, And learn in what clime he abides so close, Or in the pow’r of what Fate doth repose. Come then, go right to Nestor; let us see, If in his bosom any counsel be, That may inform us. Pray him not to trace The common courtship, and to speak in grace Of the demander, but to tell the truth; Which will delight him, and commend thy youth For such prevention; for he loves no lies, Nor will report them, being truly wise.” He answer’d: “Mentor! how, alas! shall I Present myself? How greet his gravity? My youth by no means that ripe form affords, That can digest my mind’s instinct in words Wise, and beseeming th’ ears of one so sage. Youth of most hope blush to use words with age.” She said: “Thy mind will some conceit impress, And something God will prompt thy towardness; For, I suppose, thy birth, and breeding too, Were not in spite of what the Gods could do.” This said, she swiftly went before, and he Her steps made guides, and follow’d instantly. When soon they reach’d the Pylian throngs and seats, Where Nestor with his sons sat; and the meats, That for the feast serv’d, round about them were Adherents dressing, all their sacred cheer, Being roast and boil’d meats. When the Pylians saw These strangers come, in thrust did all men draw About their entry, took their hands, and pray’d They both would sit; their entry first assay’d By Nestor’s son, Pisistratus. In grace Of whose repair, he gave them honour’d place Betwixt his sire and brother Thrasymed, Who sat at feast on soft fells that were spread Along the sea sands, kerv’d, and reach’d to them Parts of the inwards, and did make a stream Of spritely wine into a golden bowl; Which to Minerva with a gentle soul He gave, and thus spake: “Ere you eat, fair guest, Invoke the Seas’ King, of whose sacred feast Your travel hither makes ye partners now; When, sacrificing as becomes, bestow This bowl of sweet wine on your friend, that he May likewise use these rites of piety; For I suppose his youth doth prayers use, Since all men need the Gods. But you I choose First in this cup’s disposure, since his years Seem short of yours, who more like me appears.” Thus gave he her the cup of pleasant wine; And since a wise and just man did design The golden bowl first to her free receit, Ev’n to the Goddess it did add delight, Who thus invok’d: “Hear thou, whose vast embrace Enspheres the whole earth, nor disdain thy grace To us that ask it in performing this: To Nestor first, and these fair sons of his, Vouchsafe all honour; and, next them, bestow On all these Pylians, that have offer’d now This most renowned hecatomb to thee, Remuneration fit for them, and free; And lastly deign Telemachus and me, The work perform’d for whose effect we came, Our safe return, both with our ship and fame.” Thus pray’d she; and herself herself obey’d, In th’ end performing all for which she pray’d. And now, to pray, and do as she had done, She gave the fair round bowl t’ Ulysses’ son. The meat then dress’d, and drawn, and serv’d t’ each guest, They celebrated a most sumptuous feast. When appetite to wine and food allay’d, Horse-taming Nestor then began, and said: “Now life’s desire is serv’d, as far as fare, Time fits me to enquire what guests these are. Fair guests, what are ye? And for what coast tries Your ship the moist deeps? For fit merchandise? Or rudely coast ye, like our men of prise, The rough seas tempting, desperately erring, The ill of others in their good conferring?” The wise prince now his boldness did begin, For Pallas’ self had harden’d him within, By this device of travel to explore His absent father; which two girlonds wore; His good by manage of his spirits; and then To gain him high grace in th’ accounts of men. “O Nestor! still in whom Nelëus lives! And all the glory of the Greeks survives, You ask from whence we are, and I relate: From Ithaca (whose seat is situate Where Neius, the renownéd mountain, rears His haughty forehead, and the honour bears To be our sea-mark) we assay’d the waves. The business, I must tell, our own good craves, And not the public. I am come t’ enquire, If, in the fame that best men doth inspire Of my most-suff’ring father, I may hear Some truth of his estate now, who did bear The name, being join’d in fight with you alone, To even with earth the height of Ilion. Of all men else, that any name did bear, And fought for Troy, the sev’ral ends we hear; But his death Jove keeps from the world unknown, The certain fame thereof being told by none; If on the continent by enemies slain, Or with the waves eat of the ravenous main. For his love ’tis that to your knees I sue, That you would please, out of your own clear view, T’ assure his sad end; or say, if your ear Hath heard of the unhappy wanderer, To too much sorrow whom his mother bore. You then by all your bounties I implore, (If ever to you deed or word hath stood, By my good father promis’d, render’d good Amongst the Trojans, where ye both have tried The Grecian suff’rance) that in nought applied To my respect or pity you will glose, But uncloth’d truth to my desires disclose.” “O my much-lov’d,” said he, “since you renew Remembrance of the miseries that grew Upon our still-in-strength-opposing Greece Amongst Troy’s people, I must touch a piece Of all our woes there, either in the men Achilles brought by sea and led to gain About the country, or in us that fought About the city, where to death were brought All our chief men, as many as were there. There Mars-like Ajax lies; Achilles there; There the in-counsel-like-the-Gods, his friend; There my dear son Antilochus took end, Past measure swift of foot, and staid in fight. A number more that ills felt infinite; Of which to reckon all, what mortal man, If five or six years you should stay here, can Serve such enquiry? You would back again, Affected with unsufferable pain, Before you heard it. Nine years sieg’d we them, With all the depth and sleight of stratagem That could be thought. Ill knit to ill past end. Yet still they toil’d us; nor would yet Jove send Rest to our labours, nor will scarcely yet. But no man liv’d, that would in public set His wisdom by Ulysses’ policy, As thought his equal; so excessively He stood superior all ways. If you be His son indeed, mine eyes ev’n ravish me To admiration. And in all consent Your speech puts on his speech’s ornament. Nor would one say, that one so young could use, Unless his son, a rhetoric so profuse. And while we liv’d together, he and I Never in speech maintain’d diversity; Nor sat in council but, by one soul led, With spirit and prudent counsel furnishéd The Greeks at all hours, that, with fairest course, What best became them, they might put in force. But when Troy’s’ high tow’rs we had levell’d thus, We put to sea, and God divided us. And then did Jove our sad retreat devise; For all the Greeks were neither just nor wise, And therefore many felt so sharp a fate, Sent from Minerva’s most pernicious hate; Whose mighty Father can do fearful things. By whose help she betwixt the brother kings Let fall contention; who in council met In vain, and timeless, when the sun was set, And all the Greeks call’d, that came charg’d with wine. Yet then the kings would utter their design, And why they summon’d. Menelaus, he Put all in mind of home, and cried, To sea. But Agamemnon stood on contraries, Whose will was, they should stay and sacrifice Whole hecatombs to Pallas, to forego Her high wrath to them. Fool! that did not know She would not so be won; for not with ease Th’ Eternal Gods are turn’d from what they please. So they, divided, on foul language stood. The Greeks in huge rout rose, their wine-heat blood Two ways affecting. And, that night’s sleep too, We turn’d to studying either other’s woe; When Jove besides made ready woes enow. Morn came, we launch’d, and in our ships did stow Our goods, and fair-girt women. Half our men The people’s guide, Atrides, did contain, And half, being now aboard, put forth to sea. A most free gale gave all ships prosp’rous way. God settled then the huge whale-bearing lake, And Tenedos we reach’d; where, for time’s sake, We did divine rites to the Gods. But Jove, Inexorable still, bore yet no love To our return, but did again excite A second sad contention, that turn’d quite A great part of us back to sea again; Which were th’ abundant-in-all-counsels man, Your matchless father, who, to gratify The great Atrides, back to him did fly. But I fled all, with all that follow’d me, Because I knew God studied misery, To hurl amongst us. With me likewise fled Martial Tydides. I the men he led Gat to go with him. Winds our fleet did bring To Lesbos, where the yellow-headed king, Though late, yet found us, as we put to choice A tedious voyage; if we sail should hoise Above rough Chius, left on our left hand, To th’ isle of Psyria, or that rugged land Sail under, and for windy Mimas steer. We ask’d of God that some ostent might clear Our cloudy business, who gave us sign, And charge, that all should, in a middle line, The sea cut for Eubœa, that with speed Our long-sustain’d infortune might be freed. Then did a whistling wind begin to rise, And swiftly flew we through the fishy skies, Till to Geræstus we in night were brought; Where, through the broad sea since we safe had wrought, At Neptune’s altars many solid thighs Of slaughter’d bulls we burn’d for sacrifice. The fourth day came, when Tydeus’ son did greet The haven of Argos with his cómplete fleet. But I for Pylos straight steer’d on my course; Nor ever left the wind his foreright force, Since God fore-sent it first. And thus I came, Dear son, to Pylos, uninform’d by fame, Nor know one sav’d by Fate, or overcome. Whom I have heard of since, set here at home, As fits, thou shalt be taught, nought left unshown. The expert spear-men, ev’ry Myrmidon, Led by the brave heir of the mighty-soul’d Unpeer’d Achilles, safe of home got hold; Safe Philoctetes, Pœan’s famous seed; And safe Idomenæus his men led To his home, Crete, who fled the arméd field, Of whom yet none the sea from him withheld. Atrides, you have both heard, though ye be His far-off dwellers, what an end had he, Done by Ægisthus to a bitter death; Who miserably paid for forcéd breath, Atrides leaving a good son, that dyed, In blood of that deceitful parricide, His wreakful sword. And thou my friend, as he For this hath his fame, the like spirit in thee Assume at all parts. Fair and great, I see, Thou art in all hope, make it good to th’ end, That after-times as much may thee commend.” He answer’d: “O thou greatest grace of Greece, Orestes made that wreak his master-piece, And him the Greeks will give a master-praise, Verse finding him to last all after-days. And would to God the Gods would favour me With his performance, that my injury, Done by my mother’s Wooers, being so foul, I might revenge upon their ev’ry soul; Who, pressing me with contumelies, dare Such things as past the pow’r of utt’rance are. But Heav’n’s great Pow’rs have grac’d my destiny With no such honour. Both my sire and I Are born to suffer everlastingly.” “Because you name those Wooers, friend,” said he, “Report says, many such, in spite of thee, Wooing thy mother, in thy house commit The ills thou nam’st. But say: Proceedeth it From will in thee to bear so foul a foil? Or from thy subjects’ hate, that wish thy spoil, And will not aid thee, since their spirits rely, Against thy rule, on some grave augury? What know they, but at length thy father may Come, and with violence their violence pay; Or he alone, or all the Greeks with him? But if Minerva now did so esteem Thee, as thy father in times past; whom, past All measure, she with glorious favours grac’t Amongst the Trojans, where we suffer’d so; (O! I did never see, in such clear show, The Gods so grace a man, as she to him, To all our eyes, appear’d in all her trim) If so, I say, she would be pleas’d to love, And that her mind’s care thou so much couldst move, As did thy father, ev’ry man of these Would lose in death their seeking marriages.” “O father,” answer’d he, “you make amaze Seize me throughout. Beyond the height of phrase You raise expression; but ’twill never be, That I shall move in any Deity So blest an honour. Not by any means, If Hope should prompt me, or blind Confidence, (The Gods of Fools) or ev’ry Deity Should will it; for ’tis past my destiny.” The burning-eyed Dame answer’d: “What a speech Hath past the teeth-guard Nature gave to teach Fit question of thy words before they fly! God easily can[1] (when to mortal eye He’s furthest off) a mortal satisfy; And does the more still. For thy car’d-for sire, I rather wish, that I might home retire, After my suff’rance of a world of woes, Far off, and then my glad eyes might disclose The day of my return, then straight retire, And perish standing by my household fire; As Agamemnon did, that lost his life By false Ægisthus, and his falser wife. For Death to come at length, ’tis due to all; Nor can the Gods themselves, when Fate shall call Their most-lov’d man, extend his vital breath Beyond the fix’d bounds of abhorréd Death.” “Mentor!” said he, “let’s dwell no more on this, Although in us the sorrow pious is. No such return, as we wish, Fates bequeath My erring father; whom a present death The Deathless have decreed. I’ll now use speech That tends to other purpose; and beseech Instruction of grave Nestor, since he flows Past shore in all experience, and knows The sleights and wisdoms, and whose heights aspire Others, as well as my commended sire, Whom Fame reports to have commanded three Ages of men, and doth in sight to me Show like th’ Immortals. Nestor! the renown Of old Neleius, make the clear truth known, How the most-great-in-empire, Atreus’ son, Sustain’d the act of his destruction, Where then was Menelaus? How was it That false Ægisthus, being so far unfit A match for him, could his death so enforce? Was he not then in Argos? or his course With men so left, to let a coward breathe Spirit enough to dare his brother’s death?” “I’ll tell thee truth in all, fair son,” said he: “Right well was this event conceiv’d by thee. If Menelaus in his brother’s house Had found the idle liver with his spouse, Arriv’d from Troy, he had not liv’d, nor dead Had the digg’d heap pour’d on his lustful head, But fowls and dogs had torn him in the fields, Far off of Argos; not a dame it yields Had giv’n him any tear, so foul his fact Show’d ev’n to women. Us Troy’s wars had rack’d To ev’ry sinew’s sufferance, while he In Argos’ uplands liv’d, from those works free, And Agamemnon’s wife with force of word Flatter’d and soften’d, who, at first, abhorr’d A fact so infamous. The heav’nly dame A good mind had, but was in blood to blame. There was a poet, to whose care the king His queen committed, and in ev’ry thing, When he from Troy went, charg’d him to apply Himself in all guard to her dignity. But when strong Fate so wrapt-in her effects, That she resolv’d to leave her fit respects, Into a desert isle her guardian led, There left, the rapine of the vultures fed. Then brought he willing home his will’s won prize, On sacred altars offer’d many thighs, Hung in the God’s fanes many ornaments, Garments and gold, that he the vast events Of such a labour to his wish had brought, As neither fell into his hope nor thought. At last, from Troy sail’d Sparta’s king and I, Both holding her untouch’d. And, that his eye Might see no worse of her, when both were blown To sacred Sunium, of Minerva’s town The goodly promontory, with his shafts severe Augur Apollo slew him that did steer Atrides’ ship, as he the stern did guide, And she the full speed of her sail applied. He was a man that natións of men Excell’d in safe guide of a vessel, when A tempest rush’d in on the ruffled seas; His name was Phrontis Onetorides. And thus was Menelaus held from home, Whose way he thirsted so to overcome, To give his friend the earth, being his pursuit, And all his exequies to execute. But sailing still the wine-hued seas,[2] to reach Some shore for fit performance, he did fetch The steep mount of the Malians, and there, With open voice, offended Jupiter Proclaim’d the voyage his repugnant mind, And pour’d the puffs out of a shrieking wind, That nourish’d billows heighten’d like to hills; And with the fleet’s division fulfills His hate proclaim’d; upon a part of Crete Casting the navy, where the sea-waves meet Rough Jardanus, and where the Cydons live. There is a rock, on which the sea doth drive, Bare, and all broken, on the confines set Of Gortys, that the dark seas likewise fret; And hither sent the South a horrid drift Of waves against the top, that was the left Of that torn cliff as far as Phæstus’ strand. A little stone the great sea’s rage did stand. The men here driv’n ‘scap’d hard the ship’s sore shocks, The ships themselves being wrack’d against the rocks, Save only five, that blue fore-castles bore, Which wind and water cast on Egypt’s shore. When he (there victling well, and store of gold Aboard his ships brought) his wild way did hold, And t’ other languag’d men was forc’d to roam. Mean space Ægisthus made sad work at home, And slew his brother, forcing to his sway Atrides’ subjects, and did sev’n years lay His yoke upon the rich Mycenian state. But in the eighth, to his affrighting fate, Divine Orestes home from Athens came, And what his royal father felt, the same He made the false Ægisthus groan beneath. _Death evermore is the reward of death._ Thus having slain him, a sepulchral feast He made the Argives for his lustful guest, And for his mother whom he did detest. The self-same day upon him stole the king Good-at-a-martial-shout, and goods did bring, As many as his freighted fleet could bear. But thou, my son, too long by no means err, Thy goods left free for many a spoilful guest, Lest they consume some, and divide the rest, And thou, perhaps, besides, thy voyage lose. To Menelaus yet thy course dispose I wish and charge thee; who but late arriv’d From such a shore and men, as to have liv’d In a return from them he never thought, And whom black whirlwinds violently brought Within a sea so vast, that in a year Not any fowl could pass it anywhere, So huge and horrid was it. But go thou With ship and men (or, if thou pleasest now To pass by land, there shall be brought for thee Both horse and chariot, and thy guides shall be My sons themselves) to Sparta the divine, And to the king whose locks like amber shine. Intreat the truth of him, nor loves he lies, Wisdom in truth is, and he’s passing wise.” This said, the Sun went down, and up rose Night, When Pallas spake: “O father, all good right Bear thy directions. But divide we now The sacrifices’ tongues, mix wines, and vow To Neptune, and the other Ever-Blest, That, having sacrific’d, we may to rest. The fit hour runs now, light dives out of date, At sacred feasts we must not sit too late.” She said; they heard; the heralds water gave; The youths crown’d cups with wine, and let all have Their equal shares, beginning from the cup Their parting banquet. All the tongues cut up, The fire they gave them, sacrific’d, and rose, Wine, and divine rites us’d, to each dispose; Minerva and Telemachus desir’d They might to ship be, with his leave, retir’d. He, mov’d with that, provok’d thus their abodes: “Now Jove forbid, and all the long-liv’d Gods, Your leaving me, to sleep aboard a ship; As I had drunk of poor Penia’s whip, Even to my nakedness, and had nor sheet Nor cov’ring in my house; that warm nor sweet A guest, nor I myself, had means to sleep; Where I, both weeds and wealthy cov’rings keep For all my guests. Nor shall Fame ever say, The dear son of the man Ulysses lay All night a-ship-board here while my days shine, Or in my court whiles any son of mine Enjoys survival, who shall guests receive, Whomever my house hath a nook to leave.” “My much-lov’d father,” said Minerva, “well All this becomes thee. But persuade to dwell This night with thee thy son Telemachus, For more convenient is the course for us, That he may follow to thy house and rest, And I may board our black-sail, that addrest At all parts I may make our men, and cheer All with my presence, since of all men there I boast myself the senior, th’ others are Youths, that attend in free and friendly care Great-soul’d Telemachus, and are his peers In fresh similitude of form and years. For their confirmance, I will therefore now Sleep in our black bark. But, when light shall show Her silver forehead, I intend my way Amongst the Caucons, men that are to pay A debt to me, nor small, nor new. For this, Take you him home; whom in the morn dismiss, With chariot and your sons, and give him horse Ablest in strength, and of the speediest course” This said, away she flew, form’d like the fowl Men call the ossifrage; when ev’ry soul Amaze invaded; even th’ old man admir’d, The youth’s hand took, and said: “O most desir’d, My hope says thy proof will no coward show, Nor one unskill’d in war, when Deities now So young attend thee, and become thy guides; Nor any of the heav’n-hous’d States besides, But Tritogenia’s self, the Seed of Jove, The great-in-prey, that did in honour move So much about thy father, amongst all The Grecian army. Fairest queen, let fall On me like favours! Give me good renown! Which, as on me, on my lov’d wife let down, And all my children. I will burn to thee An ox right bred, broad-headed, and yoke-free, To no man’s hand yet humbled. Him will I, His horns in gold hid, give thy Deity.” Thus pray’d he, and she heard; and home he led His sons, and all his heaps of kindered. Who ent’ring his court royal, ev’ry one He marshall’d in his sev’ral seat and throne; And ev’ry one, so kindly come, he gave His sweet-wine cup; which none was let to have Before his ‘leventh year landed him from Troy; Which now the butleress had leave t’ employ, Who therefore pierc’d it, and did give it vent. Of this the old duke did a cup present To ev’ry guest; made his Maid many a pray’r That wears the shield fring’d with his nurse’s hair, And gave her sacrifice. With this rich wine And food suffic’d, sleep all eyes did decline, And all for home went; but his court alone Telemachus, divine Ulysses’ son, Must make his lodging, or not please his heart. A bed, all chequer’d with elaborate art, Within a portico that rung like brass, He brought his guest to; and his bedfere was Pisistratus, the martial guide of men, That liv’d, of all his sons, unwed till then. Himself lay in a by-room, far above, His bed made by his barren wife, his love. The rosy-finger’d Morn no sooner shone, But up he rose, took air, and sat upon A seat of white and goodly polish’d stone, That such a gloss as richest ointments wore, Before his high gates; where the counsellor That match’d the Gods (his father) us’d to sit, Who now, by fate forc’d, stoop’d as low as it. And here sat Nestor, holding in his hand A sceptre; and about him round did stand, As early up, his sons’ troop; Perseus, The god-like Thrasymed, and Aretus, Echephron, Stratius, and sixth and last Pisistratus, and by him (half embrac’d Still as they came) divine Telemachus; To these spake Nestor, old Gerenius: “Haste, lovéd sons, and do me a desire, That, first of all the Gods, I may aspire To Pallas’ favour, who vouchsaf’d to me At Neptune’s feast her sight so openly. Let one to field go, and an ox with speed Cause hither brought, which let the herdsman lead; Another to my dear guest’s vessel go, And all his soldiers bring, save only two; A third the smith that works in gold command (Laertius) to attend, and lend his hand, To plate the both horns round about with gold; The rest remain here close. But first, see told The maids within, that they prepare a feast, Set seats through all the court, see straight addrest The purest water, and get fuel fell’d.” This said, not one but in the service held Officious hand. The ox came led from field; The soldiers troop’d from ship; the smith he came, And those tools brought that serv’d the actual frame His art conceiv’d, brought anvil, hammers brought, Fair tongs, and all, with which the gold was wrought. Minerva likewise came, to set the crown On that kind sacrifice, and make ’t her own. Then th’ old knight Nestor gave the smith the gold, With which he straight did both the horns infold, And trimm’d the off’ring so, the Goddess joy’d. About which thus were Nestor’s sons employ’d: Divine Echephron, and fair Stratius, Held both the horns. The water odorous, In which they wash’d, what to the rites was vow’d, Aretus, in a caldron all bestrow’d With herbs and flowers, serv’d in from th’ holy room Where all were drest, and whence the rites must come. And after him a hallow’d virgin came, That brought the barley-cake, and blew the flame. The axe, with which the ox should both be fell’d And cut forth, Thrasymed stood by and held. Perseus the vessel held that should retain The purple liquor of the off’ring slain. Then wash’d the pious father, then the cake (Of barley, salt, and oil, made) took, and brake, Ask’d many a boon of Pallas, and the state Of all the off’ring did initiate, In three parts cutting off the hair, and cast Amidst the flame. All th’ invocation past, And all the cake broke, manly Thrasymed Stood near, and sure, and such a blow he laid Aloft the off’ring, that to earth he sunk, His neck-nerves sunder’d, and his spirits shrunk. Out shriek’d the daughters, daughter-in-laws, and wife Of three-ag’d Nestor, who had eldest life Of Clymen’s daughters, chaste Eurydice. The ox on broad earth then laid laterally They held, while duke Pisistratus the throat Dissolv’d, and set the sable blood afloat, And then the life the bones left. Instantly They cut him up; apart flew either thigh, That with the fat they dubb’d, with art alone, The throat-brisk, and the sweet-bread pricking on. Then Nestor broil’d them on the coal-turn’d wood, Pour’d black wine on; and by him young men stood, That spits fine-pointed held, on which, when burn’d The solid thighs were, they transfix’d, and turn’d The inwards, cut in cantles; which, the meat Vow’d to the Gods consum’d, they roast and eat. In mean space, Polycasté (call’d the fair, Nestor’s young’st daughter) bath’d Ulysses’ heir; Whom having cleans’d, and with rich balms bespread, She cast a white shirt quickly o’er his head, And then his weeds put on; when forth he went, And did the person of a God present, Came, and by Nestor took his honour’d seat, This pastor of the people. Then, the meat Of all the spare parts roasted, off they drew, Sat, and fell to. But soon the temp’rate few Rose, and in golden bowls fill’d others wine. Till, when the rest felt thirst of feast decline, Nestor his sons bad fetch his high-man’d horse, And them in chariot join, to run the course The prince resolv’d. Obey’d, as soon as heard, Was Nestor by his sons, who straight prepar’d Both horse and chariot. She that kept the store, Both bread and wine, and all such viands more, As should the feast of Jove-fed kings compose, Purvey’d the voyage. To the rich coach rose Ulysses’ son, and close to him ascended The duke Pisistratus, the reins intended, And scourg’d, to force to field, who freely flew; And left the town that far her splendour threw, Both holding yoke, and shook it all the day. But now the sun set, dark’ning ev’ry way, When they to Pheris came; and in the house Of Diocles (the son t’ Orsilochus, Whom flood Alphëus got) slept all that night; Who gave them each due hospitable rite. But when the rosy-finger’d Morn arose, They went to coach, and did their horse inclose, Drave forth the fore-court, and the porch that yields Each breath a sound, and to the fruitful fields Rode scourging still their willing flying steeds, Who strenuously perform’d their wonted speeds. Their journey ending just when sun went down, And shadows all ways through the earth were thrown.

FINIS LIBRI TERTII HOM. ODYSS.

[1] _Volente Deo, nihil est difficile._

[2] _Οἲνοπα πὀντον: οἲνοψ cujus facies vinum repræsentat._

THE FOURTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

Receiv’d now in the Spartan court, Telemachus prefers report To Menelaus of the throng Of Wooers with him, and their wrong. Atrides tells the Greeks’ retreat, And doth a prophecy repeat That Proteus made, by which he knew His brother’s death; and then doth show How with Calypso liv’d the sire Of his young guest. The Wooers conspire Their prince’s death. Whose treach’ry known, Penelope in tears doth drown. Whom Pallas by a dream doth cheer, And in similitude appear Of fair Iphthima, known to be The sister of Penelope.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

_Δἐλτα._ Here of the sire The son doth hear. The Wooers conspire. The Mother’s fear.

In Lacedæmon now, the nurse of whales,[1] These two arriv’d, and found at festivals, With mighty concourse, the renownéd king, His son and daughter jointly marrying. Alector’s daughter he did give his son, Strong Megapenthes, who his life begun By Menelaus’ bondmaid; whom he knew In years when Helen could no more renew In issue like divine Hermione, Who held in all fair form as high degree As golden Venus. Her he married now To great Achilles’ son, who was by vow Betroth’d to her at Troy, And thus the Gods To constant loves give nuptial periods. Whose state here past, the Myrmidons’ rich town (Of which she shar’d in the imperial crown) With horse and chariots he resign’d her to. Mean space, the high huge house with feast did flow Of friends and neighbours, joying with the king. Amongst whom did a heav’nly poet sing, And touch his harp. Amongst whom likewise danc’d Two, who in that dumb motion advanc’d, Would prompt the singer what to sing and play.[2] All this time in the utter court did stay, With horse and chariot, Telemachus, And Nestor’s noble son Pisistratus. Whom Eteoneus, coming forth, descried, And, being a servant to the king, most tried In care and his respect, he ran and cried: “Guests, Jove-kept Menelaus, two such men As are for form of high Saturnius’ strain. Inform your pleasure, if we shall unclose Their horse from coach, or say they must dispose Their way to some such house, as may embrace Their known arrival with more welcome grace?”

He, angry, answer’d: “Thou didst never show Thyself a fool, Boethides, till now; But now, as if turn’d child, a childish speech Vents thy vain spirits. We ourselves now reach Our home by much spent hospitality Of other men; nor know if Jove will try With other after-wants our state again; And therefore from our feast no more detain Those welcome guests, but take their steeds from coach, And with attendance guide in their approach.”

This said, he rush’d abroad, and call’d some more Tried in such service, that together bore Up to the guests, and took their steeds that swet Beneath their yokes from coach; at mangers set, Wheat and white barley gave them mix’d; and plac’d Their chariot by a wall so clear, it cast A light quite through it. And then they led Their guests to the divine house; which so fed Their eyes at all parts with illustrious sights, That admiration seiz’d them. Like the lights The sun and moon gave, all the palace threw A lustre through it. Satiate with whose view, Down to the king’s most bright-kept baths they went, Where handmaids did their services present, Bath’d, balm’d them, shirts and well-napt weeds put on, And by Atrides’ side set each his throne. Then did the handmaid-royal water bring, And to a laver, rich and glittering, Of massy gold, pour’d; which she plac’d upon A silver caldron, into which might run The water as they wash’d. Then set she near A polish’d table, on which all the cheer The present could afford a rev’rend dame, That kept the larder, set. A cook then came, And divers dishes, borne thence, serv’d again; Furnish’d the board with bowls of gold. And then, His right hand giv’n the guests, Atrides said: “Eat, and be cheerful. Appetite allay’d, I long to ask, of what stock ye descend; For not from parents whose race nameless end We must derive your offspring. Men obscure Could get none such as you. The portraiture Of Jove-sustain’d and sceptre-bearing kings Your either person in his presence brings.” An ox’s fat chine then they up did lift, And set before the guests; which was a gift, Sent as an honour to the king’s own taste. They saw yet ’twas but to be eaten plac’d, And fell to it. But food and wine’s care past, Telemachus thus prompted Nestor’s son, (His ear close laying, to be heard of none):[3]

“Consider, thou whom most of my mind esteems, The brass-work here, how rich it is in beams, And how, besides, it makes the whole house sound; What gold, and amber, silver, ivory, round Is wrought about it. Out of doubt, the hall Of Jupiter Olympius hath of all This state the like. How many infinites Take up to admiration all men’s sights!”

Atrides over-heard, and said: “Lov’d son, No mortal must affect contentión With Jove, whose dwellings are of endless date. Perhaps of men some one may emulate, Or none, my house, or me; for I am one That many a grave extreme have undergone, Much error felt by sea, and till th’ eighth year, Had never stay, but wander’d far and near, Cyprus, Phœnicia, and Sidonia, And fetch’d the far-off Æthiopia, Reach’d the Erembi of Arabia, And Lybia, where with horns ewes yean their lambs, Which ev’ry full year ewes are three times dams, Where neither king, nor shepherd, want comes near Of cheese, or flesh, or sweet milk; all the year They ever milk their ewes. And here while I Err’d, gath’ring means to live, one, murd’rously, Unwares, unseen, bereft my brother’s life, Chiefly betray’d by his abhorréd wife. So hold I, not enjoying, what you see. And of your fathers, if they living be, You must have heard this, since my suff’rings were So great and famous; from this palace here (So rarely-well-built, furnishéd so well, And substancéd with such a precious deal Of well-got treasure) banish’d by the doom Of Fate, and erring as I had no home. And now I have, and use it, not to take Th’ entire delight it offers, but to make Continual wishes, that a triple part Of all it holds were wanting, so my heart Were eas’d of sorrows, taken for their deaths That fell at Troy, by their revivéd breaths. And thus sit I here weeping, mourning still Each least man lost; and sometimes make mine ill, In paying just tears for their loss, my joy. Sometimes I breathe my woes, for in annoy The pleasure soon admits satiety. But all these men’s wants wet not so mine eye, Though much they move me, as one sole man’s miss, For which my sleep and meat ev’n loathsome is In his renew’d thought, since no Greek hath won Grace for such labours as Laërtes’ son Hath wrought and suffer’d, to himself nought else But future sorrows forging, to me hells For his long absence, since I cannot know If life or death detain him; since such woe For his love, old Laërtes, his wise wife, And poor young son sustains, whom new with life He left as sireless.” This speech grief to tears (Pour’d from the son’s lids on the earth) his ears, Told of the father, did excite; who kept His cheeks dry with his red weed as he wept, His both hands us’d therein. Atrides then Began to know him, and did strife retain, If he should let himself confess his sire, Or with all fitting circumstance enquire.

While this his thoughts disputed, forth did shine, Like to the golden distaff-deck’d Divine, From her bed’s high and odoriferous room, Helen. To whom, of an elaborate loom, Adresta set a chair; Alcippe brought A piece of tapestry of fine wool wrought; Phylo a silver cabinet conferr’d, Giv’n by Alcandra, nuptially endear’d To lord Polybius, whose abode in Thebes Th’ Ægyptian city was, where wealth in heaps His famous house held, out of which did go, In gift t’ Atrides, silver bath-tubs two, Two tripods, and of fine gold talents ten. His wife did likewise send to Helen then Fair gifts, a distaff that of gold was wrought, And that rich cabinet that Phylo brought, Round, and with gold ribb’d, now of fine thread full; On which extended (crown‘d with finest wool, Of violet gloss) the golden distaff-lay.

She took her state-chair, and a foot-stool’s stay Had for her feet; and of her husband thus Ask’d to know all things: “Is it known to us, King Menelaus, whom these men commend Themselves for, that our court now takes to friend? I must affirm, be I deceiv’d or no, I never yet saw man nor woman so Like one another, as this man is like Ulysses’ son. With admiration strike His looks my thoughts, that they should carry now Pow’r to persuade me thus, who did but know, When newly he was born, the form they bore. But ’tis his father’s grace, whom more and more His grace resembles, that makes me retain Thought that he now is like Telemachus, then Left by his sire, when Greece did undertake Troy’s bold war for my impudency’s sake.”

He answer’d: “Now wife, what you think I know, The true cast of his father’s eye doth show In his eyes’ order. Both his head and hair, His hands and feet, his very father’s are. Of whom, so well remember’d, I should now Acknowledge for me his continual flow Of cares and perils, yet still patient. But I should too much move him, that doth vent Such bitter tears for that which hath been spoke, Which, shunning soft show, see how he would cloak, And with his purple weed his weepings hide.”

Then Nestor’s son, Pisistratus, replied: “Great pastor of the people, kept of God! He is Ulysses’ son, but his abode Not made before here, and he modest too, He holds it an indignity to do A deed so vain, to use the boast of words, Where your words are on wing; whose voice affords Delight to us as if a God did break The air amongst us, and vouchsafe to speak. But me my father, old duke Nestor, sent To be his consort hither; his content Not to be heighten’d so as with your sight, In hope that therewith words and actions might Inform his comforts from you, since he is Extremely griev’d and injur’d by the miss Of his great father; suff’ring ev’n at home, And few friends found to help him overcome His too weak suff’rance, now his sire is gone; Amongst the people, not afforded one To check the miseries that mate him thus. And this the state is of Telemachus.”

“O Gods,” said he, “how certain, now, I see My house enjoys that friend’s son, that for me Hath undergone so many willing fights! Whom I resolv’d, past all the Grecian knights, To hold in love, if our return by seas The far-off Thunderer did ever please To grant our wishes. And to his respect A palace and a city to erect, My vow had bound me; whither bringing then His riches, and his son, and all his men, From barren Ithaca, (some one sole town Inhabited about him batter’d down) All should in Argos live. And there would I Ease him of rule, and take the empery Of all on me. And often here would we, Delighting, loving either’s company, Meet and converse; whom nothing should divide, Till death’s black veil did each all over hide. But this perhaps hath been a mean to take Ev’n God himself with envy; who did make Ulysses therefore only the unblest, That should not reach his loved country’s rest.”

These woes made ev’ry one with woe in love; Ev’n Argive Helen wept, the Seed of Jove; Ulysses’ son wept; Atreus’ son did weep; And Nestor’s son his eyes in tears did steep, But his tears fell not from the present cloud That from Ulysses was exhal’d, but flow’d From brave Antilochus’ remember’d due, Whom the renown’d Son of the Morning slew, Which yet he thus excus’d: “O Atreus’ son! Old Nestor says, there lives not such a one Amongst all mortals as Atrides is For deathless wisdom. ’Tis a praise of his, Still giv’n in your remembrance, when at home Our speech concerns you. Since then overcome You please to be with sorrow, ev’n to tears, That are in wisdom so exempt from peers, Vouchsafe the like effect in me excuse, If it be lawful, I affect no use Of tears thus after meals; at least, at night; But when the morn brings forth, with tears, her light, It shall not then impair me to bestow My tears on any worthy’s overthrow. It is the only rite that wretched men Can do dead friends, to cut hair, and complain. But Death my brother took, whom none could call The Grecian coward, you best knew of all. I was not there, nor saw, but men report Antilochus excell’d the common sort For footmanship, or for the chariot race, Or in the fight for hardy hold of place.”

“O friend,” said he, “since thou hast spoken so, At all parts as one wise should say and do, And like one far beyond thyself in years, Thy words shall bounds be to our former tears. O he is questionless a right-born son, That of his father hath not only won The person but the wisdom; and that sire Complete himself that hath a son entire, Jove did not only his full fate adorn, When he was wedded, but when he was born. As now Saturnius, through his life’s whole date, Hath Nestor’s bliss rais’d to as steep a state, Both in his age to keep in peace his house, And to have children wise and valorous. But let us not forget our rear feast thus. Let some give water here. Telemachus! The morning shall yield time to you and me To do what fits, and reason mutually.”

This said, the careful servant of the king, Asphalion, pour’d on th’ issue of the spring; And all to ready feast set ready hand. But Helen now on new device did stand, Infusing straight a medicine to their wine, That, drowning care and angers; did decline All thought of ill. Who drunk her cup could shed All that day not a tear, no not if dead That day his father or his mother were, Not if his brother, child, or chiefest dear, He should see murder’d then before his face. Such useful medicines, only borne in grace Of what was good, would Helen ever have. And this juice to her Polydamna gave The wife of Thoon, an Ægyptian born, Whose rich earth herbs of medicine do adorn In great abundance. Many healthful are, And many baneful. Ev’ry man is there A good physician out of Nature’s grace, For all the nation sprung of Pæon’s race.

When Helen then her medicine had infus’d, She bad pour wine to it, and this speech us’d:

“Atrides, and these good men’s sons, great Jove Makes good and ill one after other move, In all things earthly; for he can do all. The woes past, therefore, he so late let fall, The comforts he affords us let us take; Feast, and, with fit discourses, merry make. Nor will I other use. As then our blood Griev’d for Ulysses, since he was so good, Since he was good, let us delight to hear How good he was, and what his suff’rings were; Though ev’ry fight, and ev’ry suff’ring deed, Patient Ulysses underwent, exceed My woman’s pow’r to number, or to name. But what he did, and suffer’d, when he came Amongst the Trojans, where ye Grecians all Took part with suff’rance, I in part can call To your kind memories. How with ghastly wounds Himself he mangled, and the Trojan bounds, Thrust thick with enemies, adventur’d on, His royal shoulders having cast upon Base abject weeds, and enter’d like a slave. Then, beggar-like, he did of all men crave, And such a wretch was, as the whole Greek fleet Brought not besides. And thus through ev’ry street He crept discov’ring, of no one man known. And yet through all this diff’rence, I alone Smoked his true person, talk’d with him; but he Fled me with wiles still. Nor could we agree, Till I disclaim’d him quite; and so (as mov’d With womanly remorse of one that prov’d So wretched an estate, whate’er he were) Won him to take my house. And yet ev’n there, Till freely I, to make him doubtless, swore A pow’rful oath, to let him reach the shore Of ships and tents before Troy understood, I could not force on him his proper good. But then I bath’d and sooth’d him, and he then Confess’d, and told me all; and, having slain A number of the Trojan guards, retir’d, And reach’d the fleet, for sleight and force admir’d. Their husbands’ deaths by him the Trojan wives Shriek’d for; but I made triumphs for their lives, For then my heart conceiv’d, that once again I should reach home; and yet did still retain Woe for the slaughters Venus made for me, When both my husband, my Hermione, And bridal room, she robb’d of so much right, And drew me from my country with her sleight, Though nothing under heaven I here did need, That could my fancy or my beauty feed.”

Her husband said: “Wife! what you please to tell Is true at all parts, and becomes you well; And I myself, that now may say have seen The minds and manners of a world of men, And great heroes, measuring many a ground, Have never, by these eyes that light me, found One with a bosom so to be belov’d, As that in which th’ accomplish’d spirit mov’d Of patient Ulysses. What, brave man, He both did act, and suffer, when he wan The town of Ilion, in the brave-built horse, When all we chief states of the Grecian force Were hous’d together, bringing death and Fate Amongst the Trojans, you, wife, may relate; For you, at last, came to us; God, that would The Trojans’ glory give, gave charge you should Approach the engine; and Deiphobus, The god-like, follow’d. Thrice ye circled us With full survey of it; and often tried The hollow crafts that in it were implied.[4] When all the voices of their wives in it You took on you with voice so like and fit, And ev’ry man by name so visited, That I, Ulysses, the king Diomed, (Set in the midst, and hearing how you call’d) Tydides, and myself (as half appall’d With your remorseful plaints) would passing fain Have broke our silence, rather than again Endure, respectless, their so moving cries. But Ithacus our strongest phantasies Contain’d within us from the slenderest noise, And ev’ry man there sat without a voice. Anticlus only would have answer’d thee, But his speech Ithacus incessantly With strong hand held in, till, Minerva’s call Charging thee off, Ulysses sav’d us all.”

Telemachus replied: “Much greater is My grief, for hearing this high praise of his. For all this doth not his sad death divert, Nor can, though in him swell’d an iron heart. Prepare, and lead then, if you please, to rest: Sleep, that we hear not, will content us best.” Then Argive Helen made her handmaid go, And put fair bedding in the portico, Lay purple blankets on, rugs warm and soft, And cast an arras coverlet aloft.

They torches took, made haste, and made the bed; When both the guests were to their lodgings led Within a portico without the house. Atrides, and his large-train-wearing spouse, The excellent of women, for the way, In a retir’d receit, together lay. The Morn arose; the king rose, and put on His royal weeds, his sharp sword hung upon His ample shoulders, forth his chamber went, And did the person of a God present.

Telemachus accosts him, who begun Speech of his journey’s proposition:

“And what, my young Ulyssean heroë, Provok’d thee on the broad back of the sea, To visit Lacedæmon the divine? Speak truth, some public [good] or only thine?”

“I come,” said he, “to hear, if any fame Breath’d of my father to thy notice came. My house is sack’d, my fat works of the field Are all destroy’d; my house doth nothing yield But enemies, that kill my harmless sheep, And sinewy oxen, nor will ever keep Their steels without them. And these men are they That woo my mother, most inhumanly Committing injury on injury. To thy knees therefore I am come, t’ attend Relation of the sad and wretched end My erring father felt, if witness’d by Your own eyes, or the certain news that fly From others’ knowledges. For, more than is The usual heap of human miseries, His mother bore him to. Vouchsafe me then, Without all ruth of what I can sustain, The plain and simple truth of all you know. Let me beseech so much, if ever vow Was made, and put in good effect to you, At Troy, where suff’rance bred you so much smart, Upon my father good Ulysses’ part, And quit it now to me (himself in youth) Unfolding only the uncloséd truth.”