Chapter VI: Part 6

The much-sustaining, patient, heav’nly man, Whom Toil and Sleep had worn so weak and wan,[1] Thus won his rest. In mean space Pallas went To the Phæacian city, and descent That first did broad Hyperia’s lands divide, Near the vast Cyclops, men of monstrous pride, That prey’d on those Hyperians, since they were Of greater pow’r; and therefore longer there Divine Nausithous dwelt not, but arose, And did for Scheria all his pow’rs dispose; Far from ingenious art-inventing men But there did he erect a city then, First drew a wall round, then he houses builds, And then a temple to the Gods, the fields Lastly dividing. But he, stoop’d by Fate, Div’d to th’ infernals; and Alcinous sate In his command, a man the Gods did teach Commanding counsels. His house held the reach Of grey Minerva’s project, to provide That great-soul’d Ithacus might be supplied With all things fitting his return. She went Up to the chamber, where the fair descent Of great Alcinous slept; a maid, whose parts In wit and beauty wore divine deserts. Well-deck’d her chamber was; of which the door Did seem to lighten, such a gloss it bore Betwixt the posts, and now flew ope to find The Goddess entry. Like a puft of wind She reach’d the virgin bed; neat which there lay Two maids, to whom the Graces did convey Figure and manners. But above the head Of bright Nausicaa did Pallas tread The subtle air, and put the person on Of Dymas’ daughter, from comparison Exempt in business naval. Like his seed Minerva look’d now; whom one year did breed[2] With bright Nausicaa, and who had gain’d Grace in her love, yet on her thus complain’d: “Nausicaa! Why bred thy mother one So negligent in rites so stood upon By other virgins? Thy fair garments lie Neglected by thee, yet thy nuptials nigh; When rich in all attire both thou shouldst be, And garments give to others honouring thee, That lead thee to the temple. Thy good name Grows amongst men for these things; they inflame Father and rev’rend mother with delight. Come, when the Day takes any wink from Night, Let’s to the river, and repurify Thy wedding garments. My society Shall freely serve thee for thy speedier aid, Because thou shalt no mote stand on the maid. The best of all Phæacia woo thy grace, Where thou wert bred, and ow’st thyself a race. Up, and stir up to thee thy honour’d sire, To give thee mules and coach, thee and thy tire, Veils, girdles, mantles, early to the flood To bear in state. It suits thy high-born blood, And far more fits thee, than to foot so far, For far from town thou know’st the bath-founts are.” This said, away blue-eyed Minerva went Up to Olympus, the firm continent That bears in endless being the Deified kind, That’s neither sous’d with show’rs, nor shook with wind, Nor chill’d with snow, but where Serenity flies Exempt from clouds, and ever-beamy skies Circle the glitt’ring hill, and all their days Give the delights of blesséd Deity praise. And hither Pallas flew, and left the maid, When she had all that might excite her said. Straight rose the lovely Morn, that up did raise Fair-veil’d Nausicaa, whose dream her praise To admiration took; who no time spent To give the rapture of her vision vent To her lov’d parents, whom she found within. Her mother set at fire, who had to spin A rock, whose tincture with sea-purple shin’d; Her maids about her. But she chanc’d to find Her father going abroad, to council call’d By his grave Senate. And to him exhal’d Her smother’d bosom was: “Lov’d sire,” said she,[3] “Will you not now command a coach for me, Stately and cómplete, fit for me to bear To wash at flood the weeds I cannot wear Before repurified? Yourself it fits To wear fair weeds, as ev’ry man that sits In place of council. And five sons you have, Two wed, three bachelors, that must be brave In ev’ry day’s shift, that they may go dance; For these three last with these things must advance Their states in marriage, and who else but I, Their sister, should their dancing rites supply?” This gen’ral cause she show’d, and would not name Her mind of nuptials to her sire, for shame. He understood her yet, and thus replied: “Daughter! nor these, nor any grace beside, I either will deny thee, or defer, Mules, nor a coach, of state and circular, Fitting at all parts. Go, my servants shall Serves thy desires, and thy command in all.” The servants then commanded soon obey’d, Fetch’d coach, and mules join’d in it. Then the Maid Brought from the chamber her rich weeds, and laid All up in coach; in which her mother plac’d A maund of victuals, varied well in taste, And other junkets. Wine she likewise fill’d Within a goat-skin bottle, and distill’d Sweet and moist oil into a golden cruse, Both for her daughter’s, and her handmaid’s, use, To soften their bright bodies, when they rose Cleans’d from their cold baths. Up to coach then goes Th’ observéd Maid, takes both the scourge and reins, And to her side her handmaid straight attains. Nor these alone, but other virgins, grac’d The nuptial chariot. The whole bevy plac’d, Nausicaa scourg’d to make the coach-mules run, That neigh’d, and pac’d their usual speed, and soon Both maids and weeds brought to the river-side, Where baths for all the year their use supplied, Whose waters were so pure they would not stain, But still ran fair forth, and did more remain Apt to purge stains, for that purg’d stain within, Which by the water’s pure store was not seen. These, here arriv’d, the mules uncoach’d, and drave Up to the gulfy river’s shore, that gave Sweet grass to them. The maids from coach then took Their clothes, and steep’d them in the sable brook: Then put them into springs, and trod them clean With cleanly feet; adventuring wagers then Who should have soonest and most cleanly done. When having thoroughly cleans’d, they spread them on The flood’s shore, all in order. And then, where The waves the pebbles wash’d, and ground was clear, They bath’d themselves, and all with glitt’ring oil Smooth’d their white skins; refreshing then their toil With pleasant dinner, by the river-side; Yet still watch’d when the sun their clothes had dried. Till which time, having din’d, Nausicaa With other virgins did at stool-ball play, Their shoulder-reaching head-tires laying by. Nausicaa, with the wrists of ivory, The liking stroke struck, singing first a song, As custom order’d, and amidst the throng Made such a show, and so past all was seen, As when the chaste-born, arrow-loving, Queen, Along the mountains gliding, either over Spartan Taygetus, whose tops far discover, Or Eurymanthus, in the wild boar’s chace, Or swift-hov’d hart, and with her Jove’s fair race, The field Nymphs, sporting; amongst whom, to see How far Diana had priority, Though all were fair, for fairness yet of all, As both by head and forehead being more tall, Latona triumph’d, since the dullest sight Might eas’ly judge whom her pains brought to light; Nausicaa so, whom never husband tam’d, Above them all in all the beauties flam’d. But when they now made homewards, and array’d, Ord’ring their weeds disorder’d as they play’d, Mules and coach ready, then Minerva thought What means to wake Ulysses might be wrought, That he might see this lovely-sighted maid, Whom she intended should become his aid, Bring him to town, and his return advance. Her mean was this, though thought a stool-ball chance:[4] The queen now, for the upstroke, struck the ball Quite wide off th’ other maids, and made it fall Amidst the whirlpools. At which out shriek’d all, And with the shriek did wise Ulysses wake; Who, sitting up, was doubtful who should make That sudden outcry, and in mind thus striv’d: “On what a people am I now arriv’d? At civil hospitable men, that fear The Gods? Or dwell injurious mortals here? Unjust, and churlish? Like the female cry Of youth it sounds. What are they? Nymphs bred high On tops of hills, or in the founts of floods, In herby marshes, or in leafy woods? Or are they high-spoke men I now am near? I’ll prove, and see.” With this, the wary peer Crept forth the thicket, and an olive bough Broke with his broad hand, which he did bestow In covert of his nakedness, and then Put hasty head out. Look how from his den A mountain lion looks, that, all embrued With drops of trees, and weather-beaten-hued, Bold of his strength, goes on, and in his eye A burning furnace glows, all bent to prey On sheep, or oxen, or the upland hart, His belly charging him, and he must part Stakes with the herdsman in his beasts’ attempt, Ev’n where from rape their strengths are most exempt; So wet, so weather-beat, so stung with need, Ev’n to the home-fields of the country’s breed Ulysses was to force forth his access, Though merely naked; and his sight did press The eyes of soft-hair’d virgins. Horrid was His rough appearance to them; the hard pass He had at sea stuck by him. All in flight The virgins scatter’d, frighted with this sight, About the prominent windings of the flood. All but Nausicaa fled; but she fast stood, Pallas had put a boldness in her breast, And in her fair limbs tender fear comprest. And still she stood him, as resolv’d to know What man he was, or out of what should grow His strange repair to them. And here was he Put to his wisdom; if her virgin knee He should be bold, but kneeling, to embrace, Or keep aloof, and try with words of grace, In humblest suppliance, if he might obtain Some cover for his nakedness, and gain Her grace to show and guide him to the town. The last he best thought, to be worth his own, In weighing both well; to keep still aloof, And give with soft words his desires their proof, Lest, pressing so near as to touch her knee, He might incense her maiden modesty. This fair and fil’d speech then shew’d this was he: “Let me beseech, O queen, this truth of thee, Are you of mortal, or the defied, race? If of the Gods, that th’ ample heav’ns embrace, I can resemble you to none above So near as to the chaste-born birth of Jove, The beamy Cynthia. Her you full present, In grace of ev’ry God-like lineament, Her goodly magnitude, and all th’ address You promise of her very perfectness. If sprung of humans, that inhabit earth, Thrice blest are both the authors of your birth, Thrice blest your brothers, that in your deserts Must, ev’n to rapture, bear delighted hearts, To see, so like the first trim of a tree, Your form adorn a dance. But most blest he, Of all that breathe, that hath the gift t’ engage Your bright neck in the yoke of marriage, And deck his house with your commanding merit I have not seen a man of so much spirit, Nor man, nor woman, I did ever see, At all parts equal to the parts in thee. T’ enjoy your sight, doth admiration seize My eyes, and apprehensive faculties. Lately in Delos (with a charge of men Arriv’d, that render’d me most wretched then, Now making me thus naked) I beheld The burthen of a palm, whose issue swell’d About Apollo’s fane, and that put on A grace like thee; for Earth had never none Of all her sylvan issue so adorn’d. Into amaze my very soul was turn’d, To give it observation; as now thee To view, O virgin, a stupidity Past admiration strikes me, join’d with fear To do a suppliant’s due, and press so near, As to embrace thy knees. Nor is it strange, For one of fresh and firmest spirit would change T’ embrace so bright an object. But, for me, A cruel habit of calamity Prepar’d the strong impression thou hast made; For this last day did fly night’s twentieth shade Since I, at length, escap’d the sable seas; When in the mean time th’ unrelenting prease Of waves and stern storms toss’d me up and down, From th’ isle Ogygia. And now God hath thrown My wrack on this shore, that perhaps I may My mis’ries vary here; for yet their stay, I fear, Heav’n hath not order’d, though, before These late afflictions, it hath lent me store. O queen, deign pity then, since first to you My fate importunes my distress to vow. No other dame, nor man, that this Earth own, And neighbour city, I have seen or known. The town then show me; give my nakedness Some shroud to shelter it, if to these seas Linen or woollen you have brought to cleanse. God give you, in requital, all th’ amends Your heart can wish, a husband, family, And good agreement. Nought beneath the sky More sweet, more worthy is, than firm consent Of man and wife in household government. It joys their wishers-well, their enemies wounds, But to themselves the special good redounds.” She answer’d: “Stranger! I discern in thee Nor sloth, nor folly, reigns; and yet I see Th’ art poor and wretched. In which I conclude, That industry nor wisdom make endued Men with those gifts that make them best to th’ eye; Jove only orders man’s felicity. To good and bad his pleasure fashions still The whole proportion of their good and ill. And he, perhaps, hath form’d this plight in thee, Of which thou must be patient, as he free. But after all thy wand’rings, since thy way, Both to our earth, and near our city, lay, As being expos’d to our cares to relieve, Weeds, and what else a human hand should give To one so suppliant and tam’d with woe, Thou shalt not want. Our city I will show, And tell our people’s name: This neighbour town, And all this kingdom, the Phæacians own. And (since thou seem’dst so fain to know my birth, And mad’st a question, if of heav’n or earth.) This earth hath bred me; and my father’s name Alcinous is, that in the pow’r and frame Of this isle’s rule is supereminent.” Thus, passing him, she to the virgins went, And said: “Give stay both to your feet and fright. Why thus disperse ye for a man’s mere sight? Esteem you him a Cyclop, that long since Made use to prey upon our citizens? This man no moist man is, (nor wat’rish thing,[5] That’s ever flitting, ever ravishing All it can compass; and, like it, doth range In rape of women, never stay’d in change). This man is truly manly, wise, and stay’d,[6] In soul more rich the more to sense decay’d, Who nor will do, nor suffer to be done, Acts lewd and abject; nor can such a one Greet the Phæacians with a mind envíous, Dear to the Gods they are, and he is pious, Besides, divided from the world we are, The out-part of it, billows circular The sea revolving round about our shore; Nor is there any man that enters more Than our own countrymen, with what is brought From other countries. This man, minding nought But his relief, a poor unhappy wretch, Wrack’d here, and hath no other land to fetch, Him now we must provide for. From Jove come[7] All strangers, and the needy of a home, Who any gift, though ne’er so small it be, Esteem as great, and take it gratefully. And therefore, virgins, give the stranger food, And wine; and see ye bathe him in the flood, Near to some shore to shelter most inclin’d. _To cold-bath-bathers hurtful is the wind,_ Not only rugged making th’ outward skin, But by his thin pow’rs pierceth parts within.’ This said, their flight in a return they set, And did Ulysses with all grace entreat, Show’d him a shore, wind-proof, and full of shade, By him a shirt and utter mantle laid, A golden jug of liquid oil did add, Bad wash, and all things as Nausicaa bad. Divine Ulysses would not use their aid; But thus bespake them: “Ev’ry lovely maid, Let me entreat to stand a little by,[8] That I, alone, the fresh flood may apply To cleanse my bosom of the sea-wrought brine, And then use oil, which long time did not shine On my poor shoulders. I’ll not wash in sight Of fair-hair’d maidens. I should blush outright, To bathe all-bare by such a virgin light.” They mov’d, and mus’d a man had so much grace, And told their mistress what a man he was. He cleans’d his broad soil’d shoulders, back, and head Yet never tam’d, but now had foam and weed Knit in the fair curls. Which dissolv’d, and he Slick’d all with sweet oil, the sweet charity The untouch’d virgin show’d in his attire He cloth’d him with. Then Pallas put a fire, More than before, into his sparkling eyes, His late soil set off with his soon fresh guise. His locks, cleans’d, curl’d the more, and match’d, in pow’r To please an eye, the hyacinthian flow’r. And as a workman, that can well combine Silver and gold, and make both strive to shine, As being by Vulcan, and Minerva too, Taught how far either may be urg’d to go In strife of eminence, when work sets forth A worthy soul to bodies of such worth, No thought reproving th’ act, in any place, Nor Art no debt to Nature’s liveliest grace; So Pallas wrought in him a grace as great From head to shoulders, and ashore did seat His goodly presence. To which such a guise He show’d in going, that it ravish’d eyes. All which continued, as he sat apart, Nausicaa’s eye struck wonder through her heart, Who thus bespake her consorts: “Hear me, you Fair-wristed virgins! This rare man, I know, Treads not our country-earth, against the will Of some God thronéd on th’ Olympian hill. He show’d to me, till now, not worth the note, But now he looks as he had godhead got. I would to heav’n my husband were no worse, And would be call’d no better, but the course Of other husbands pleas’d to dwell out here. Observe and serve him with our utmost cheer.” She said, they heard and did. He drunk and eat Like to a harpy, having touch’d no meat A long before time. But Nausicaa now Thought of the more grace she did lately vow, Had horse to chariot join’d, and up she rose, Up cheer’d her guest, and said: “Guest, now dispose Yourself for town, that I may let you see My father’s court, where all the peers will be Of our Phæacian state. At all parts, then, Observe to whom and what place y’ are t’ attain; Though I need usher you with no advice, Since I suppose you absolutely wise. While we the fields pass, and men’s labours there, So long, in these maids’ guides, directly bear Upon my chariot (I must go before For cause that after comes, to which this more Be my induction) you shall then soon end Your way to town, whose tow’rs you see ascend[9] To such a steepness. On whose either side A fair port stands, to which is nothing wide An ent’rer’s passage; on whose both hands ride Ships in fair harbours; which once past, you win The goodly market-place (that circles in A fane to Neptune, built of curious stone, And passing ample) where munitión, Gables, and masts, men make, and polish’d oars; For the Phæacians are not conquerors By bows nor quivers; oars, masts, ships they are With which they plough the sea, and wage their war. And now the cause comes why I lead the way, Not taking you to coach: The men, that sway In work of those tools that so fit our state, Are rude mechanicals, that rare and late Work in the market-place; and those are they Whose bitter tongues I shun, who straight would say (For these vile vulgars are extremely proud, And foully-languag’d) ‘What is he, allow’d To coach it with Nausicaa, so large set, And fairly fashion’d? Where were these two met? He shall be sure her husband. She hath been Gadding in some place, and, of foreign men Fitting her fancy, kindly brought him home In her own ship. He must, of force, be come From some far region; we have no such man. It may be, praying hard, when her heart ran On some wish’d husband, out of heav’n some God Dropp’d in her lap; and there lies she at road Her cómplete life time. But, in sooth, if she, Ranging abroad, a husband, such as he Whom now we saw, laid hand on, she was wise, For none of all our nobles are of prize Enough for her; he must beyond sea come, That wins her high mind, and will have her home. Of our peers many have importun’d her, Yet she will none.’ Thus these folks will confer Behind my back; or, meeting, to my face The foul-mouth rout dare put home this disgrace; And this would be reproaches to my fame, For, ev’n myself just anger would inflame, If any other virgin I should see, Her parents living, keep the company Of any man to any end of love, Till open nuptials should her act approve. And therefore hear me, guest, and take such way, That you yourself may compass, in your stay, Your quick deduction by my father’s grace, And means to reach the root of all your race. We shall, not far out of our way to town, A never-fell’d grove find, that poplars crown, To Pallas sacred, where a fountain flows, And round about the grove a meadow grows, In which my father holds a manor-house, Deck’d all with orchards, green, and odorous, As far from town as one may hear a shout. There stay, and rest your foot-pains, till full out We reach the city; where, when you may guess We are arriv’d, and enter our access Within my father’s court, then put you on For our Phæacian state, where, to be shown My father’s house, desire. Each infant there Can bring you to it; and yourself will clear Distinguish it from others, for no shows The city-buildings make compar’d with those That king Alcinous’ seat doth celebrate. In whose roofs, and the court (where men of state, And suitors sit and stay) when you shall hide, Straight pass it, ent’ring further, where abide My mother, with her withdrawn housewif’ries, Who still sits in the fire-shine, and applies Her rock, all-purple, and of pompous show, Her chair plac’d ’gainst a pillar, all-a-row Her maids behind her set; and to her here My father’s dining-throne looks, seated where He pours his choice of wine in, like a God. This view once past, for th’ end of your abode, Address suit to my mother, that her mean May make the day of your redition seen, And you may frolic straight, though far away You are in distance from your wishéd stay. For, if she once be won to wish you well, Your hope may instantly your passport seal, And thenceforth sure abide to see your friends, Fair house, and all to which your heart contends.” This said, she us’d her shining scourge, and lash’d Her mules, that soon the shore left where she wash’d, And, knowing well the way, their pace was fleet, And thick they gather’d up their nimble feet. Which yet she temper’d so, and us’d her scourge[10] With so much skill, as not to over-urge The foot behind, and make them straggle so From close society. Firm together go Ulysses and her maids. And now the sun Sunk to the waters, when they all had won The never-fell’d, and sound-exciting, wood, Sacred to Pallas; where the god-like good Ulysses rested, and to Pallas pray’d: “Hear me, of goat-kept Jove th’ unconquer’d Maid![11] Now throughly hear me, since, in all the time Of all my wrack, my pray’rs could never climb Thy far-off ears; when noiseful Neptune toss’d Upon his wat’ry bristles my emboss’d And rock-torn body. Hear yet now, and deign I may of the Phæacian state obtain Pity, and grace.” Thus pray’d he, and she heard, By no means yet, expos’d to sight, appear’d, For fear t’ offend her uncle, the supreme Of all the Sea-Gods, whose wrath still extreme Stood to Ulysses; and would never cease, Till with his country shore he crown’d his peace.

FINIS LIBRI SEXTI HOM. ODYSS.

[1] _ϒπνῳ καἱ καμἀτῳ ἁρημένος. Sonno et labore afflictus._ Sleep (_καταχρηστικω̑ς_) for the want of sleep.

[2] Intending Dymas’ daughter.

[3] This familiar and near wanton carriage of Nausicaa to her father, joined with that virgin modesty expressed in her after, is much praised by the gravest of Homer’s expositors; with her father’s loving allowance of it, knowing her shamefastness and judgment would not let her exceed at any part. Which note is here inserted, not as if this were more worthy the observation than other every-where strewed flowers of precept, but because this more generally pleasing subject may perhaps find more fitness for the stay of most readers.

[4] The piety and wisdom of the Poet was such, that (agreeing with the Sacred Letter) not the least of things he makes come to pass _sine Numinis providentiâ._ As Spondanus well notes of him.

[5] _Διερὸς βροτός. Cui vitalis vel sensualis humiditas inest. βροτὸς ὰ ῥέω, ut dicatur quasi ῥοτὸς,_ i.e. _ὁ ἐν ῥοᾓ ὢν, quod nihil sit magis fluxum quam homo._

[6] _Ανήρ virili animo præditus, fortis, magnanimus._ Nor are those affirmed to be men, _qui servile quidpiam et abjectum faciunt, vel, facere sustinent_: according to this of Herodotus in Polym. _πολλοὶ μὲν ἄνθρωποι ει͒εν, ὀλίγοι δὲ ἄνδρες._ Many men’s forms sustain, but few are men.

[7] According to another translator: _“Ab Jove nam supplex pauper procedit et hospes, Res brevis, at chara est, magni quoque munaris instar.”_ Which I cite to show his good when he keeps him to the original, and near in any degree expounds it.

[8] He taught their youths modesty by his aged judgment. As receiving the custom of maids then used to that entertainment of men, notwithstanding the modesty of that age, could not be corrupted inwardly for those outward kind observations of guests and strangers, and was therefore privileged. It is easy to avoid show; and those, that most curiously avoid the outward construction, are ever most tainted with the inward corruption.

[9] The city’s description so far forth as may in part induce her promised reason why she took not Ulysses to coach with her.

[10] Not without some little note of our omnisufficient Homer’s general touch of the least fitness lying in his way, may this courtly discretion he describes in Nausicaa be observed, if you please.

[11] More of our Poet’s curious and sweet piety.

THE SEVENTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

Nausicaa arrives at town; And then Ulysses. He makes known His suit to Arete: who view Takes of his vesture, which she knew, And asks him from whose hands it came. He tells, with all the hapless frame Of his affairs in all the while Since he forsook Calypso’s isle.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

_Ητα._ The honour’d minds, And welcome things, Ulysses finds In Scheria’s kings.

Thus pray’d the wise and God-observing man. The Maid, by free force of her palfreys, wan Access to town, and the renownéd court Reach’d of her father; where, within the port, She stay’d her coach, and round about her came Her brothers, made as of immortal frame, Who yet disdain’d not, for her love, mean deeds, But took from coach her mules, brought in her weeds.[1] And she ascends her chamber; where purvey’d A quick fire was by her old chamber-maid, Eurymedusa, th’ Aperæan born, And brought by sea from Apera t’ adorn The court of great Alcinous, because He gave to all the blest Phæacians laws, And, like a heav’n-born pow’r in speech, acquir’d The people’s ears. To one then so admir’d, Eurymedusa was esteem’d no worse Than worth the gift; yet now, grown old, was nurse To ivory-arm’d Nausicaa, gave heat To all her fires, and dress’d her privy meat. Then rose Ulysses, and made way to town; Which ere he reach’d, a mighty mist was thrown By Pallas round about him, in her care, Lest, in the sway of envies popular, Some proud Phæacian might foul language pass, Justle him up, and ask him what he was. Ent’ring the lovely town yet, through the cloud Pallas appear’d, and like a young wench show’d Bearing a pitcher, stood before him so As if objected purposely to know What there he needed; whom he question’d thus: “Know you not, daughter, where Alcinous, That rules this town, dwells? I, a poor distrest Mere stranger here, know none I may request To make this court known to me.” She replied: “Strange father, I will see you satisfied In that request. My father dwells just by The house you seek for; but go silently, Nor ask, nor speak to any other, I Shall be enough to show your way. The men That here inhabit do not entertain With ready kindness strangers, of what worth Or state soever, nor have taken forth Lessons of civil usage or respect To men beyond them. They, upon their pow’rs Of swift ships building, top the wat’ry tow’rs, And Jove hath giv’n them ships, for sail so wrought, They cut a feather, and command a thought.”[2] This said, she usher’d him, and after he Trod in the swift steps of the Deity. The free-sail’d seamen could not get a sight Of our Ulysses yet, though he forthright Both by their houses and their persons past, Pallas about him such a darkness cast By her divine pow’r, and her rev’rend care, She would not give the town-born cause to stare. He wonder’d, as he past, to see the ports; The shipping in them; and for all resorts The goodly market-steads; and aisles beside For the heroës; walls so large and wide; Rampires so high, and of such strength withall, It would with wonder any eye appall. At last they reach’d the court, and Pallas said: “Now, honour’d stranger, I will see obey’d Your will, to show our ruler’s house; ’tis here; Where you shall find kings celebrating cheer. Enter amongst them, nor admit a fear. _More bold a man is, he prevails the more, Though man nor place lie ever saw before._ You first shall find the queen in court, whose name Is Arete, of parents born the same That was the king her spouse; their pedigree[3] I can report. The great Earth-shaker, he Of Peribœa (that her sex out-shone, And youngest daughter was t’ Eurymedon, Who of th’ unmeasur’d-minded giants sway’d Th’ imperial sceptre, and the pride allay’d Of men so impious with cold death, and died Himself soon after) got the magnified In mind, Nausithous; whom the kingdom’s state First held in supreme rule. Nausithous gat Rhexenor, and Alcinous, now king. Rhexenor (whose seed did no male fruit spring, And whom the silver-bow-grac’d Phœbus slew Young in the court) his shed blood did renew In only Arete, who now is spouse To him that rules the kingdom in this house, And is her uncle king Alcinous, Who honours her past equal. She may boast More honour of him than the honour’d most[4] Of any wife in earth can of her lord, How many more soever realms afford, That keep house under husbands. Yet no more Her husband honours her, than her blest store Of gracious children. All the city cast Eyes on her as a Goddess, and give taste Of their affections to her in their pray’rs, Still as she decks the street; for, all affairs Wrapt in contention, she dissolves to men. Whom she affects, she wants no mind to deign Goodness enough. If her heart stand inclin’d To your dispatch, hope all you wish to find, Your friends, your longing family, and all That can within your most affections fall.” This said, away the grey-eyed Goddess flew Along th’ untam’d sea, left the lovely hue Scheria presented, out-flew Marathon, And ample-streeted Athens lighted on; Where to the house, that casts so thick a shade,[5] Of Erechtheüs she ingression made. Ulysses to the lofty-builded court Of king Alcinous made bold resort; Yet in his heart cast many a thought, before The brazen pavement of the rich court bore His enter’d person. Like heav’n’s two main lights The rooms illustrated both days and nights. On ev’ry side stood firm a wall of brass, Ev’n from the threshold to the inmost pass, Which bore a roof up that all-sapphire was. The brazen thresholds both sides did enfold Silver pilasters, hung with gates of gold; Whose portal was of silver; over which A golden cornice did the front enrich. On each side, dogs, of gold and silver fram’d, The house’s guard stood: which the Deity lam’d With knowing inwards had inspir’d, and made That death nor age should their estates invade. Along the wall stood ev’ry way a throne, From th’ entry to the lobby, ev’ry one Cast over with a rich-wrought cloth of state. Beneath which the Phæacian princes sate At wine and food, and feasted all the year. Youths forg’d of gold, at ev’ry table there, Stood holding flaming torches, that, in night, Gave through the house each honour’d guest his light And, to encounter feast with housewif’ry, In one room fifty women did apply Their sev’ral tasks. Some apple-colour’d corn Ground in fair querns, and some did spindles turn, Some work in looms; no hand least rest receives, But all had motion apt as aspen leaves. And from the weeds they wove, so fast they laid, And so thick thrust together thread by thread, That th’ oil, of which the wool had drunk his fill, Did with his moisture in light dews distill. As much as the Phæacian men excell’d All other countrymen in art to build A swift-sail’d ship; so much the women there For work of webs, past other women were. Past mean, by Pallas’ means, they understood The grace of good works; and had wits as good. Without the hall, and close upon the gate, A goodly orchard-ground was situate, Of near ten acres; about which was led A lofty quickset. In it flourished High and broad fruit trees, that pomegranates bore, Sweet figs, pears, olives; and a number more Most useful plants did there produce their store, Whose fruits the hardest winter could not kill, Nor hottest summer wither. There was still Fruit in his proper season all the year. Sweet Zephyr breath’d upon them blasts that were Of varied tempers. These he made to bear Ripe fruits, these blossoms. Pear grew after pear, Apple succeeded apple, grape the grape, Fig after fig came; time made never rape Of any dainty there. A spritely vine Spread here his root, whose fruit a hot sunshine Made ripe betimes; here grew another green. Here some were gath’ring, here some pressing, seen. A large-allotted sev’ral each fruit had; And all th’ adorn’d grounds their appearance made In flow’r and fruit, at which the king did aim To the precisest order he could claim. Two fountains grac’d the garden; of which, one Pour’d out a winding stream that over-run The grounds for their use chiefly, th’ other went Close by the lofty palace gate, and lent The city his sweet benefit. And thus The Gods the court deck’d of Alcinous. Patient Ulysses stood a while at gaze, But, having all observ’d, made instant pace Into the court; where all the peers he found, And captains of Phæacia, with cups-crown’d Off’ring to sharp-eyed Hermes, to whom last They us’d to sacrifice, when sleep had cast His inclination through their thoughts. But these Ulysses pass’d, and forth went; nor their eyes Took note of him, for Pallas stopp’d the light With mists about him, that, unstay’d, he might First to Alcinous, and Arete, Present his person; and, of both them, she, By Pallas’ counsel, was to have the grace Of foremost greeting. Therefore his embrace He cast about her knee. And then off flew The heav’nly air that hid him. When his view With silence and with admiration strook The court quite through; but thus he silence broke: “Divine Rhexenor’s offspring, Arete, To thy most honour’d husband, and to thee, A man whom many labours have distrest Is come for comfort, and to ev’ry guest. To all whom heav’n vouchsafe delightsome lives, And after to your issue that survives A good resignment of the goods ye leave, With all the honour that yourselves receive Amongst your people. Only this of me Is the ambition; that I may but see (By your vouchsaf’d means, and betimes vouchsaf’d) My country-earth; since I have long been left To labours, and to errors, barr’d from end, And far from benefit of any friend,” He said no more, but left them dumb with that, Went to the hearth, and in the ashes sat, Aside the fire. At last their silence brake, And Echinëus, th’ old heroë, spake; A man that all Phæacians pass’d in years, And in persuasive eloquence all the peers, Knew much, and us’d it well; and thus spake he: “Alcinous! It shews not decently, Nor doth your honour what you see admit, That this your guest should thus abjectly sit, His chair the earth, the hearth his cushion, Ashes as if appos’d for food. A throne, Adorn’d with due rites, stands you more in hand To see his person plac’d in, and command That instantly your heralds fill-in wine, That to the God that doth in lightnings shine We may do sacrifice; for he is there, Where these his rev’rend suppliants appear. Let what you have within be brought abroad, To sup the stranger. All these would have show’d This fit respect to him, but that they stay For your precedence, that should grace the way.” When this had added to the well-inclin’d And sacred order of Alcinous’ mind, Then of the great-in-wit the hand he seis’d, And from the ashes his fair person rais’d, Advanc’d him to a well-adornéd throne, And from his seat rais’d his most lovéd son, Laodamas, that next himself was set, To give him place. The handmaid then did get An ewer of gold, with water fill’d, which plac’d Upon a caldron, all with silver grac’d, She pour’d out on their hands. And then was spread A table, which the butler set with bread, As others serv’d with other food the board, In all the choice the present could afford. Ulysses meat and wine took; and then thus The king the herald call’d: “Pontonous! Serve wine through all the house, that all may pay Rites to the Lightner, who is still in way With humble suppliants, and them pursues With all benign and hospitable dues.” Pontonous gave act to all he will’d, And honey-sweetness-giving-minds wine fill’d,[6] Disposing it in cups for all to drink. All having drunk what either’s heart could think Fit for due sacrifice, Alcinous said: “Hear me, ye dukes that the Phæacians lead, And you our counsellors, that I may now Discharge the charge my mind suggests to you, For this our guest: Feast past, and this night’s sleep, Next morn, our senate summon’d, we will keep Justs, sacred to the Gods, and this our guest Receive in solemn court with fitting feast; Then think of his return, that, under hand Of our deduction, his natural land (Without more toil or care, and with delight, And that soon giv’n him, how far-hence dissite Soever it can be) he may ascend; And in the mean time without wrong attend, Or other want, fit means to that ascent.[7] What, after, austere Fates shall make th’ event Of his life’s thread, now spinning, and began When his pain’d mother freed his root of man, He must endure in all kinds. If some God Perhaps abides with us in his abode, And other things will think upon than we, The Gods’ wills stand, who ever yet were free Of their appearance to us, when to them We offer’d hecatombs of fit esteem, And would at feast sit with us, ev’n where we Order’d our session. They would likewise be Encount’rers of us, when in way alone About his fit affairs went any one. Nor let them cloak themselves in any care To do us comfort, we as near them are, As are the Cyclops, or the impious race[8] Of earthy giants, that would heav’n outface.” Ulysses answer’d: “Let some other doubt Employ your thoughts than what your words give out, Which intimate a kind of doubt that I Should shadow in this shape a Deity. I bear no such least semblance, or in wit, Virtue, or person. What may well befit One of those mortals, whom you chiefly know Bears up and down the burthen of the woe Appropriate to poor man, give that to me; Of whose moans I sit in the most degree, And might say more, sustaining griefs that all The Gods consent to; no one ’twixt their fall And my unpitied shoulders letting down The least diversion. Be the grace then shown, To let me taste your free-giv’n food in peace. _Through greatest grief the belly must have ease; Worse than an envious belly nothing is._ It will command his strict necessities, Of men most griev’d in body or in mind, That are in health, and will not give their kind A desp’rate wound. When most with cause I grieve, It bids me still, Eat, man, and drink, and live; And this makes all forgot. Whatever ill I ever bear, it ever bids me fill. But this ease is but forc’d, and will not last, Till what the mind likes be as well embrac’d; And therefore let me wish you would partake In your late purpose; when the morn shall make Her next appearance, deign me but the grace, Unhappy man, that I may once embrace My country-earth. Though I be still thrust at By ancient ills, yet make me but see that. And then let life go, when withal I see My high-roof’d large house, lands, and family.” This all approv’d; and each will’d ev’ry one, Since he hath said so fairly, set him gone. Feast past and sacrifice, to sleep all vow Their eyes at either’s house. Ulysses now Was left here with Alcinous, and his Queen, The all-lov’d Arete. The handmaids then The vessel of the banquet took away. When Arete set eye on his array; Knew both his out and under weed, which she Made with her maids; and mus’d by what means he Obtain’d their wearing; which she made request To know, and wings gave to these speeches: “Guest! First let me ask, what, and from whence you are? And then, who grac’d you with the weeds you wear? Said you not lately, you had err’d at seas, And thence arriv’d here?” Laertiades To this thus answer’d: “’Tis a pain, O Queen, Still to be op’ning wounds wrought deep, and green, Of which the Gods have open’d store in me; Yet your will must be serv’d. Far hence, at sea, There lies an isle, that bears Ogygia’s name, Where Atlas’ daughter, the ingenious dame, Fair-hair’d Calypso lives; a Goddess grave, And with whom men nor Gods society have; Yet I, past man unhappy, liv’d alone, By Heav’n’s wrath forc’d, her house-companion. For Jove had with a fervent lightning cleft My ship in twain, and far at black sea left Me and my soldiers; all whose lives I lost. I in mine arms the keel took, and was tost Nine days together up from wave to wave. The tenth grim night, the angry Deities drave Me and my wrack on th’ isle, in which doth dwell Dreadful Calypso; who exactly well Receiv’d and nourish’d me, and promise made To make me deathless, nor should age invade My pow’rs with his deserts through all my days. All mov’d not me, and therefore, on her stays, Sev’n years she made me lie; and there spent I The long time, steeping in the misery Of ceaseless tears the garments I did wear, From her fair hand. The eighth revolvéd year (Or by her chang’d mind, or by charge of Jove) She gave provok’d way to my wish’d remove, And in a many-jointed ship, with wine Dainty in savour, bread, and weeds divine, Sign’d, with a harmless and sweet wind, my pass. Then sev’nteen days at sea I homeward was, And by the eighteenth the dark hills appear’d That your earth thrusts up. Much my heart was cheer’d, Unhappy man, for that was but a beam, To show I yet had agonies extreme To put in suff’rance, which th’ Earth-shaker sent, Crossing my way with tempests violent, Unmeasur’d seas up-lifting, nor would give The billows leave to let my vessel live The least time quiet, that ev’n sigh’d to bear Their bitter outrage, which, at last, did tear Her sides in pieces, set on by the winds. I yet through-swum the waves that your shore binds, Till wind and water threw me up to it; When, coming forth, a ruthless billow smit Against huge rocks, and an accessless shore, My mangl’d body. Back again I bore, And swum till I was fall’n upon a flood, Whose shores, methought, on good advantage stood For my receipt, rock-free, and fenc’d from wind; And this I put for, gath’ring up my mind. Then the divine night came, and treading earth, Close by the flood that had from Jove her birth, Within a thicket I repos’d; when round I ruffled up fall’n leaves in heap; and found, Let fall from heav’n, a sleep interminate. And here my heart, long time excruciate, Amongst the leaves I rested all that night, Ev’n till the morning and meridian light. The sun declining then, delightsome sleep No longer laid my temples in his steep, But forth I went, and on the shore might see Your daughter’s maids play. Like a Deity She shin’d above them; and I pray’d to her, And she in disposition did prefer Noblesse, and wisdom, no more low than might Become the goodness of a Goddess’ height. Nor would you therefore hope, suppos’d distrest As I was then, and old, to find the least Of any grace from her, being younger far. _With young folks Wisdom makes her commerce rare._ Yet she in all abundance did bestow Both wine, that makes the blood in humans grow,[9] And food, and bath’d me in the flood, and gave The weeds to me which now ye see me have. This through my griefs I tell you, and ’tis true.” Alcinous answer’d: “Guest! my daughter knew Least of what most you give her; nor became The course she took, to let with ev’ry dame Your person lackey; nor hath with them brought Yourself home too; which first you had besought.” “O blame her not,” said he, “heroical lord, Nor let me hear against her worth a word. She faultless is, and wish’d I would have gone With all her women home, but I alone Would venture my receipt here, having fear And rev’rend awe of accidents that were Of likely issue; both your wrath to move, And to inflame the common people’s love Of speaking ill, to which they soon give place. _We men are all a most suspicious race.”_ “My guest,” said he, “I use not to be stirr’d To wrath too rashly; and where are preferr’d To men’s conceits things that may both ways fail, The noblest ever should the most prevail. Would Jove our Father, Pallas, and the Sun, That, were you still as now, and could but run One fate with me, you would my daughter wed, And be my son-in-law, still vow’d to lead Your rest of life here! I a house would give, And household goods, so freely you would live, Confin’d with us. But ’gainst your will shall none Contain you here, since that were violence done To Jove our Father. For your passage home, That you may well know we can overcome So great a voyage, thus it shall succeed: To-morrow shall our men take all their heed, While you securely sleep, to see the seas In calmest temper, and, if that will please, Show you your country and your house ere night, Though far beyond Eubœa be that sight. And this Eubœa, as our subjects say That have been there and seen, is far away, Farthest from us of all the parts they know; And made the trial when they help’d to row The gold-lock’d Rhadamanth, to give him view Of earth-born Tityus; whom their speeds did show In that far-off Eubœa, the same day They set from hence; and home made good their way With ease again, and him they did convey. Which I report to you, to let you see How swift my ships are, and how matchlessly My young Phæacians with their oars prevail, To beat the sea through, and assist a sail.” This cheer’d Ulysses, who in private pray’d: “I would to Jove our Father, what he said, He could perform at all parts; he should then Be glorified for ever, and I gain My natural country.” This discourse they had; When fair-arm’d Arete her handmaids bad A bed make in the portico, and ply With clothes, the cov’ring tapestry, The blankets purple; well-napp’d waistcoats too, To wear for more warmth. What these had to do, They torches took and did. The bed purvey’d, They mov’d Ulysses for his rest, and said: “Come guest, your bed is fit, now frame to rest.” Motion of sleep was gracious to their guest; Which now he took profoundly, being laid Within a loop-hole tow’r, where was convey’d The sounding portico. The King took rest In a retir’d part of the house; where drest The Queen her self a bed, and trundlebed, And by her lord repos’d her rev’rend head.

FINIS LIBRI SEPTIMI HOM. ODYSS.

[1] _Hac fuit illius sæculi simplicitas: nam vel fraternus quoque amor tantus fuit, ut libenter hanc redeunti charissimæ sorori operam præstiterint. Spond._

[2] _Νέες ώκει̑αι ὡσεὶ πτερὸν ἠὲ νόημα, naves veloces veluti penna, atque cogitatio._

[3] For the more perspicuity of this pedigree, I have here set down the diagram, as Spondanus hath it. Neptune begat Nausithous of Peribœa. By Nausithous, Rhexenor, Alcinous, were begot. By Rhexenor, Arete, the wife of her uncle Alcinous.

[4] The honour of Arete (or virtue) alleg.

[5] Casts so thick a shade—_πυκινός spissus._

[6] The word that bears this long epithet is translated only _dulce:_ which signifies more, _Μελίϕρονα οι͒νον ἐκίρνα Vinum quod melleâ dulcedine animum perfundit, et oblectat._

[7] Ascent to his country’s shore.

[8] Eustathius will have this comparison of the Phæacians with the Giants and Cyclops to proceed out of the inveterate virulency of Antinous to the Cyclops; who were cause (as is before said) of their remove from their country; and with great endeavour labours the approbation of it; but (under his peace) from the purpose: for the sense of the Poet is clear, that the Cyclops and Giants being in part the issue of the Gods, and yet afterward their defiers, (as Polyp. hereafter dares profess) Antinous (out of bold and manly reason, even to the face of one that might have been a God, for the past manly appearance he made there) would tell him, and the rest in him, that if they graced those Cyclops with their open appearance, that, though descended from them, durst yet deny them, they might much more do them the honour of their open presence that adored them.

[9] _Αἴθοψ οι͒νος, Vinum calefaciendi vim habens._

THE EIGHTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

The Peers of the Phæacian State A Council call, to consolate Ulysses with all means for home. The Council to a banquet come, Invited by the King. Which done, Assays for hurling of the stone The youths make with the stranger-king. Demodocus, at feast, doth sing Th’ adult’ry of the God of Arms With Her that rules in amorous charms; And after sings the entercourse Of acts about th’ Epæan horse.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

_Θη̑τα._ The council’s frame At fleet applied. In strifes of game Ulysses tried.