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HOMER’S ODYSSEY
“‘O degli altri Poeti onore e lume

Vaglia mi il lungo studio e il grande amore

Che m’ha fatto cercar il tuo volume.”
DANTE
CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

   

ODYSSEY OF HOMER

TRANSLATED BY

&
"eco RDERY, C.S.1,

AUTHOR OF A TRANSLATION OF THE ILIAD

METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET, STRAND
LONDON

1897
R
AN29784S

ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS

a
TO
Str HENRY S. CUNNINGHAM, K.C.LE.
NOT LESS THE SINCEREST OF FRIENDS
FOR BEING THE BRIGHTEST OF COMPANIONS
I INSCRIBE
THIS ATTEMPT AT TRANSLATING A POEM
FIRST READ IN HIS SOCIETY

FORTY-TWO YEARS AGO
PREFACE

Tue action of the Odyssey embraces a period of
forty-two days. It opens with a debate of the Gods
in which the return of Odysseus * (then in the isle of
Calypso) is resolved upon. Athene, descending in
disguise to Ithaca, finds the Suitors of Penelope (the
wife, and supposed to be the widow, of Odysseus) at a
revel, and, when Telemachus (Odysseus’ son) has ex-
plained his position, she advises him first to make a
public renunciation of all responsibility for whatever
may happen if they persist in their evil courses, and,
secondly, to proceed on a voyage in search of news
of his absent father. On her departure, Telemachus
warns the Suitors of his purpose, and on the following
morning he summons a public meeting. In the
debate that follows the Suitors show no sign of
concession, and refuse even to furnish the prince
with a ship. Athene, however, reappearing as
Mentor, borrows a vessel from Noemon, which is

* For metrical reasons this name is spelt by Homer indifferently
throughout the poem as Odysseus, and as Odyseus, the second syllable
being in the latter case shortened, and the accent in English thrown
back to the first syllable. I have allowed myself the same liberty in
my translation. The marginal figures on each page also denote the
numbering of the lines according to the Greek original.
viii PREFACE

forthwith provisioned by Telemachus, with the help
of a female slave, Euryclea, and of a volunteer crew, so
that he starts at nightfall with the Goddess. Arriving
at Pylos by dawn, they find the whole town, with
Nestor and his family, at a festival on the sea-shore.
Nestor narrates the adventures attending his own
return, and the fate of Agamemnon; but as he
knows nothing of Odysseus, he advises the son to
proceed to Sparta, where Menelaus, who has returned
ata later date, will be found. And the next morn-
ing, after an elaborate sacrifice to Athene, he sends
him thither on a chariot with his youngest son,
Pisistratus.

They reach Menelaus on the evening of the second
day (the fifth day of the whole poem). He, too, is
presiding at a marriage-feast, and gives them a stately
welcome. Helen joins him in his hospitalities, and,
discovering Telemachus, they both tell stories of
Odysseus’ prowess in Troy. On the next morning,
Menelaus adds the narrative of his own return, in
which is included the celebrated story of Proteus and
his account of the detention of Odysseus by Calypso.
Meanwhile an inquiry from Noemon about his
vessel leads to the discovery in Ithaca of Telemachus’
absence by both the Suitors and his mother. The
former lay out a vessel to intercept and kill him as
he returns, while Athene comforts Penelope with a
dream.

On the seventh morning Hermes is despatched
PREFACE ix

by Zeus to Calypso, to whose island the scene is
shifted. She reluctantly assists Odysseus with tools
for the construction of a raft, which he builds in four
days, and on which she sends him away. After a sail
of seventeen days he is descried by Poseidon, who
wrecks and destroys the raft. The hero, supported
by the veil of a sea-nymph, is tossed on the water for
two days more, till (on the thirty-second day of the
plot) he’ is thrown up on the coast. of Phzacia, and
sinks exhausted into a deep sleep. On the thirty-third
day occurs the well-known and beautiful episode of
his discovery by the Princess Nausicaa and her
maidens. He is then conducted to the palace of
Alcinous, of which a magnificent description is
given. Made welcome there by both King and
Queen, he is feasted during the following day.
Games, at which, under strong provocation, he
exhibits his own prowess, are held in his honour,
.and Demodocus, a blind bard, sings his lays. At
last, on that evening, the hero declares himself to be
Odysseus, and the remainder of the night is passed
in his narration of the adventures that have filled his
return from Troy.

This narrative occupies four books, and (besides
minor episodes) includes the fairy tales of the one-
eyed cannibal Giant and the escape from his den ; of
fEolus and his bag of winds ; of the Lestrygons and
the midnight sun ; of Circe and her enchantments ;
of the descent into Hades; of the Sirens; of the
x PREFACE

monsters Scylla and Charybdis ; of the cattle of
the Sun and their fatal slaughter ; of the consequent
destruction of the crew, and of the hero’s preservation
by Calypso.

The wide dispersion of many of these tales in all
quarters of the globe must be held to prove that they
belong to a very early stratum of folk-lore, and are,
in their origin, of a date far anterior to that of the
Odyssey. Of the consummate art with which they
have not only been re-told by Homer, but have also
been woven on the main thread of his romance, it is
impossible to write too highly. The curse uttered by
the Cyclops, after he has been blinded by Odysseus,
gives rise to the enmity of the God Poseidon, who is
the father of that giant. The mad act of the crew
in opening the bag of /Zolus carries the hero’s ship
into fairy-land and prevents his immediate return to
Ithaca. The descent into Hades, besides affording
opportunity for the most splendid poetry, is strictly
in harmony with the supernatural character of the
portents by which, till the close of the poem is
reached, the destruction of the Suitors is heralded.
The delays with Circe and Calypso are necessary in
order to allow time for the growth of Telemachus
into manhood. The ruin caused by the Lestrygons
and by the slaughter of the Sun’s cattle, contains the
key of the entire plot in leading to the arrival of
Odysseus in Ithaca alone and unrecognised. Whether
the principal ré/e in these fables had been attributed
PREFACE xi

to Odysseus by early tribal tradition before Homer,
or not, is a point which, in the absence of any evidence
except that supplied by the Odyssey, is not susceptible
of either proof or disproof. But, in so far as the
whole Odyssey is itself regarded as an adaptation or
development of the similarly diffused tale of The
Returned Husband, it seems unlikely that the
character of protagonist could have been ascribed
to Odysseus before the comparatively recent growth
of the Trojan legend.

Resuming the argument of the poem, we find the
Phezacians, after another day’s delay, loading Odysseus
with gifts and conveying him on a miraculous ship to
Ithaca. For this offence Poseidon converts the ship
on its return into a rock at the entrance of their
harbour. Athene prevents the hero from recog-
nising his country, till, after a curiously characteristic
colloquy, she reveals it to him herself, and explains
the necessity of his remaining unknown and unrecog-
nisable. Accordingly she transforms him into an old
man, under which disguise he makes his way to the
farmyard of his swineherd, Eumzus. He is made
welcome, and gives a fictitious account of himself as
a Cretan, who, after many reverses of fortune, has
escaped from slavery. He also represents himself as
having come across Odysseus, but this Eumzus
refuses to believe. Other herdsmen enter, and the
scene ends with a supper and more conversation in
the hut. Both the character of Eumzus and the
xii PREFACE

picture of his life display an appreciation of the
dignity attending on honest labour, which has not
been surpassed even by Burns or Wordsworth.*

The scene again shifts to Menelaus’ house, where
we left Telemachus asleep. On the next morning, as
inspired by Athene, he insists on an immediate de-
parture homeward. The journey back to Pylos
occupies two days, and he is taken by Pisistratus
straight to his ship, where he is joined by Theo-
clymenus, one of a family of prophets, but now a
fugitive. He then sails by another route for Ithaca,
thus eluding the Suitors’ ambush. Eumzus, mean-
while, is giving to Odysseus an account of Laertes
and his mother’s death, and relates in an exquisite
story how he himself had been kidnapped in his
childhood. Telemachus lands alone and finds them
in the hut on the morning of the thirty-ninth day of
the poem’s action.

We must pause at this point to consider the
solitary flaw in the construction of the plot. The
operations of Odysseus have occupied thirty-two days
from the date on which Hermes visits Calypso. Those
of Telemachus from the same date, have at the most
only occupied five. Yet they are now brought to-
gether in Eumeus’ hut. It is true that, whereas five
books are allotted to the son’s first adventures, twenty-
three of the days passed by Odysseus are disposed of
in the space of one hundred and fifty lines of Book

* Wordsworth’s “‘ Michael”’ appears to me to approach nearest to it.
PREFACE xiii

V.; so that this inconsistency is hardly perceptible
in a recitation or rapid perusal of the work. But in
a mere analysis it assumes a greater prominence. It
appears in my judgment impossible that a compiler,
with plenary power over his materials, with sufficient
ability to put an epic together, or composing at a later
period when writing was in vogue, should have either
introduced or permitted the retention of such a dis-
crepancy. It can therefore only be explained as a slip
on the part of the ancient poet, when he made
Telemachus insist on declining, instead of accepting,
the pressing invitation of Menelaus to prolong his
stay at Lacedemon. Sir W. Geddes, Mr. Grote,
Mr. Lang, Mr. Leaf, and the majority of English
critics concur in this view. Those who oppose it
hold that the blemish is the sign of clumsy workman-
ship at the point where a separate epic relating to
Telemachus has been blended with another concerning
his father. The existence of such a ‘“ Telemachy”
is supported by no other consideration that deserves
the name of evidence. Sir W. Geddes does not over-
state the case when he writes: “The marvellous
marshalling of gathered circumstance to bring round
the great result at which the poet aims—the hero’s
restoration to home and kingdom ; the skilful
arrangement by which the double stream of action,
carried on by father and by son, converges at the point
of junction when the heroes meet at the hut; the
absurdity of supposing that any large section of it
xiv PREFACE

(such as the books where Telemachus is the main
actor) had any independent existence, except as a part,
it might even be an after-part, of a great whole—
all unite to render the Odyssey impregnable against
disruptive assaults, as they conspire to render it the
most perfect and finished story ever told in verse
through all the ages of the world”. To this we may
be permitted to append the dictum of the historian
Grote, that the work is not only the work of one
author, but ‘‘came from his mind, moulded at one
projection ”’.

Returning to our analysis—Eumeus being sent to
the city, Athene retransforms the hero to his proper
shape and he reveals himself to his son, with whom he
concocts a plan against the Suitors. He is then again
disguised as a beggar, under which appearance he
remains till his vengeance has been completed. At
dawn on the fortieth day he moves into the city, and,
after being insulted on the road by Melanthius, is
recognised by his dog Argus as he enters his house.
Acting the part of beggar in his hall, he is grievously
outraged by Antinous, but establishes his position by
vanquishing in fair fight the native beggar named
Irus. Penelope, beautified by Athene, descends and
entices the Suitors to fetch her rich presents with
which she again retires. Odysseus, after an alter-
cation with one of the maids, Melantho, acts as torch-
bearer, and submits to further insult till the Suitors
leave the house. He then, with Telemachus, removes
PREFACE xV

all weapons out of the hall by a miraculous light
kindled by Athene. He next obeys the summons of
Penelope, to whom, in the course of a most pathetic
interview, he gives a fictitious story of his having
entertained her husband in Crete, and of having lately
heard of him in the ‘neighbouring Thesprotia,
Euryclea, the nurse, whilst washing his feet, identifies
him by a scar which he had received from a boar
during a hunt on Parnassus with his mother’s father,
Autolycus. He frightens her into silence, and, re-
turning to Penelope, encourages her to offer her
hand to the Suitors as the prize of an archery feat
with his own bow.

The following day, the forty-first, includes omens
of success vouchsafed by Zeus ; the enlistment on the
hero’s cause of Philetius and Eumzus, to whom he
reveals himself ; the foreboding vision of the Suitors’
doom as seen and declared by Theoclymenus ; the
ordeal of the bow and the Suitors’ failure to fulfil it ;
their slaughter by Odysseus, his son, and the two
herdsmen ; the cleansing of the hall, and the execution
of Melanthius, Melantho and her guilty companions.

These seven books (XVI.-XXII.) are crowded
with dramatic effects—humorous, pathetic, vigorous
or warlike, as each occasion requires. It is worthy of
note that the recognition of the hero is an incident
that recurs seven times. He is acknowledged (1) by
Telemachus, (2) by Euryclea, (3) by Eumzus and
Philetius, (4) by the Suitors, (5) by Penelope, (6)
xvi PREFACE

by Laertes, (7) by Dolius and his sons. Yet the
variations in each case are so diverse, and in such
accordance with the circumstances and characters of
the several personages concerned, that what might
easily have degenerated into monotony becomes a
triumph of creative skill. And it is manifestly
impossible to regard Homer as a writer or mani-
pulator of popular ballads, unless under that term
we are prepared to include as remarkable an example
of dramatic power as exists in the range of all litera-
ture.

The same night is occupied by the recognition of
her husband on the part of Penelope, who slowly and
gradually yields herself to the conviction that the man
before her is not some supernatural being bent on her
deception. It is thus that she herself, when the
details given by Odysseus have won her assent, ex-
plains her reluctance and her doubts. And, if this
be understood, there are few scenes in either ancient
or modern poetry that surpass Book XXIII.

Book XXIV., and the forty-second day, are taken
up with (1) the arrival of the Suitors’ Ghosts in Hades
and their conversations there (this includes a fine
description of the funeral of Achilles) ; and with (2)
the blood-feud caused by the Suitors’ slaughter.
Odysseus, in a highly-finished passage, makes him-
self known to his father Laertes, and is acknowledged
also by others on the farm. He is pursued by the
Suitors’ kindred ; the father of Antinous is slain by
PREFACE Xvii

Laertes, whose weapon is guided by Athene; and
the two factions are on the point of a serious
engagement when the Goddess interposes and es-
tablishes a peace throughout the island. This
sudden use of a Deus ex machind has been severely
criticised, but does not appear to have been any
offence to the religious feeling or taste of an early
Greek.

Such is the poem of which I venture to lay before
the public a new translation. I have attempted to be
as literal and as close to the original as a thorough sub-
stitution of English for Greek grammar and idiom will
allow. I may fairly claim never to have degenerated
into paraphrase and not to have shirked any difficulty.
With this fidelity I have sought to combine a spon-
taneous rhythm with sufficient rise and fall in it to
indicate to the English reader the existence of those
passages in which Homer rises to heights far beyond
the tether of any translator. I have eschewed the
use of all mock-archaic diction in which so many
translators indulge, because I believe that Homer’s
language was to his original audiences not a whit
more antiquated than that of Shakspeare or Milton,
or of any poetry as now contrasted with prose, sounds
to our own ears. I labour under no self-deluding idea
of my. own power to reproduce the depth, the majesty,
or the fulness of the Homeric note. It is only on
this combination of strict adherence to the text with
a yaried and unaffected versification that I base my

b
xviii PREFACE

hope of extending, to some degree, the knowledge
of a noble poet amongst the ever-widening circle of
English readers who have never acquired the Greek
tongue.

I am deeply indebted to the commentaries of Dr.
Merry and Dr. Hayman, and, as regards this preface,
to the essays of Sir William Geddes and Mr. Lang.
CONTENTS

BOOK

I. Athene—and the Suitors with Telemachus . -
II. The Ithacan assembly and departure of Telemachus
III. Nestor at Pylos . : 7

IV. Menelaus at Sparta . : . 7 ‘i 3

PAGE

16

V. Calypso and the wreck of Odysseus. : . gee
VI 89

. Nausicaa . : : é : °
VII. The reception of the neaoe in Phuc
VIII. The recreations of Pheacia_ . . A . .
IX. The Cicons and the Cyclops
X. A£olus, the Lestrygons, and Circe
XI. The descent into Hades 3
XII. The Sirens, Scylla and Charybdis, the cattle of tie Sun,
and destruction of the crew. 3 % :
XIII. Athene and Odysseus in Ithaca. : -
XIV. Odysseus with Eumzus . . : : ‘
XV. The return of Telemachus. “ : F :
XVI. Odysseus with his son
XVII. Telemachus with Penelope ; ite. dog Aras fie patrages
suffered by Odysseus in his hall “
XVIII. Irus the beggar; Penelope attracting presents ; Bury
machus challenged by Odysseus
XIX. Odysseus with Penelope ; recognition by Bieyetes,.
XX. Odysseus again insulted ; recognition by Philztius and

Eumzus . A é <
XXI. The ordeal of the bias ‘ ‘ é
XXII. The slaughter of the Suitors. :

XXIII, The recognition by Penelope . .
XXIV. The Shades of Agamemnon and the Suitars : cresopattion
by Laertes ; establishment of peace.

111
130
147
164

185
199
213
230
248

263

282
296

315
328
343
359

371
ERRATA.

Page 190, line 37, for love read lore.
», 307, ,, 6, for of all the vead of all.
» 809, ,, 18,) for Autolycus’ sons read Autolycus’ brave
y: 309% 4, 25, | sons.
ODYSSEY I.

Sing through my lips,* O Goddess, sing the man BOOK I.
Resourceful, who, storm-buffeted far and wide, 1—20.
After despoiling of Troy’s sacred tower,

Beheld the cities of mankind, and knew

Their various temper! Many on the sea

The sorrows in his inmost heart he bore

For rescue of his comrades and his life ;

Those not for all his effort might he save ;

Fools, of their own perversities they fell,

Daring consume the cattle of the Sun

Hyperion, who bereft them of return!

That we too may have knowledge, sing these things,
Daughter of Zeus, beginning whence thou wilt!

Now of the others, spared from violent death,
All had gained home and rest from war and wave ;
Him only, though still yearning for his wife
And his dear home, Calypso, Nymph divine,

Held in her grottoes and implored to rest

Her wedded spouse. Ev’n when with rolling time
The year came round, wherein was preordained
His safe returning unto Ithaca,

Not then of those his troubles was he clear

Or with his friends at peace: whom all the Gods
Now pitied, save Poseidon; He alone

*“Avdpa pot évvere. The exact force of uo: may be disputed, and
is of interest as one of the very few personal touches in Homer. The
simplest translation, ‘‘unto me,” is precluded as according neither
with the Homeric view of poetic inspiration, nor with what the poet
is now desiring. ‘To my prayer,”’ or “ Sing, Muse, to my entreaty,”
is an obvious rendering. But the equally common meaning of such
a dative, ‘‘ for my benefit or for my use,” will cover the interpretation
I have adopted in the text.

1
BOOK I.
21—50.

2 THE GODS DEBATE AND DECREE

Against divine Odysseus cherished wrath
Relentless, till he reached his native shore.

But great Poseidon now was far away
Amongst the Ethiops, furthermost of men,
Two tribes, divided ; one beholds the sun
Rising, the other looks upon his fall.
Thither in prospect of a hecatomb
Of lambs and bulls departing, He aloof
Was joying in that offering. But the rest
Were gathered in the Olympian hall of Zeus:
Amongst whom the great Father of the world
Began address, recalling to sad heart
Egisthus by renowned Orestes slain ;
With this remembrance thus he spake, and said:
‘Ah shame on mortals, who reproach the Gods
And say that evil is from us, but they
By their own sins bring sorrows on themselves,
Over and ‘above the measure of their Fates.
As once A2gisthus, quite transgressing fate,
Wedded Atrides’ wedded wife and slew
The Hero on return, albeit aware
Of the dread ruin hurrying thereupon,
Whereof we told him first, and sent a God
Hermeias Argeiphontes guide i in Heaven
To warn him that he should not kill the King
Nor woo the queen; since vengeance would be born
Of the brave youth Orestes, when he came
To manhood, and should ask his heritage.
So Hermes spake, yet turned not by his word,
For all its strong intent, 2gisthus’ heart:
And verily he hath paid—a thousand-fold.”
Whom fiery-eyed Athene answered thus:
“Our Pather, Kronos’ son, and lord of lords!
He lies in justest ruin overwhelmed ;
Yea, and let any who should do the like
So likewise perish. But my heart is sore
Within me for discreet Odysseus’ sake,
Ill-fated, since, removed from all he loves,
He suffers still, shut in a sea-girt isle,
Where is the navel of the deep broad sea,
THE RETURN OF ODYSSEUS 3

A forest-buried isle ; and in its haunts BOOK 1.
The child of Atlas, Queen Calypso, dwells 51—81.
(Atlas, malignest of the Giant-brood,
Who reads the secrets of the deep, and holds
In his sole hands the pillars whereupon
The Heavens are kept asunder from the earth) :
His child now holds Odysseus and would win
With soft and loving converse to forget
His Ithaca; but he, whose one desire
Is but to see the smoke going up again
From his own fields, would gladlier die forthwith.
Yet thou for all his troubles art not moved.
Did not Laértes’ Son on Troy’s broad shore
Amongst the galleys ever do thee grace
With sacrifices to thine altar due ?
Then wherefore lay, O Zeus, such hurt on him?”
And Zeus the Ruler of the clouds replied:
“ My child, what word hath slipp’d thy teeth’s white fence ?
How could I e’er of godlike Odyseus
Remain forgetful, who excels all men
For wisdom, and for rendering offerings due
To the immortal Inheritors of heaven ?
But He, who in the sea’s clasp holds the earth,
Poseidon, halts not in his ceaseless wrath
For the great Cyclops Polyphemus’ sake
Whose eye Odysseus blinded: his the strength
Greatest amongst the Cyclops, and his birth
Was of Poseidon, when in hollow cave
He with the Nymph Thoosa lay, the child
Of Phorcyn, the old ruler of the main.
Therefore, albeit he kills him not outright,
The God yet drives him from his native land.
Come therefore, let us all take counsel here
For his return, how he may reach his home;
And Poseidaion shall relax his wrath ;
Single against us all, and in despite
Of gods immortal, He would strive in vain.”
And fiery-eyed Athene made reply:
“Our Father, Kronos’ Son, and lord of lords!
If to the blissful Gods it now seems good
That warlike Odyseus return to home,
BOOK I.
82—115.

4 ATHENE DESCENDING TO ITHACA

Then to Ogygia let us speed straightway

Hermeias Argeiphontes guide in Heaven

To tell the fair-coif'd Nymph our fixed resolve ;

Whilst I will haste to Ithaca and there

Quicken his son and breathe a spirit in him

To calla council to the market-place,

To expel his mother’s wooers, who all day

Now batten on his flocks and slow-paced herds.

To Sparta then and Pylos’ sandy coasts

Forth I will send him, to inquire, if aught

Of his dear father’s coming he may hear,

And win himself a glorious name abroad.”
Speaking beneath her feet she bound the shoon

Beauteous, ambrosial, golden; oft their wont

Over the sea, over the limitless earth,

To bear her with the breathings of the wind:

And the strong sharp brass-pointed spear she took,

Massy and huge, wherewith she moweth down,

Clad in her father’s strength, the embattled ranks

Of Heroes, upon whom her wrath hath fallen.

So from the Olympian peaks she. sprang, and flew

Till in the midst of Ithaca she stood,

At the porch’d threshold of Odysseus’ court,

The brazen spear still in her hand, and seemed

Mentes, a guest, the Chief of Taphos’ isle.

The misproud Wooers at that moment there
She found; for in the play of draughts they took
Their pleasure right before the gates, reclined
On skins of oxen which themselves had slain;
Whilst heralds and quick followers of the house
Did service, mingling some with water wine
In cups, whilst others drench’d the tables, cleansed
With fine-pierced sponges, or set forth the boards
Before the chairs, or parted out the meats.

The godlike youth Telemachus was first
To see her coming; for with harassed heart
He sate distraught amongst the wooers’ crowd,
Figuring in his mind his father brave,
If he, from somewhere in the world, might make
IS WELCOMED BY TELEMACHUS 5

A scattering of those Suitors through the halls, BOOK I.
Have honour, and be lord in his own house. 116—147.
Hence in these thoughts he saw Athene first
From where he sate ; straight at the porch he went,
Thinking it shame to him a guest should stand
Long in his door-way, and approaching took
Her right hand, and received the brazen spear,
And spake her welcome with these wingéd words:

‘‘ Welcome, my guest ; be kindly entreated here,
And, when thou hast partaken of repast,
Then thou wilt tell us what thy need may be.”

He spoke, and led the way ; she followed him;
And when they were within the lofty hall
He bore and planted against a pillar high
The javelin in the polished rack, wherein
Stood many another of Odysseus’ spears ;
But led Athene to a dzedal throne
Fair-carven, spread a cushion of flax thereon,
And seated her, with footstool to her feet ;
But placed a fine-wrought settle by her side,
Aloof of all the wooers, for himself,
Lest, troubled by the uproar, and fresh-come
Amongst men overbrimm’d with all excess,
His guest conceive some loathing of repast ;
And that he too in quiet might inquire
News of his absent father. Water then
In a fair golden ewer a handmaid bare
And pour’d above a basin of silver wrought,
Sprinkling her hands ; then at her side set out
A burnished board. The matron of the house
Put bread thereon, and many cates beside,
Graciously bounteous of an ample store ;
Nor less the seneschal upraised and filled
Their trenchers with ali manner of meats, and put
Gold goblets by them, whilst a herald-youth
Came to them oft, and brought, and poured the wine.

Anon the insolent Wooers entered in,
And ranged them on the settles and the thrones;
Whilst water on their hands the heralds poured
And handmaids brought them bread in baskets heaped.
BOOK I.
148—181.

6 WHO EXPLAINS TO HER HIS OWN

They plied their fingers on the delicate fare
Before them, and boys crown’d their cups with wine.
When they had had their fill of drink and meat,
Other delights became their pleasant care,
Music and dance—the crowns of banqueting.

A herald put in Phemius’ hand a lyre

Of lovely workmanship ; he, loth, perforce,
Sang to the Suitors, and amongst the strings
Running his fingers lifted up his voice

Sweetly to sing; the while Telemachus,
Leaning his head towards her, lest perchance
Others should hear, addressed Athene thus;

“Let not my words offend thee, gentle guest!
These men delight in these things, song and dance,
Well at their ease, who in their riot eat
The substance of another, all unlet,
Unpunish’d—for his bones are bleaching white
Somewhere ashore and mouldering with the rains,
Or tossing in the deep with rolling waves.

Could they behold him back in Ithaca,

Their prayer were rather to be quick of foot,
Than show thus bright in gold and gay attire !
Nay, he hath perished by an evil fate ;

Nor have we any comfort, though perchance
Some wandering man may say he will return;
For the hour of his return hath long gone by.
But tell me, and speak freely without fear,

Who and whence art thou? Where thy country? Who
Thy parents? On what ship hast thou arrived ?
Who may thy sailors boast themselves to be ?
How fared they hither? For I trow right well,
Thou camest not into Ithaca on foot.

Answer me these things true, and likewise tell
Whether this visit hither be thy first,

Or whether thou hast been my father’s guest.
Many the men have visited our house,

For he was conversant with all the world.”’

The child of Zeus Athene made reply :
‘Therefore full freely I will tell you all.
Warlike Anchialus’ son I boast myself,

King of the Taphians, an oar-practised race,
AND THE SUITORS’ POSITION 7

Mentes by name, and now have hither come BOOK I.
With bark and comrades voyaging across 182—211.
The wine-hued ocean unto foreign shores
Toward Temesé in quest of brass, but bear

A freight of glowing iron. This my ship

Clear of the town on the country-side now lies
Moor’d in the bay of Rhethrum ’neath the mount
Of wooded Neius. We may boast ourselves
Friends to each other by our father’s tie

On either side, and from the earliest days.

Thy agéd grandsire seek and ask thereof,
Laértes, who, they say, now nevermore

‘Comes to the city, but eridures apart

Out in the country all his sorrows—alone,

Save one old dame attendant, who provides
What food and drink are needful when fatigue
Seizes upon him through his agéd limbs
Creeping along his upland plot of vines.

And I have come this while because report
Reached me, thy father now was in his realm ;
But him, it seems, the Immortals hinder still.
Por sage Odysseus is not dead to earth;

But, living yet, in some sea-girdled isle

By the broad ocean is perchance confined,

And violent men and savage hold him there,
Imprisoning who would fain escape and go.
And, though I be no soothsayer nor well-learned
In signs or wonders, I would prophesy

How the Gods cast this matter in their minds,
How I prefigure it will come to pass.

Ever resourceful, he will find some means

For a flight thence, consenting not to stay,

Not though strong fetters of iron hold him back,
Absent much longer from his native land.

But tell me, and speak truly without fear.

Being of this stature, art thou yet his son?

For by the head and by the beautiful eyes
Wondrously thou art like him; this I know,

For we had constant intercourse together,

Ere he and all the chieftains sailed for Troy
Aboard their hollow galleys; from that day
8 SHE ADVISES HIM TO APPEAL

212—244 To whom the sage young prince replied, and said:
“ Fully, my guest, and truly I reply,
My mother’s voice declares | am his son;
Myself I know not whom I never saw.
Who knows the father he hath never seen?
Yea, would I were the son of any man,
So he were happy and might reach old age
On his own threshold! But I answer true:
That most ill-fated man of mortal kind—
I am his son; thou hast what thou hast asked.”
But fiery-eyed Athene answering said:
“‘ Howbeit no nameless generation thine
Have Gods created for the after-times,
In that Penelope hath brought thee forth
Such as thou showest to be! But tell me more
What feast, what throng of men is this? What need
Brings them upon thy charge? A drinking bout,
Or wedding banquet ? Certés, no regale
Whereof they share the outlay. Such their waste,
Such their high-handed riot in the house,
That any modest man who entered in
Were shamed to see their foul incontinence.”
To Her Telemachus made answer thus:
“As thou, my guest, inquirest of these things,
Know, that this house was once most like to rest
Rich and unhurt, whilst he abode at home,
But otherwise the Gods decreeing brought
Evils on us, ‘and such evanishment
On him, as never fell on man before.
For, had he merely perish’d, or been slain
Amongst his comrades—whether under Troy,
Or, when the war was ended, in the arms
Of his own friends—I should not thus repine ;
For then had all the Achaians built his tomb,
And for his son great glory he had gained.
But into utter silence haply snatched
By harpies he hath vanished—unbeheld,
Unheard of--leaving me these pangs and tears.
Neither for his sake only must I mourn ;
The Gods have laid upon me yet more griefs.

BOOK I. fre hath looked upon the other’s face.”
AGAINST THEM TO THE PEOPLE 9

For all the noblest in these neighbouring lands, BOOK I.

Samé, Dulichium, and Zacynthus’ woods, 245—280,

With all who lord it in this rugged isle—

All these now woo my mother and devour

My household—whilst she neither dares refuse

The wedlock that she loathes, nor any way

Can make anend. But they destroy and eat

My substance, yea, will tear me soon to shreds!”
Whereat much-moved Athene answering said:

“Ah, sorely dost thou need Odysseus now!

His hand were heavy on their shameless crew.

Oh might he at yon threshold reappear

Shielded and helm’d, a spear in either hand,

Like the first time I saw him, on his way

From Ephyra, and resting in our house!

Thither in quest of poison he had sailed

To anoint his brass-tipp’d arrows; but his host

Ilus, the son of Mermerus, for dread

Of angry Gods, refused the man-slaying gift ;

Wherefore my father, for the exceeding love

He bare him, gave it—Could he, in that strength,

But commune with these Suitors one short hour,

Sudden their deaths, bitter their wooings, then!

But these things lie upon the knees of Gods ;

He may return and take within his halls

Full vengeance, or he will not, as They list.

But thy one thought should be, how best to chase

The wooers from thy threshold. Rouse thee then,

Apply thine understanding and a heed :

To these my words; and with the morrow call

The Achaian heroes to the market-place

And speak before them, and invoke the Gods

In witness to thy words. In order first

Command the Suitors to their several homes:

And, if thy mother hath the heart to wed,

Let her return to her great father’s house ;

Where they shall make her marriage-feast, and find

Fit gifts to follow a belovéd child.

Next, if thou hear’st me, for thyself I urge

This strongly, that thou take a ship, thy best,

Of twenty oars, embark thereon, and seek
BOOK I.
281—313.

10 AND THEN TO SEARCH FOR HIS FATHER

News of thy father absent now so long;

If man may tell thee aught, or if the Voice

Of Zeus, that lifteth highest the fame of men,

Rumour, be haply heard.—First therefore steer

For Pylos, and of godlike Nestor ask ;

And thence to Menelaus auburn-haired

In Sparta, since of all the mail-frocked host

He hath returned the last.—For, if thou hear’st

Thy father living and hope for his return,

More patient of this sorrow could’st thou bide

A one-year’s space; or, if thou hear’st him dead,

No longer living, then thou can’st return

To this dear native soil, to heap his cairn

And slay all offerings about it as is due,

And for thy mother find another mate.

After these duties are ended and complete,

Then with thy utmost force of heart and mind

Would’st thou consider how in this thy home

To slay the Suitors—whether in open fight

Or by some guile ; thou art not of the years

Longer to think or suffer as a child.

Hast thou not heard the glory through the world

Divine Orestes won because he killed

His father’s murtherer, false Egisthus, who

By subtle craft slew Atreus’ mightier son ?

And thou, dear youth,—for I behold thee fair

And large of limb—thou too art strong to win

A good name from the men of after-times.

Now to mine arrowy galley and my crew,

Who loth await me loitering, I return ;

Be these things thine own care, and heed my words.”
To whom the sage young Prince replied, and said :

‘My guest, most like a father’s to a son

Thy friendly rede, I never will forget.

But yet remain awhile, whate’er the haste

Of this thy voyage ; so shalt thou be bathed,

And with a heart refresh’d return aboard,

Rejoiced, and bearing with thee some fair gift,

Precious, exceeding beautiful, to be

Memorial of thy sojourn in my house,

And such as hosts bestow on guests beloved.”
PENELOPE REMONSTRATING 11

The child of Zeus Athene made reply: BOOK I.
“Delay me now no longer, in despite 314—336.
Of mine own yearning for the voyage on.

Whatever gift thy heart would bid bestow,

Give it when I return again, to take

Home with me; and, be mindful, choose thy best,
Thou shalt receive its full equivalent!’ *

Speaking, the virgin Goddess pass’d away,
Vanishing like a bird i’ the blue,t but breathed
In the youth’s heart new spirit and strength, and brought
His father to his thoughts, ev’n more than erst.
So he, revolving what had passed, remain’d
Awe-stricken, for he felt a God was there ;

Then in his heavenly beauty sought the crowd.

To whom was singing still the far-famed bard ;
And they sate hearkening all in silence round,
Whilst he stood singing of the sad return
Laid by Athene on the Argive Chiefs.

His song the high-soul’d Queen Penelope,
Icarius’ daughter, from her upper rooms
In mournful meditation listening heard ;
And now descended down the stair that led
From her high house—not unattended, two
Her handmaids followed; till, as she approached
The Suitors, by a column of the roof
Pausing, she stood, the flower of women, and drew
Her glistening head-dress down her face, the while
On either side a gentle handmaid stood ;
Thence she, the bard addressing, spoke in tears:

* gol 3 &iiov Zora duoiBis. Of the many interpretations offered by
Riddell and Merry I prefer ‘“‘ Thou shalt have the full value of it in the
return-gift”. Hayman hasno note. And the Scholiast understands
&fioy duorBis as only meaning ‘having a good exchangeable value,”
i.é., precious.

+ opus 5° &s dvowaia. This word does not occur elsewhere. It may
be the name of the bird, a view strongly advocated by Hayman. But
Riddell and Merry prefer the simpler derivation from avw, like ‘Yrepety
from rtp. The explanation “up the chimney” or through the
smoke-vents (émafa) is below criticism; nor is that of dopatws
(unseen) much better.
BOOK I.
337—366,

12 WITH THE BARD IS CHECKED BY HER SON

“Pull many another lovely strain is thine
To charm our ears, O Phemius—acts of Gods,
Or men heroic, such as minstrels choose
For celebration: out of these select
Some other to be sung before the Chiefs,
And let them still attentive ouaff their wine;
Only from this one mournful. ay desist ;
Too deeply to my heart of hearts it stabs
With the sharp pang of grief remediless.
For the loved man, whom I have lost, and mourn
For ever—he was such as those thou singst,
Ev’n he, my hero-husband, by renown
Through central Argos and all Hellas famed.”

To whom Telemachus replied and spoke:
“‘Nay, mother, toa well-belovéd Bard
Wouldst thou begrudge the privilege to charm
In whatsoever mood his spirit is raised ?
Not to the bard the sadness of his song,
Rather to Zeus impute it, who bestows
Such varying fortunes on adventurous men.
Small blame for him to sing the Danaans’ doom;
For ever men applaud that lay the most
Which makes its circuit latest to their ears.
And be thy heart inured to bear it too;
For not alone at Troy hath Odyseus
Fail’d to behold the day of his return,
But many others there have likewise fallen.
Go then, employ thee on familiar tasks
In thine own rooms, the distaff or the loom,
Or bid thy maidens ply their daily work ;
On men is speech incumbent,—most on me,
To whom the mastery of this house belongs.”
Astonied, to her chamber she returned,
Yet in her heart pondering her son’s address.
But soon ascending to the upper rooms
With her handmaidens there she wept, and wailed
The lost Odysseus, till Athene threw
Sweet sleep across her eyelids showered at last.

The Suitors clamour’d through the shadowy halls,
Vowing her each the partner of his bed,
TELEMACHUS APPEALS IN VAIN 13

Till sage Telemachus addressed them thus: BOOK I.

“O ye who in your over-weening mood 367—395.
Still woo my mother! Let us for this while
Feast at our ease, and hush this clamour down;
Since such a bard as this, the peer of Gods
For his sweet voice, it is delight to hear.

But to a council in the market-place

I summon you to-morrow, there to speak

My blunt and frank commandment to you all,
To leave my house forthwith. Go, seek elsewhere
Your feasts, devour your own possessions up;
Shift, as ye choose, the burthen, each on each!
Or, if you still declare it good to live

At one man’s cost, consuming all his wealth,
Make havoc as ye will! I can but cry

For justice to the everlasting Gods,

If haply Zeus may grant me my revenge:

Then would ye perish in these self-same halls,
Nor find more compensation * than ye pay!”

He ceased, and all in wonder stared, and bit
Their own lips close, so hardily he spoke ;
Antinéus, Eupeithes’ son, replied :

“ Surely the gods themselves, Telemachus,

Now teach thee royal talk and brave discourse.

I pray that Kronos’ Son may never raise

Thee to our throne in sea-girt Ithaca,

Though from thy father thine the claim by birth.”

To whom the sage young Prince in answer spoke :
“« Antinous, since t whatever I might say
Would still provoke thine anger, rest assured,

If Zeus vouchsafes it, I will take the crown.
Callst thou an evil thing the King’s estate ?
It is no evil to be King; his house
Becometh rich, and he the more renowned.
Howbeit, Achaian chieftains, young and old,

* The parallel lies between the compensation which the Shade of
a dead man would receive if his death were avenged, and that which
the Suitors owe to Telemachus for the waste of his substance. As
the Suitors refuse to pay the one, so they will not receive the other.

t Reading with Heyne ’Avtlyo’, efrep pot kal aydooea, 6,771 Kev
elrw.
BOOK I.
396—431.

14. TO THE SUITORS AND ALL RETIRE

Are many in this isle of Ithaca ;
Let him, who can, succeed unto the throne.
But of our own fair house and o’er the slaves
My father won me, I will be sole lord.”’
To whom Eurymachus Polybus’ son:
‘“Who shall be chosen King of Ithaca—
This lies upon the knees of heavenly Gods.
Preserve thy substance, reign in thine own house,
Nor, while this island is the home of man,
Let any arrive to lop a leaf away
Without thy free consent. But, noble Prince,
Let me inquire about thy stranger-guest.
Whence came he? Of what land he boasts to be?
And where his birth-place and his native soil ?
Bringeth he tidings of thy father near,
Or came he in the need of some relief ?
How on the sudden he sprang up, and went,
Nor waited recognition! Yet, methought,
He seem’d no base-born vagrant to the eye.”
And sage Telemachus thus answering said:
‘ Hope of return hath perish’d for my Sire.
I trust no tidings now, nor heed at all
The omens, when my mother calls and makes
Inquiry of some soothsayer in our house.
This was my father’s friend from Taphos’ isle ;
Mentes, who boasts himself Anchialus’ son,
And rules the Taphian race of mariners.”
Telemachus so spake, but in his heart
Knew the immortal Goddess for his guest.
To dance and song delightful then they turned,
Waiting in joyaunce till the eve should fall ;
And dusky eve upon their joyaunce fell.
Anon they parted, each to lay him down
In his own mansion; but Telemachus,
Entering a chamber on the courtyard built,
Seen from the pillar’d courtyard’s corridors,
Went musing to his couch: and at his side
Euryclea bare the flaming links, his nurse
Daughter of Ops, Peisenor’s son, whom first
Laértes with his own possessions bought
In her first youth, for twenty oxen paid;
TO REST FOR THE NIGHT 15

Like to his own chaste wife he honoured her, BOOK 1.
Yet lay not with her, for his wife’s content. 432—444.
She bare the torches for Telemachus,

Who more than the other handmaids of the house

Loved him, for she had nursed him as a babe.

The well-built chamber’s doors he opened soon,

Sate on the couch, and doffed his tunic fine,

And gave it to the nurse’s heedful hands ;

The which she folded up, and smoothed, and hung

Hard by the inlaid bedstead, on its peg,

And leaving then the chamber drew the door

Close by its silver handle, and shot the bolt *

Home by its dangling thong. So all night through

Wrapt in the softest of woollen cloth he lay

Pondering the voyage by Athene bid.

*xryls h. 1. the bolt, not the key, of the door. It was, of course,
inside the room. But it could be drawn or withdrawn also by a thong
which passed outside through a slit in the door, and which could also
be wound round the xopévy or outside handle. And if this were
done, the door of course would have to be opened from outside. Cf.
Op., xxi., 46, 241, and Riddell and Merry, ad locum.
BOOK II.
1—30.

16 THE PEOPLE ARE SUMMONED

ODYSSEY II.

With the first birth of rosy-fingered Dawn
The loved son of Odysseus, clothed anew,
Sprang off his couch, about him slung a sword,
Bound broider’d sandals on his glistening feet,
And left his chamber, like a God in face.

The clear-toned heralds first he charged to call
The Achaian heroes to their market-place ;
Who made their proclamation, and the folk
Were soon assembling. After all had met,
Himself, a brazen javelin in his hand,

Went down, not unattended,—two swift hounds
Follow’d; the people marvell’d as he came,
Such grace Athene shed ineffable

About him. To his father’s seat he moved,
The Elders yielding way. Rose first to speak
Egyptius, wise in counsel, bow'd with years,
Whose best-loved son had followed Odyseus
Aboard the hollow galleys to the plains

Of Ilion—Antiphus, a man-at-arms,

Whom the wild Cyclops in his cavern’d den
Had swallow’d—last of those he there consumed.
Of his three other sons, Eurynomus

Had joined the Suitors ; two maintained his farms;
But Antiphus he never could forget

Nor cease from still lamenting ; for whose sake
The tears were in his eyes, as he began:

““Hearken my words, O men of Ithaca!
Since great Odysseus went aboard his bark,
No meeting hath been ours, no session called.
And who hath now assembled us? To whom,
Young man or elder, hath such need arisen ?
Hath he had tidings of the host’s return,

(16)
TELEMACHUS PLEADS HIS CAUSE 17

Whereof to tell us what he first hath heard? BOOK II.
Or hath he other matter to set forth 31—62.
In speech that may concern the public weal?
Welcome to me, most blesséd, were such wight,
May Zeus vouchsafe him all his heart’s desire!”’

He spoke, and Odyseus’ dear son rejoiced
In the good omen of that old man’s word,
Nor rested silent, for he burned to speak,
But midmost of the assembly passing stood.
A herald, learnéd in all wise discourse,
Peisenor, placed the sceptre in his hand;
And, rallying first the Elder, thus he spoke:

“Not far, my Sire, that wight most bless’d, and thou
Wilt know him for myself, for I have called
This council—for my own sore sorrows’ sake.
No tidings of the host’s return are mine
Whereof to tell thee what I first have heard ;
Nor have I other matter to set forth
In speech that may concern the public weal;
But my own personal grievance, and the ill
That hath befallen my house—a two-fold woe,
First, that my noble father I have lost,
Your king, but, like your father, mild of rule,
And next, what now ev’n presses more, and soon
Will break my household up and clean destroy
My substance—Lo these many Suitors, sons
Of the Chiefs noblest in this island, woo
My mother by brute force against her will,
Yet shrink from going to her father’s house
Icarius, who might load his child with gifts,
Giving her to whom he listed and approved
As mate most welcome—nay, but, day by day,
Killing our sheep and cattle, ranging free
Through the whole house, they riot and revel and drink
All into utter waste our bright-hued wines !
And the most part already is consumed ;
For there is no man present, like to what
Odysseus was, to drive this curse away;
And we alone suffice not but would show
Feeble against them and unversed in arms.
Fain would I battle, had I but the power !

2
BOOK Il.
63—96,

18 ANTINOUS REPLIES BY THROWING

Insufferable now these miseries ;

My house is perishing—to your disgrace.

O think some shame amongst you, of yourselves
And of the neighbouring nations round about,
And fear the Gods’ great anger, lest they wax
Indignant, and turn round on these ill deeds.
Yea, I entreat you, by Olympian Zeus,

By Themis who dissolves alike and calls

Councils together! Dear my friends, refrain,
Leave me at least to solitude—unless

Ye deem this fair requital for some wrong

Or evil service to the Achaian host

Rendered by brave Odysseus in the war,

And for this cause incite your sons against me !
Liefer for me had you yourselves consumed

My stores and cattle! If the guilt were yours,
There might be some redress; for we would cling
About you in entreaty through the streets,
Demanding back, till all had been repaid ;

But now with cureless wounds ye pierce my heart.”

He ceased, and dash’d the sceptre against the ground
For anger, while hot tears coursed down his cheek.
Compassion of him on the people fell ;

And all the rest in silence sate, nor found
The heart to answer him with violent words ;
Only Antinous spoke and thus replied:

“ Hail, Prince and braggart, fount of fire unquenched!
What speech is this thou arguest to our shame,
To brand us with reproach beyond desert ?

The Achaian Wooers cause thee not this harm,
But thine own mother with her tricks and wiles.
This the third year, and soon the fourth will run,
Since she into confusion throws our hearts,
Bidding each hope, and promising to each

With messages of peace—unmeant in deed.
This was another of her stratagems;

She set a great frame up within her room,
Smooth, and exceeding large, and thereupon
Began her weaving, and said suddenly

Amongst us, ‘ Princes, ye who woo me thus,
Seeing that divine Odysseus is no more,
ALL BLAME ON HIS MOTHER 19

Refrain from pressing on your suits, until BOOK II.

I shall have ended quite this woven cloth 97-130.

(So that my labour may not be in vain),

A shroud to swathe Laértes, against the day

He meets the doom of melancholy death ;

Lest else Achaian women cry me shame,

Amongst the townsfolk, that, despite his wealth,

They see him lying shroudless.’ So she spake,

And our high tempers yielded to her word.

Then every day upon that web she wove

What she unwove by torchlight in the nights,

And three years long so guiled the Achaian Chiefs,

Till some accomplice amongst her women told,

And in the act, unweaving her fine work,

We found her: then, however loth, perforce,

She made the task complete. Our answer take,

Know it thyself, and let these others know.

Thy mother now dismiss, and bid her wed

Whomso her father, or herself, may list.

Else—if she persevere in this annoy

Much longer, using so the faculties

Wherewith Athene hath endowed her mind—

So that she knoweth every gentle craft,

All excellent device, and cunning turns,

Such as no woman of the ancient times,

Not Tyro, not Alcmena, nor fair-crown’d

Mykené, child of Inachus, could boast ;

Not one of these against Penelope

Could vie in equal wisdom—yet this last

Of her sage counsels, certés, bodes not well;

For, whilst she holds this temper, in her breast

Implanted by the Gods, so long we eat

Thy heritage and substance ; and she builds

Unto herself much glory, but to thee,

For great possession wasted, long regrets!

Since neither home nor elsewhere will we go,

Till she hath chosen and wedded whom she wills.”
To whom Telemachus in answer said:

“Yet in no way, Antinous, might I thrust

My mother, her who bare and nurtured me,

By force against her wish from out my house.
BOOK Il.
131—163.

20 THE PRINCE APPEALS TO ZEUS WHO

Also my father somewhere upon earth

Is haply living still, or may be dead.

And, if I send my mother loth adrift,

How for Icarius could I find his due ?

Nor from Icarius only were my pain,

But more from Heaven were added. As she went,
On the dread Furies against me she would call ;
And shame would likewise fall on me from men.
No, never will I make her such farewell,

If Honour in your hearts hath any place,

Go, get ye from my palace; seek elsewhere
Your feasts: devour your own possessions up,
Shift, as ye may, the burthen, each on each!
But, if ye still declare it good to live

At one man’s cost, consuming all his wealth,
Make havoc as ye will! I hereby cry

For justice on the everlasting Gods,

If haply Zeus may grant me my revenge ;

Then would ye perish in these very halls,

Nor find more compensation than ye pay!”

He ceased, and to his words wide-glancing Zeus
From a high mountain’s peak sent forth to fly
Two eagles, that with outstretched wings awhile
Each near the other smoothly on the breeze
Floated; but, soon above the assembly poised
Right o’er its hubbub, wheeled them round, and shook
Their plumes off, looking down on all below
With death-foreboding omen ; for they tare
In their fierce talons cheek and throat, and passed
On the right hand across the streets and town.
The people gazed astonied on those birds,
Foreshadowing what might haply come to pass;
Till Halitherses Mastor’s agéd son
(Alone of all his generation skilled
To interpret and declare the flights of birds),
Addressed them thus with speech discreet, and said:

“Hearken my words, all men of Ithaca!
Though to the Suitors in the main I turn,

On whom this threatening billow now impends.
No long while more Odysseus will remain
In darkness, but already somewhere near
SENDS AN OMEN WHICH THEY SCORN 21

On these his mortal enemies designs BOOK II.
Death sudden, and a bloody doom; but ill 164—200,
Must thence to others of our race ensue

Who dwell in Ithaca’s far-sparkling isle.

Take counsel therefore to prevent them—Nay,
Let these desist themselves ; ‘twere better so.
For I, no idle seer, read omens well;

And all I uttered, when the host embarked

For Ilion and Odysseus with them went,

Will soon, I now declare, be brought to pass.

I said that, after suffering countless woes,

After the loss of all his company,

Unknown to any, in the twentieth year,

He would come home; these things are being fulfilled.”
. To whom Eurymachus, Polybus’ son:

“ Hence, dotard! keep thy prophecies for home
And thine own children, lest they suffer harm.

I boast me surer prophet far than thou.

For birds by myriads in the sunshine flit,

But every passage is not for a sign.

Odysseus long time since and far away

Hath perish’d—as ’twere better thou hadst died
By the same death; this prate oracular

Thou wouldst not then have utter’d nor unslipp’d
The leash to young Telemachus, perchance

In expectation of some secret gift !

But hearken, what will surely come to pass.

If from this store of antique wisdom thou
Beguile the younger sort to mutiny

Against us, he, thy prince, will suffer first,

And then on thee, old man, shall be imposed
Such fine as thou wilt well be chafed to pay;
Yea, sorely shalt thou feel the smart thereof.

My own advice is to Telemachus

To send his mother to her father’s house,

Where they will make her marriage-feast, and find
Fit gifts to follow a belovéd child.

For never will the Achaian Chieftains here
Forego this troublous courtship for the dread

Of any man soever—least of all

For young Telemachus though loud of tongue :
BOOK II.
201—233,

22 HE ASKS THE LOAN OF A SHIP

Nor heed they more this oracle, that thou,

Old man, to no good purpose hast declared,

Only to gain the general hate thereby.

And the possessions of this house shall still

After our own ill fashion be consumed

Without a compensation, whilst the queen

Thus wears us out; for, tarrying month by month,
Moved by her virtues, after other brides

We go not, whom we else were fain to wed.”

To whom Telemachus replying spoke :

“‘ Eurymachus, and ye the wooers all!
Enough of these entreaties, from henceforth
I make no more: The everlasting Gods,

Be they my witness, and the Achaians here !
But give me one swift galley and a score

Of oarsmen for a voyage and return.

In Pylos and in Sparta I would seek

News of my father absent now so long,

If man may tell me aught, or if the Voice
Of Zeus that lifteth highest the fame of men,
Rumour, be haply caught. For, if I hear
My father lives and hope for his return,
More patient of this sorrow might I bide

A one year’s space: or, if I learn him dead
Nor longer living, then I could sail back

To this dear native soil, to heap his cairn
And slay all offerings about it as is due,

And for my mother find another mate.”

He spoke, and sate him down. Next rose the friend
Of great Odysseus, Mentor, to whose hands
The King had ere departure given the charge
O’er all his house, that they might hear his voice
Obedient, and maintain all things in place.
He now addressed them with wise speech, and said:

“ Hearken my words, O men of Ithaca!
No more let sceptred King refrain, or care
Henceforward to be mild and merciful,

Or righteous, or to keep him just or pure—
Rather be hard of heart and work misdeed !
Since of the people whom Odysseus ruled
Like their own father with a gentle hand,
MENTOR SUPPORTS TELEMACHUS 23

Not one in dear remembrance holds him now. BOOK Il.
Verily, to the Suitors’ haughty troop pat —2k:
I grudge not that from out their evil hearts
They do these deeds of violence: they eat
Odysseus’ household up, but play their lives
At stake upon it, saying he comes no more.
But most with you, the townsfolk, I am wroth:
How ye sit dumb, nor, spite your numbers, stay
This puny crew of wooers with a word!”

Evenor’s son Leocritus replied:
“ Mentor, of spirit perverse and mind distraught!
What policy is thine who wouldst incite
The mob to rise against us! Task it were *
For us against such numbers to maintain
Our feastings here! Even though the Ithacan,
Odysseus, came himself and sought to drive
This host of wooers from his banquet-halls,
Little the joy his coming then would yield
For all her yearnings to Penelope ;
Since, if he ever engaged against such odds,
He would but draw down evil on himself.
But these thy words are idle. Rather rise,
Let the folk scatter all to their estates ;
Whilst Halitherses old, and Mentor wise,
Dear comrades of his father from the first,
Haste for Telemachus his pilgrimage.

* dpyadedy Se

&vdpact al wAcdverot waxerodoOa ep) daitos

This is one of the few passages in the poem of which it is difficult
to decipher the true meaning. The rendering I have given in the text
seems to be that preferred by Nitzsch and Dr. Merry. Its weak point
seems to be that it hardly lays so much stress on wep) da?ros as appears
in the original, especially as da:vyuévous is repeated in the subsequent
illustration. But if we take it with Mr. Worsley and Dr. Hayman to
mean ‘It is hard even for men with odds in their favour to come to
the scratch for a matter of beef and bread,” the force of the subse-
quent illustration is quite lost. Or if, with Béthe and Cowper, we
understand the words with no ironical meaning and construe “ It is
hard for men even with odds in their favour to fight (successfully) for
good cheer. The well-fed Suitors would even beat Odysseus ”—again
the illustration is not much to the point; and the sentiment is in
direct contradiction to Antinous’ estimate of the relative strength
between the Suitor and the populace. Op, xvi., 380-83.
BOOK II.
255—287,

24 BUT IN VAIN—THE COUNCIL CLOSES

But he, I doubt, will rest an idler here,

The news he gathers are in Ithaca,

Nor will he e’er perform this voyage forth.”
He ended thus, and on the sudden set

The assembly free ; and all the people went

Each to his dwelling, while the Suitors turned

Into divine Odysseus’ halls again.

But all alone along the ocean’s shore
Telemachus departed, dipp’d his hands
In the grey brine, and on Athene called:
“Hear me, O Thou, who yester-eve, a God,
Camest to my house and badest me go aboard
A galley o’er the cloud-streak’d main to seek
News of my father absent now so long!
Yet seest thou how the Achaians waste my goods,
And most these Suitors in their mood misproud ? ”
He pray’d, and to his prayer Athene came,
Guised like to Mentor both in form and voice,
Stood at his side, and spake these wingéd words:
“« Howbeit, no coward base nor slow of wit
Wilt thou, Telemachus, display thyself,
If but a spark of that true native fire
Lives in thy veins, which once Odysseus showed,
Mighty to bear him through in word and deed—
So shalt thou end this travel, not in vain.
’Twould prove thee of Penelope not born,
Nor his true child, shouldst thou, I trow, not bring
This thy desire to pass. Rare come the sons,
Who peer their father ; most degenerate ;
Some few are nobler. But, since thou, it seems,
Wilt show no coward base nor slow of wit,
Nor hath Odysseus’ cunning fail’d thee quite—
Remains some hope of a successful end.
Enough then of these wooers’ ill intent—
Ah fools unwise, who know not gloomy fate
Now nigh them—all to perish on one day !
This journey that thou crav’st may soon be made ;
So good a Helper I thy father’s friend
Will be, and soon will launch a galley forth,
And follow thee myself. Meantime return
ATHENE PROMISES A SHIP 25

Into thy house, and with the Suitors mix ; BOOK II.
Furnish thee with all food for travel fit, 288—320.
In pitchers put—the wine in jugs of stone,
The corn, the marrow of man, in leathern jars ;
Whilst I will quickly through the town collect
A voluntary crew. Ships, new and old,
Are many moor’d on Ithaca’s sea-girt isle ;
Of these the best will I survey, and so
O’er the broad ocean we will go prepared.”
So spake the virgin Goddess, and the prince
Hasted, obedient to the voice divine,
Into the palace with a troubled heart.
He found the insolent wooers all within,
Some flaying goats, but others in the court
Singeing fat boars. Antinous with loud laugh
Moved right upon him, caught his hand, and said:
“Hail, Prince and braggart, fount of fire unquenched !
Yet trouble not the mind within thy breast
By broodings o’er injurious word or deed;
And eat and drink with us as heretofore.
So may the Achaians grant thee all thy wish,
A ship and chosen oarsmen; so with speed
To sacred Pylos thou mayst go, and there
Find tidings of thy noble father dead.”
To whom in answer sage Telemachus:
“ To feast unmurmuring or find tranquil ease
Amongst your haughty troop, Antinéus,
Is mine no longer. Are ye not content,
O Suitors, with the havoc ye have wrought
Amongst my rich possessions all these years
Whilst I was still a stripling, a mere child ?
But now, a full man grown, I hold discourse
And learn the account of others and my heart
Waxes within me. Never will I rest
From striving how by whatsoever means
In Pylos or amongst the homesteads here
I may launch down destruction on your heads.
I go (nor vain my voyage) as I may,
A passenger aboard an alien bark,
Since crew nor galley of my own are none,
So hardly deem ye fit to deal with me,”
BOOK II.
321—353.

26 FOR WHICH TELEMACHUS PROCURES

He spoke, and drew from out Antinous’ hand
Right easily his own: the Suitors turned
Busy throughout the palace o'er their feast ;
But gibed the while with bitter words, and one
Of the proud youths would to his neighbour say:

“Behold him now in meditation deep
How to effect our slaughter! Will he bring
From sandy Pylos or from Sparta’s town
An army of avengers? This intent
Is strong and stern within him. Or he goes
To Ephyra’s fat land, to fetch perchance
Some deadly poisons thence, and these will cast
Into the cup, and so destroy us all!”

To whom some other of the troop would say:
“Yea, yet who knoweth but that he too goes,
Like great Odysseus on his hollow ship
To wandering exile and a lonely death?

Wer’t so, our task were heavier, to divide
His wealth amongst us all, and with this house
Endow his mother and whome’er she weds!”

Thus these amongst each other; he the while
Descended to a chamber, broad, high-roof’d,
His father’s, where lay garner’d gold and brass,
Raiment in coffers, and much fragrant oil.
Therein stood also jars of ancient wine,
Sweet-savour’d, by the wall in order ranged,

In each a drink delicious, vintage pure,
Prompt for Odysseus, if he e’er should come
After his many sufferings laboured through.
Lock’d panels, fitted close with double valves,
Led to it, and, all nights and days, within

A trusted matron dwelt, Eurycléa,

Daughter of Ops Peisenor’s son, and watched,
With a minutest heed preserving all:

To whom Telemachus now call’d, and said:

“My nurse, now draw me wine in pitchers forth,
Sweet, the best-savour’d after that thou keep’st
In fond expectancy of him, thy lord
Ill-fated, if he haply may return,

Zeus-born Odysseus, and escape the Fates.
Twelve jars so fill, and fit them all with lids.
SUPPLIES FROM EURYCLEA THE NURSE 27

Grain likewise into well-knit skins outpour ; BOOK Il.
Of meal let twenty measures be, from corn 354—385.
Bruised in the mill. Know this thyself alone ;
But all together and forthwith be done;
Since on this eve, when to her upper room
My mother hath betaken her for repose,
I will return and take these stores. I go
To sandy Pylos and to Sparta’s town,
To make inquiry of my father’s fate,
If haply I may hear of his return.”
He spoke ; his loving nurse, Eurycléa,
Gave a sharp cry, lamenting, and replied:
“Dear child! And whither wouldst thou go so fain
For a long journey, being, as thou art,
Beloved and only son? For Odyseus
Hath perish’d far from his dear native land
Amid some alien people. And these men
Will plot against thee, if thou goest, some ill
Impendent, that by guile thou mayst be killed
And they may part among them thy estate.
Rest rather; in thine own domain abide.
Thou art not meet to wander forth alone,
Or to bear sufferings on the barren sea.”
To whom in answer sage Telemachus:
“Be cheer’d, my nurse: not uninspired from heaven
Is this my counsel. Swear me now an oath,
Thou wilt not tell my mother aught of this,
Till the eleventh or the twelfth day hence,
Or till herself may miss me and inquire
And learn me gone; lest else she weep the more
And for the sudden grief her lovely bosom tear.”
He spoke; the agéd matron by the Gods
Sware a great oath; and, when she thus had sworn
An oath completed, turned to draw the wine
In jars, and into well-knit skins pour’d corn ;
Whilst he returning with the Suitors mix’d.

Then of yet other means Athene thought.
In likeness of Telemachus, She went
All ways throughout the city, near each man
Taking her stand, and whispered each her word,
BOOK II.
386—419.

28 ATHENE ENLISTS A CREW AND

Bidding them gather on the fall of eve

At the swift galley; which she then besought
Noemon, Phomius’ glorious son, to lend;
Whereto he pledged his promise, nothing loth.

The Sun descended and the streets grew dusk,
When she drew down into the sea the ship
And added all appurtenance thereto
Which well-bench’d galleys carry, and left it launched
Upon the roadstead’s edge ; the gallant crew
(The Goddess wing’d their feet) assembled soon.
Then of yet other means Athene thought.
Into divine Odysseus’ halls she passed,
And shower’d sweet slumber across the Suitors’ eyes,
Staggering them ’mid their drinking, from their hands
Striking the cups; so that they gat them forth
Unto their dwellings, caring not to sit
Longer, for sleep was falling upon their lids.
From out the household-chambers then the prince
She summoned, and addressed him thus, and said:
‘“Thy arm’d companions rest upon their oars,
Telemachus, already, and await
Only thy signal; let us therefore go,
Nor longer here delay our voyage forth.”
And, as she spoke, the Goddess led the way
Swiftly, he followed on her steps divine ;
Till, when they gained the galley and the sea,
The well-born crew upon the beach they found,
And all in youthful vigour spoke the Prince:
“ Rollow me, Friends, and fetch the stores, which now
Stand gathered in one chamber; neither knows
My mother in the house nor any maid
Of our departure, save my nurse alone.”
He spoke, and led the way; they followed him,
And brought, and on the well-bench’d galley stowed,
As bidden by Odysseus’ son, the stores.

Telemachus then mounted up the ship,
But Pallas went before, and at the stern
Took seat, and he beside her. There they loosed
The moorings, and the oarsmen all embarked
THEY ALL EMBARK AT NIGHTFALL — 29

Were ranged along the benches. Last, She raised BOOK II.
A prosperous breeze behind them blowing clear 420—434.
O’er the dark wine-hued waters. On the crew

Calling, Telemachus then bade them rig

The vessel up. Obediently they heard,

And lifted, in its hollow’d cross-plank fixed,

And bound with forestays firm a pinewood mast ;

Whereto with leathern ropes they hoisted sail,

White-glistening, swelling to the buxom wind ;

Loud sounded off the stem the purpling wave,

As lightly making way the galley ran.

When all the rigging through the ship was fast,
They raised their goblets crown’d with wine on high,
And to the immortal Inheritors of Heaven
Poured full libations forth, but most to Her,

The Virgin fiery-eyed and Child of Zeus:
All night, and through the dawn, the ship pierced on.
30 REACHING PYLOS AT DAWN THEY FIND

ODYSSEY III.

BOOK III. The Sun had left the lovely mere, and sprung
1—25. Up to his course, to shine, amongst the Gods,
On many a brazen mansion built in heaven,
And, amongst mortals, on their fruitful fields,
When they to Pylos came, the well-built town
Of Neleus. On the shingle there they found
The townsfolk making sacrifice of bulls,
Black bulls and speckless to the dark-tress’d God
Poseidon, Shaker of the boundless earth.
Nine cirques were there, and sitting in each cirque
Five hundred men, and at each shrine nine bulls:
And they were tasting of the inner parts
But burning the thigh-slices to the God,
When the crew thither came to port, and struck
And furl’d their sails, then moor’d their galley fast,
And disembarked themselves. Telemachus
Came after, but Athene led the way,
The virgin Child of Zeus, and thus began:
“ Henceforth, Telemachus, dismiss all shame;
Since thou hast ventured over the wide sea
For this sole cause, that thou mayst boldly ask
News of thy father, where the earth perchance
Now hides him, or what fate he hath incurred,
Straight therefore to yon chieftain, Nestor, go,
And learn what knowledge in his heart he holds;
Beseech him, that he tell thee all things true ;
Too shrewd and sage is he to speak thee false.”
To whom Telemachus in answer said:
“ How, Mentor, should I go? How greet him first,
Being all unpractised in discourse? And shame
Forbids the young from questioning the old.”
To whom the bright-eyed Goddess made reply:
NESTOR PRESIDING AT A FESTIVAL 31

“Thine own mind will instruct thee in some part, BOOK III.

Telemachus, and otherwhiles some God 26—59.

Will grant thee inspiration; not unblest

By heavenly favour wast thou born and bred.”
She spoke, and led him quickly following on

Into the Pylian gathering ; right betwixt

The cirques they passed to where with all his sons

Sate Nestor; and his household round about

(Some roasting, piercing some with spits, the meats)

Made their meal ready, but had hardly seen

Their coming guests, when all together ran

To greet them with warm hands, and bid them rest.

Foremost was Nestor’s son, Pisistratus,

Who took the hand of each, and bade them sit

Near the repast, on fleeces soft outlaid

O’er the sea-sand, betwixt brave Thrasymed

His brother, and his father. Then to each

He gave his portion of the food, and poured

Wine into a golden cup, wherewith he pledged

The Child of A2gis-wielding Zeus, and said:
“Thou hast alighted hither, O my guest,

Encountering King Poseidon’s festal-day ;

Render to him thy worship; and, when thou

Hast made thine own libation and thy prayer

In manner due, to this youth then transfer

The cup of honey-tasted wine, that he

May make his also: he not less is fain

To worship; all men feel the need of Gods.

But he is younger and of age like mine;

Therefore to thee I give the gold cup first.”
He spoke, and put the chalice, filled with wine,

Into her hands; and Athenaié smiled,

Rejoicing in the righteous-minded man,

For that he gave to Her the gold cup first ;

And straight on King Poseidon thus she called:
“Hear me, O great Enclasper of the earth!

Nor grudge fulfilment unto this our prayer.

To Nestor and his noble children grant

Great glory to companion them through life ;

On all the Pylian people next bestow

Gracious requital for this hecatomb ;
BOOK III.
60—91.

32 AFTER LIBATION TO POSEIDON

And to Telemachus and me vouchsafe
That, ere returning, we attain the end
For which aboard our swift black bark we came!”
All She herself was bringing now to pass,
Thus She besought, and gave the double cup
To Odyseus’ dear son, who made his prayer
In the like words. But, when they now had dressed
And from the fire had drawn the upper parts
Of the bull’s flesh, they meted out to each
His portion, and betook them to their feast.
Not till desire had pass’d of drink and food,
Nestor, Gerené’s Hero, thus began:
“When guests have had of food their full delight,
Then in all honour may their host inquire
And question who and whence they boast to be.
And ye, my guests, who are ye? And from whence
Sail ye your watery way? For traffic fraught ?
Or roam ye forth at random, like some band
Of rovers on the deep, who stake their lives
Upon their venture, wandering free, and bear
Misfortune to all men of other race?”
To whom then answered sage Telemachus,
Undaunted, for Athene in his heart
Breathed a brave spirit, that he should fearless ask
News of his absent father, and might win
A fair fame for himself throughout the world:
““O Nestor, Neleus’ son, our nation’s boast!
Thou askest whence we are; I answer true.
From Ithaca, where Neius’ mount ascends,
We come, but all our own, no thing of State,
The cause for which I plead. I only search
If haply I may hear the wide renown
Of long-enduring Odyseus divine,
My father; who, they say, once fought with thee
And with thee sacked the heavenly city of Troy.
Of all the rest who waged that war we know
Where each hath perished by his piteous doom ;
His fate alone Kroneion keeps unheard.
Neither what time he died can any say,
Nor whether he was slain by foes ashore,
Or drown’d at sea in Amphitrité’s wave.
IN ANSWER TO TELEMACHUS 33

Therefore I come, and at thy knees beseech BOOK III.

If thou be willing of his wretched fate 92—119.

To tell me aught that haply thou hast seen

Thyself, or of some storm-tost mariner heard.

In veriest truth Odysseus’ mother bare

Her son to more than mortal sorrows doomed !

Nor out of feeling for his son nor aught

Soften for pity; but inform me true

How thou hast e’er encountered sight of him.

Yea, if Odysseus ever did for thee

Aught that he promised either in word or deed

Amongst that Trojan people where ye all

Suffered so long together—in his name,

By him, my noble father, I implore,

Now bear it in remembrance, tell me true!”
Nestor, Gerené’s Hero, made reply:

“ Dear youth, since * thou recallest to my mind,

Those toils and troubles which the Achaian host

Endured with fiery spirits unsubdued

Amongst the Trojans—both aboard the fleet

All that we did upon the cloud-streak’d main

Wandering what way soe’er Achilles led

After more isles for plunder, and the fights

We fought round royal Priam’s noble town—

There where at length our greatest all were slain;

There lies brave Ajax, there Achilles lies,

Patroclus too, in counsel like to Gods,

And there the pure of blame, the strong of arm,

The fleetest and most valiant of our youth,

Mine own belovéd son, Antilochus.

And other countless evils we endured ;

What mortal tongue could name them? Not five years’

Nor six years’ lingering here to question me

Were time sufficient; ere the tale were told,

Outwearied thou wouldst get thee home again.

Nine long years through we set ourselves to work

The fall of Troy by every artifice ;

Scarce at the last Kroneion crown’d our toil.

* The anacoluthon here is in the original. It is characteristic of
Nestor to ramble in his discourses.

3
BOOK III.
120—151.

34 NESTOR DESCRIBES HIS VOYAGE HOME

Nor all those years would any chieftain hear
His name corrivall’d for wise stratagem

With thy great father Odyseus; so far

He passed all others in all manner of skill,

Thy father if he be; and as I look

A special wonder takes me; for thy speech
Resembles his; and one had said, no man

So much his younger could have caught his speech.
Neither throughout those years did Odyseus
Either in senate or in public place

Once differ from myself, but, one in heart,
United to our utmost force we took

Sage counsel, how the Argive cause might thrive.
Howbeit at last, when Priam’s steep-built town
Had fallen before us, and we all embarked

On our swift galleys (only, alas, to be

Scattered at Zeus’ high pleasure far and wide)
Disastrous our return, and long-delayed ;

For all were not discreet, nor all were just,

And many therefore brought an evil doom

On their own heads. But mostly this arose
From the dread anger of the bright-eyed Power,
Athene, mighty in her Father’s strength.
Betwixt the brother-chieftains Atreus’ Sons

She sowed dissension, whereupon they called

A general meeting to the market-place,

Vain, against order, after set of sun,

So that the people came debauch’d with wine.
Then the two brothers each set forth his cause ;
Brave Menelaus bade the assembled host
Across the sea’s broad shoulders sail forthwith.
This pleased not Agamemnon, who desired

To stay departure for a sacrifice,

So haply to appease Athene’s wrath ;

Ah fool, who knew not he would ne’er prevail,
Immortals change not for caprice their wills!
So the two stood advérse with bitter words,

Till springing to their feet, and with a shout
Tumultuous, all that mail-frocked concourse rose,
With diverse counsels of divided will,

So that we slept that night with violent thoughts
WITH MENELAUS AND OTHER CHIEFS 35

Each against other—Zeus portended woe. BOOK Il.
At dawn the morrow to the sacred sea 152—180.
One half we haul’d our galleys down, and stowed

Our spoils and deep-girt women all aboard ;

But the other half delaying there remained

With Agamemnon Shepherd of the host.

‘“‘Thus we embarked and rowed our galleys forth ;
Swiftly they sped; the monstrous yawning main
Level before them by some God was strewn.
We came to Tenedos, and rendered there,
Praying for home, due offering to the Gods ;
But Zeus unswerving in his wrath forbade
Our further progress, and a second time
Enkindled strife amongst us; so that some
(Doing to Agamemnon this delight)

Turn’d back and steered away their well-bench’d barks ;
Of whom thy father, King Odysseus, great

In subtle mind and counsel, was the chief.
But I, with all the galleys of my train
Collected in one squadron, fled right on,
Knowing the evils by the Gods foredoomed,

In like wise fled Tydides with his men ;

But royal Menelaus yellow-haired

Delay’d to join, and caught us in misdoubt

Off Lesbos on the long uncertain course
Before us; should we pass by Psyria’s isle,
Hugging it close, and leave the rocky points
Of Chios on our lee; or southward steer
’Neath windy Mimas on the Ionian shore.
Therefore we pray’d to God to give some sign ;
Who by a sign vouchsaféd bade us cross
Straight to Eubcea by the open sea,

So quickest to escape the impending ills.

And a shrill breeze to blow behind us rose ;
The galleys raced across the fish-filled deep ;
Till in Gerzestum during night we moored.
When we had measured that broad sea across,
Most thankfully the thighs of many a bull

We laid on great Poseidon’s altar there.

The fourth day’s sail from Lesbos, Diomed,
BOOK II,
181—212.

36 AFTER DEPARTURE FROM TROY

The gallant son of Tydeus, with his crews
Steered into port for Argos all his barks:

But I held on to Pylos, with the breeze

Still fair behind me which the God had sent
On the first day we started. Such, my child,
Was my return ; no tidings reached my ears;
Nor know I, who have perished, who are saved.

“ But what retired within my house I hear,
Thou hast full right to know, and I will tell
Without concealment. In good plight, they say,
The spear-famed Myrmidons have gained their homes
Led by renown’d Achilles’ glorious son:
Likewise Idomeneus hath brought to Crete
All his companions, who had ’scaped the war,
Safely—the sea hath not bereft him one:

And Philoctetes too hath thriven well.

Though islanders, ye must have heard the tale
Of Atreus’ Son, both how he came to home,
And how AEgisthus wrought his murther there:
Dreadful that murder, dreadfully atoned !

Well is it, when a dead man leaves behind

A son to be the avenger of his blood,

Like him, who slew 2gisthus afterward,
Egisthus, his great father’s murderer !

And thou, dear youth—(I see thee strongly knit
And broad of shoulder)—thou, like him, wilt win
Much glory amongst men of after-times.”

In answer sage Telemachus replied:

“O Nestor, Neleus’ son, Achaia’s boast!

Ample his vengeance; and to him will grow
Glory from us, and song from men to be.

And O that Gods would gird me with such power
As might avenge me the transgressions foul
Against me by the haughty Suitors wrought !
But not to me such happiness ; the Gods

Not so have spun my father’s thread, nor mine;
Endurance—still endurance—is our badge!”

To whom Gerené’s Hero gave reply:

“ Thy words, dear youth, recall it to my mind ;
Men say, the Suitors for thy mother's hand
DENOUNCING THE SUITORS HE THEN 37

Gathered in spite of thee within thy halls BOOK II.
Are many and evil-minded. Answer true; 213—243.
Art thou subjected of thine own free will ?
Or in some passing disrepute now held
Por heaven-sprung Rumour follow’d through the town?
And yet who knoweth Odysseus will not come,
Whether alone or with Achaian aid,
To exact full vengeance of their violence ?
Or, if the bright-eyed Goddess were but fain
To love thee, as she loved Odysseus erst,
With the exceeding care she had for him
In Troy where we endured our long distress
(Since ne’er have I beheld the Gods to man
So openly inclined, as by his side
Pallas Athene openly would stand)—-
If she, I say, were fain to love thee so
With her whole heart, some few, methinks, of those
Haught wooers would forget their bridal quite!”
To whom in answer sage Telemachus:
“Nay, Father, this may never be fulfilled.
I stand awe-stricken at so dread a word.
Such great event, even though the Gods themselves
Ordain’d it, still would come beyond my hopes.”’
Pallas Athené turned in wrath and spake:
“What saying this hath pass’d thy teeth’s white fence?
A God, if so he listed, with all ease
Might save a man, however far from home.
And liefer would I bear long years of toil
Ere I beheld the day of my return,
Than earlier come and perish on my hearth
As Agamemnon perished, by the craft
Of his own wife and by AEgisthus slain.
But Death, all-levelling Death, not even Gods
Can fend from whom they love—when once the hand
Of lamentable Death is raised to seize!”
To whom in answer sage Telemachus:
“Mentor, whate’er the trouble at our hearts,
No more of this be converse; his return
Is real no longer; Death, and a gloomy Fate,
Long-since were purposed for him by the Gods.
But | would turn and ask one question more
BOOK III.
244—273.

38 DETAILS AGAMEMNON’S MURDER

Of Nestor, since he knoweth, most of men,

All usages and customs of the world.

Thrice reigning over generations new

He seems a very Immortal to my eyes.

Therefore, Neleian Nestor, tell me this.

Broad-ruling Agamemnon, Atreus’ son—

How did he perish? Where was Menelaus?

What manner of wile did false AEgisthus weave

To vanquish one so mightier than himself?

For surely Menelaus was not then

In Argos of Achaia, but perchance

Was weather-beaten elsewhere in the world;

And, so emboldened, false AEgisthus struck.”
Nestor, Gerené’s Hero, made reply:

“Therefore this story I will tell thee true.

Thyself conjecturest well what would have happ’d

Had Menelaus Atreus’ fair-hair’d son

Alighted on Agisthus in his house

Still living, when he came from Ilion back ;

Then had no mounded cairn of earth been heaped

Ev’n after death above him, but the dogs

And all the fowls of air had torn his flesh

In the bare fields beyond the city thrown!

Nor of the Achaian maids had any wept

Mourning for him; so foul the deed he wrought.

But, whilst we bode before the walls of Troy

Our many toils achieving, he at ease

In the green horse-abounding still retreats

Of Argos sate, beguiling with his words

The ear of Clytemnestra the fair queen

Of Agamemnon; who at first repelled

The unseemly act, being custom’d to good thoughts,

And for the minstrel’s cause whom Atreus’ son

Ere his departure strongly had enjoined

To guard the queen. But, fettered now by Fate

To his ordain’d destruction, first he left

The minstrel on a solitary isle,

To perish there, of vultures food and prey ;

Then led her, nothing loth, nor he more loth,

To his own house. Upon the holy shrines

Full many a thigh of bulls he burned, and laid
AND THE ADVENTURES OF MENELAUS 39

Many thank-offerings thereupon, of gold BOOK III,
Or woven raiment, joying to have won 274—301.
Such prize as in his heart he ne’er had hoped.

“ We all this while were sailing back from Troy
Together, Menelaus and myself,
Each nursing toward the other friendly thought ;
Till, as we came off Sunium’s sacred peak,
The cape of Athens, King Apollo there
Passed with his painless darts, and sudden slew
The pilot on the ship of Menelaus—
(Even while he held the rudder in his hands,
And she was running fast)—Onetor’s son
Phrontis, unrivall’d amongst mortal men
For steering true whene’er the blasts rose high.
Therefore, however instant on his course,
Atrides was perforce delayed to give
Fit burial to his comrade and perform
All sacrifices on his tomb as due.
And, when again across the purpling sea
He started with his galleys and had come
Beneath Maleia’s hill, a second time
Zeus, for the hindrance of his passage, sent
Foul weather, blasts of shrilly winds, and raised
Huge billows, like to mountains, swollen up high;
So that his fleet in twain was sundered, and driven,
One part, on Crete, where the Cydonians dwell
About the river of Iordanus.
A certain cliff, the cape of Gortyn’s bound,
Juts o’er the misty billows, smooth and sheer ;
The south-west wind there thrusts a violent sea
In upon Phestus full against this rock,
That westward lies—a pillar slight to hold
A mighty sea away, yet holds it off.
This part ran thither and the breakers wrecked
The galleys dashed against the cliffs, and scarce
With their bare lives the gallant crews escaped.
The other part, five galleys with dark prows,
Were borne to Egypt by the wind and wave;
With these was Menelaus; and he gain’d
BOOK III.
302—332.

40 WHOM HE ADVISES TELEMACHUS

During those wanderings among foreign men
Much gold and precious substance for his house.

“ Meantime A@gisthus in his palace wrought
His foul misdeeds, and murder’d Atreus’ Son,
And under him the nation lay subdued.

He reign’d o’er rich Mycenz seven years’ space ;
But in the eighth his evil doom descended—
Noble Orestes, now from Athens back,

Who slew his father’s murderer—ev’n the false
Egisthus, his great father’s murderer!

Feast he was holding at the funeral rites

Of his dead mother and her paramour,

When Menelaus on that very day

Arrived, conveying with him all the freight

Of rare and precious things his ships had brought.

“Hence, my dear youth, take warning; stray not far
Nor long from home—thine own possessions left
And such haught insolent men within thy house ;
Lest they divide amongst them and devour
Thy substance, and thy voyage be but vain.

Yet would I urge and bid thee hence depart

To visit Menelaus. He of late

Came from a quarter, whence a man, once lost
In such a waste of waters off his course, ~
Might well despair of refuge; ev’n the birds
Pass not across it in a year-long flight ;

So vast, so dread, expands that space of sea.
Depart then on thy galley with thy crew.

Or, wouldst thou go by land, my steeds and car
Are ready for thee, and my sons to be

Thy guides to Lacedzemon’s town divine,
Where fair-haired Menelaus now abides.
Beseech him there thyself to tell thee all;

Too sage and shrewd is he to speak thee false.”

He spoke; but now the Sun had sunk, and dim
The twilight grew; Athene child of Zeus
Amongst them therefore spake these wingéd words:

‘‘These things, mine Elder, hast thou storied well.
But haste, cut up the victims’ tongues, and mix
TO VISIT IN LACEDAMON 41

More wine, that after due libation poured BOOK Ul.
Unto Poseidon and the Immortal Powers 3o5-300:
To rest we may depart. The hour hath come;

The light already hath gone below the west;

And at these holy festivals of Gods

‘Tis seemlier to rise early from our seats.”

So spake the Child of Zeus, and they obeyed.
Water upon their hands the heralds poured;
Boys crown’d with wine the bowls, and gave from thence
In cups to all by order of their rank.

Then on the fire they threw the victims’ tongues,
And rising poured libations thereupon.

The wine so poured and drunk to heart’s desire,
Then Athenaié and Telemachus

Would fain return together to their bark ;

But Nestor held them with these rallying words:

“Forefend it, Zeus, and all Immortal Powers!
That ye should go to slumber on a ship
And leave me like some wretched wight, unblest
With pelf or raiment, in whose house rich quilts
And rugs are lacking, wherewithal enwrapped
Himself may softly slumber, or his guests!

Nay, cloaks at hand and broidered quilts are mine;
Nor ever be it said Odysseus’ son

Laid him to slumber on a ship's bare planks

In Pylos whilst I lived! And when I die

Still be my children left to entertain

What guest soever at these doors alights,

And hospitable still be Nestor’s house!”

To whom the virgin Goddess made reply:
‘‘Well hast thou spoken, Elder dear-beloved !

Tis seemlier far; Telemachus obeys;

And he with thee remaining will repose

Within ; but I must haste me to the ship,

The crew to inspirit and enjoin their tasks ;

Since I alone amongst them boast myself

Of years mature: The rest are youths, and come
Attending for their friendly fellowship
Telemachus their prince and brave compeer.

This night I there will rest me; and at dawn
Must visit the brave Caucons to demand
BOOK III.
367—401.

42 AFTER SACRIFICE TO ATHENE

A debt, no little thing, nor lately due.
But speed this youth whom thou hast made thy guest
Forward on chariot mounted with thy son,
And lend thy fleetest and most staying steeds.”
Thus speaking, sparkling-eyed Athene rose
And in an osprey’s likeness passed away.
Amazement seized on all who saw; their Chief
In wonder caught the Prince’s hand, and said:
‘If Gods descend to guide thee in thy youth,
I well may hope thy manhood brave and strong.
This was no other of the Olympian Gods
But She, the gatherer of all spoil in war,
Zeus’ Child, Tritogeneia, who of old
Honoured thy father of all Argives most.
Vouchsafe to me thy favour, gracious Queen!
And to my children and my wife revered
Grant honour! To thine altar so I vow
A steer, broad-fronted, and untamed, sleek-skinn’d,
Never by man submitted to a yoke ;
This will I offer, and with gilded horns.”
He ceased; Athené hearkened to his prayer.

Then the old Chieftain of Gerené rose
Leading his sons and kith and kin the way
Into his far-famed palace. Entering all
They ranged them on the settles and the thrones
In order due ; for whom the old man mixed
A bowl! of wine sweet-savour’d from a jar
Whereof a matron now unstrung the lid
After eleven full years; and, from the bowl
Shedding libations, many a prayer he made
To Her, the virgin Child of Zeus supreme.

Thereafter, to their hearts’ desire they drank
And to their several quarters went to rest.
But agéd Nestor bade Telemachus,
Divine Odysseus’ well-belovéd son,
Recline him in the pillar’d corridor.
Pisistratus, the prince and spearman good,
The only son unmarried of the house,
Slept next him; but within a deep recess
NESTOR ON THE FOLLOWING DAY 48

Of the high hal! lay Nestor, where the queen, BOOK III.
His wife, had placed the bed and strewn the couch. 402—435.

With the first rise of rosy-finger’'d Dawn
The old man rose, and going forth took seat
On the smooth polished stones that stood before
His high-built gates, white, glistening as with oil ;
Neleus the chief for wisdom peer to’ Gods
Once sate thereon, but yielding to his fate
Had pass’d to Hades; Nestor now in turn
Sate there, a bulwark of Achaia’s race,
Sceptre in hand, and round him all his sons
Were gathered, Echephron, and Stratius,
Perseus, Aretus, and brave Thrasymed,
Sixth unto whom came young Pisistratus.
Godlike Telemachus was led by these,
The last, and at their father’s side was set.
Then thus Gerené’s chief began address:
““With speed, dear children, my desire fulfil.
So, first of all endeavours, may I win
The favour of Athené, who appeared
Before me at Poseidon’s sumptuous feast.
Let one go out afield to fetch a steer
And speed it hither; let the cowherd haste.
To the black galley of Telemachus
Another go, and bring his comrades all,
Save only two left there; and let a third
The goldsmith call, Laérces, to adorn
With overlay of gold the victim’s horns.
The rest remain together on this spot,
To bid the handmaids of the house prepare
Within the palace a great feast, and bring
Fagots, and seats, and water sparkling-pure.”
He ceased; they turned them busy to his hests.
Anon the ox came, hasted from the fields ;
From the swift well-trimm’d bark came all the crew
Of the great-hearted Prince Telemachus;
The smith came also, holding in his hands
The brazen implements that crown his craft,
The hammer and anvil and the well-made tongs,
He used to handle when he fashioned gold ;
And her own self Athene came to see
BOOK III,
436—465,

44 SENDS TELEMACHUS WITH HIS SON

The holy sacrifices, face to face.

Then the old warrior Nestor gave the gold;
Wherewith the craftsman overlaid the horns
Curiously, that the Goddess might behold
With joy so rare an offering. By the horns
Fair Echephron and Stratius haled the ox;
Aretus from a chamber came and brought
Water within a bowl emboss’d with flowers,
But in the left hand held the grains of corn
Heaped in a basket; warlike Thrasymed,
Sharp axe in hand, to hew the bullock down
Stood ready; and the laver for the blood
Was held by Perseus. Then the agéd Chief
Himself with holy water and with grain
Began the ritual; and, beginning so,

And casting on the fire the firstfruit hairs
Shorn from the head, implored Athené’s grace.

After the prayer was ended and the grain
Was thrown upon the victim, Thrasymed
Took stand hard by, and drave his axe; it clove
The tendons of the neck and loosed away
The steer’s whole strength; the women of the house,
The wives of Nestor’s sons, his daughters fair,
And She, the elder child of Klymenus,
Eurydice, his queen—all moaned around.
But soon from off our broad-way’d earth the ox
Was lifted up again, and through the throat
Pisistratus then stabb’d it. When the blood
Had gushed away and life had left the frame,
They quick dissever’d all, and first cut off
The thighs, as is ordain’d, enwrapped them up
In fat of double fold, and laid thereon
Raw pieces of the flesh. These the Chief burned
Upon the fagots, pouring ruddy wine
In free libation o’er them; at his side
Stood youths with five-prong’d forks adjusting all.
The entrails tasted, and the thighs consumed,
The other parts they sliced, and pierced with spits,
And roasted, holding to the fire the spits.

Meantime the youngest daughter of the king,
A TWO-DAYS’ JOURNEY TO SPARTA  § 45

Fair Polycasta, laved Telemachus. BOOK III.
When she had laved and anointed him with oil 466—497.
And cast a tunic o’er him and rich cloak,
Like an Immortal, issuing from the bath
He thence to Nestor shepherd of the realm
Moved near and took his seat.
When they had dressed
Their meats and drawn them from the fire, they ate
All seated, served by goodly men, who watched
Amongst them, pouring wine in golden cups.

Not till desire had passed of food and drink,
Nestor, Gerené’s Hero, thus began:
‘Children, now hasten for Telemachus
To lead our sleek-skinn’d horses to the car,
And yoke them, that he hence’ may take his way.”
He spake, and they with blithe obedience heard,
And quickly harnessed to the car the steeds.
Then in the car the matron of the house
Put corn and wine and delicate viands, such
As Zeus-born Kings do eat. Telemachus
To the fair chariot mounted, at his side
Pisistratus, Nestor’s most princely son ;
Who sate beside him, took the reins in hand,
And thonged the horses. Nothing loth, they flew
Out to the plain, and left steep Pylos’ walls.
And the dividing yoke was shaken all that day.

The Sun went down, and all the paths grew dusk,
When to the house of Diocles they came
In Pherze—Diocles the son of brave
Orsilochus, and he of Alpheus child.
They rested there the night; and Diocles
All hospitable fare before them set.

With the first birth of rosy-finger’d Dawn
They yoked the horses to the dzedal car
And from the porch and sounding corridor
Pricked them again. They galloped, nothing loth,
Out into the cornbearing fields, and sped
Straight onward there, unslackening, till once more
The Sun went down, and all the paths grew dusk.
BOOK Iv.
1—24,

46 PRESIDING AT A MARRIAGE

ODYSSEY IV.

To Lacedemon’s gully-cloven vale
They came and drave to Menelaus’ house.
Him they found there presiding at a feast
For his dear daughter’s wedding and his son’s,
In his great palace, girt with many friends.
Her he was sending to the son betrothed
Of far-renown’d Achilles, as in Troy
He erst had plighted her and pledged his faith ;
Thereto the Gods now gave the espousals due.
With car and horses therefore on her way
Her he was speeding to the famous town
Of Myrmidonia where her spouse was king.
But out from Sparta he was bringing home
Alector’s daughter for his son, his last
Begotten, Megapenthes, brave in arms,
But of a handmaid to his father born.
To Helen gave the Gods no other child
After the first she bore, Hermioné,
Not less than golden Aphrodité fair.

In royal Menelaus’ rich abode
His kindred and the townsfolk round about
At ease were feasting ; whilst a bard divine
Sang to his lyre; and as he led the strain
Two tumblers in their midst went whirling round.

Telemachus and noble Nestor’s son
Now with the horses in the mansion’s porch
Expectant stood: and Eteoneus first
(Deftest retainer of the noble King,
The steward of his household) at the door
Beheld them and returning through the hall
MENELAUS GIVES THEM WELCOME = 47

Straight bare the tidings to his lord the King ; BOOK Iv.

Beside whom taking stand he spoke and said : 25—64.
“ Zeus-nurtured Menelaus! Certain men,

Two strangers, who have just arrived, appear

Like men who have their birth from mighty Zeus.

Instruct me therefore ; shall we straight unloose

Their steeds, or send them elsewhere on, to go

And find their welcome wheresoe’er they may?”
Much-moved, the fair-hair’d Hero thus returned:

“« Boethous’ son, Eteoneus! Heretofore

Not foolish, now thou speakest like a child.

Oft did we eat of hospitable fare

In others’ houses, ere we won our way

To refuge here—if only Zeus may grant

Refuge at all from ills in time to come!

Unloose their car; and bring them to our feast.”
He spoke ; the other hasted through the hall,

Calling yet more retainers after him.

They loosed the sweating horses from the yoke

And made them to the mangers fast, and threw

Sweet pulse before them with white barley mixed,

But propped and leaned the car against the wall

That fronted bright the sun, then led their guests

Into the heaven-like mansion. At the sight

Of the King’s palace in amaze these passed ;

For through great Menelaus’ high-roof’d house

There was a radiance as of sun or moon.

When with the sight their eyes were feasted full,

Into the marble baths they went, and bathed.

Bathed and anointed there with olive oil

By handmaids, and with tunics and soft cloaks

About them cast, they issued forth, and went

To their thrones set by Menelaus’ side.

To whom in welcome spake the fair-hair’d King:
“Take ye, and with good appetite, this food ;
And, after ye have made repast, we then
Will ask you of what race ye boast to be.
Not dead to fame, I trow, your fathers’ names ;
But sceptred rather and Zeus-nurtured Kings
I hold them ; meaner men have no such sons.”
BOOK Iv,
65—97.

48 EXPLAINS HIS OWN MAGNIFICENCE

He spoke, and in his fingers took and placed
Before them the fat portions from the loins
Of the roast ox—his own especial share.
They to the dainties laid before them turn’d ;
Till, when desire had passed of drink and meat,
Leaning towards Nestor’s son, Telemachus,
With head bent nigh lest others hear him, said:
“Dear Son of Nestor, cherish’d in my heart!
Markst thou how through these echoing halls the brass
Flashes? And amber, ivory, and gold,
And silver, everywhere! The Olympian halls
Of Zeus were such as these. What priceless things,
How various! Yea, I marvel as I gaze.”
The fair-haired Hero knew him in his heart
So speaking, and addressed these wingéd words :
“No mortal man, dear children, vies with Zeus:
Mansions eternal, infinite wealth, are his.
Of men perchance some other may in wealth
Compete with me; perchance I have no peer ;
Sorely I suffer’d, beaten far and wide,
Ere in the eighth year I could bring it home.
On Cyprus, on Pheenicia, on the banks
Of Egypt, I alighted; and I reached
The Ethiopians, and the settlement
Of Sidon, and the far Erembian race,
And Libya, where the lambs with sprouting horns
Are dropp’d, and in one year the flocks breed thrice ;

‘So that no Libyan, lord or underling,

Lacks ever curds, or meat, or delicate milk,
But the full udders yield the whole year long.
Yet, whilst I so was wandering far away

And gathering this great substance, a strange hand
Murdered my brother—secret, unawares,
Helped by the treachery of his own fell wife!
Wherefore in all my lordship and my wealth

I have no joy at all, but rather think

How, while I suffer’d such distress abroad

(As from your fathers whosoe’er they be

Ye surely must have heard), I left to waste
My old house, and my ancient treasures there !
Of those the third part now would well suffice
LAMENTS THE LOSS OF ODYSSEUS = 49

For me to dwell at ease, if still the men BOOK Iv.

Were living, who for my behalf then died 98—130.

In Troy’s rich fields from Argos’ pastures far.

And oft, in lamentation for them all,

Desolate in my house | sit, at times

Relieving my sad heart with tears, and then

Ceasing—soon comes satiety of tears.

Howbeit, though mourning for them all, so much

For all I mourn not, as for one, of whom

The fond remembrance makes my sleep and food

Loathsome. No other of the Achaian host

Toiled as Odysseus toiled, or took such tasks

Upon him. Heavy on his head must lie

Trouble, and on me grief endless, for how long

His absence! We know nothing, be he dead

Or living still. The old Laértes most

Must mourn him, and his pure deep-hearted wife

Penelope, and young Telemachus

Whom in his house he left a new-born babe.”
He spake, but in the other’s heart awoke

Yearning of lamentation for his sire.

He dashed, on hearing first Odysseus’ name,

A tear from off his eyelids to the ground,

And raised the purple mantle to his eyes

With either hand; whom Menelaus marked

And pondered and considered—should he leave

The son to quiet memory of the sire,

Or should he question him and tell him all?

While in his mind he still revolv’d this doubt,
Like unto golden-arrow’d Artemis
Forth from her fragrant chamber Helen came.
Adrasta placed for her a carven couch,
Alcippe brought a cushion of soft-wool,
And Phylo bare a basket woven fine
Of silver, fair Acandra’s gift, the queen
Of Polybus who ruled Egyptian Thebes,
Where are the greatest treasures under heaven.
He gave to Menelaus tripods two,
Ten golden talents, and two silver baths ;
While lovely gifts besides his wife brought out

4
50 HELEN RECOGNISES TELEMACHUS

Book Iv. For Helen; first a distaff all of gold

131-163. She gave, and next this basket, made on wheels,
All silver, but its lips were edged with gold.
And this the handmaid Phylo bare, and placed
Near Helen, laden full of broider’d work,
With distaff stretch’d across it, whereupon
Was violet-clouded wool. The Queen soon took
Seat on the couch with footstool to her feet,
And thus inquiring of her husband said:

“ Zeus-nurtured Menelaus! Know we aught
Of these our strangers, who they boast to be?
Should I dissemble, or outspoken say,
Unfearing, what the heart within me bids?

For neither man nor woman have I seen
In likeness such—(I marvel while I gaze)
As this youth must be to Telemachus
The son of great Odysseus, whom of old
His father left an infant in the house,
When for my shaméd sake the Achaian host
To fiery battle came beneath Troy-wall.”
And fair-haired Menelaus answered thus:
“ My own conjecture is as thine, my wife:
Such were the hero’s hands, his feet, and such
The flashes of his eyes—his head and hair.
Yea, I just now was calling to my mind
And telling of Odysseus, what distress
And troubles for my sake he laboured through ;
And straight the tear dropped bitter from his lids,
And with his purple cloak he screened his eyes.”

Then Nestor’s son Pisistratus spake forth:

“ Zeus-nurtured Menelaus, Atreus’ child,
Chieftain of nations! In all verity

This youth is, as thou sayest, Odysseus’ son.
But he still keeps his counsel, being abash’d
In this first visit to thy house to make

A vent of words upon thee, unto whom,
Like to a God, we listened with delight.
Gerené’s Chieftain Nestor sent me too

To follow with him as his guide to thee,
Whom he was fain to visit, that perchance
Thou mightst advise him some wise act or word.
BY HIS LIKENESS TO HIS FATHER 51

The son is wrong’d whose father is remote, BOOK Iv.
Wrong’d in his house, if others help him not ; 164—196.
And this now happens to Telemachus.

His father long hath vanished; nor at hand

Are any to curb evil in his town.”

And fair-hair’d Menelaus thus replied:

“Can this thing be? Then truly to my house
The son hath come of one I dearly loved,

Who for my cause endured exceeding toil ;

Of whom I ever said that when he came

More than all others of the Argive host

Him I should cherish—if wide-seeing Zeus
Vouchsafed us both return across the sea.

I would have given him a city for his home,
Built him a house, and brought from Ithaca
Himself, his people, all his wealth, and child,
Into some neighbouring township ruled by me,
Which I had emptied quite for his dear sake.
So had our lives been blended in the land;

Nor aught had e’er divided us, or torn

Our loves asunder or our mutual joys,

Till the black cloud of death enwrapped us round.
This bliss, I trow, was grudged us by the Gods;
Else had they ne’er bereft him of return,

Him only of us all—in wretched plight!”

He spoke, and quickened in their hearts who heard
Yearning of tears: together all they wept,
Argeian Helen, child of mighty Zeus,

And Menelaus, and Telemachus ;
Nor tearless were the eyes of Nestor’s son,
Since he bethought him of Antilochus,

Whom the bright son of radiant Morning slew.
Remembering him, these wingéd words he spake:
‘Ofttimes, when we at home together talked

Of thee, Atrides, agéd Nestor then

Would say thou wast in wisdom more than man.
Hear me, if what I say be in our power.

From tears I find no comfort, at this time

Of evening meal; the early morn will come,
Grief's better season. Think not that I speak
As grudging lamentation to the dead:
BOOK Iv.
197—222,

52 POURS AN OPIATE INTO THEIR WINE

Amongst the unhappy race of mortal men
The last-remaining honour we can pay
Is by these streaming cheeks and tresses shorn.
And I too weep a brother dead, perchance
Well known to thee, of ali the Argive host
Not least esteemed; whom never I beheld
Nor met; but, if report hath spoken him true,
Antilochus exceeded other men,
In speed of foot excelled them, and in fight.”

And fair-haired Menelaus made reply :
“Dear Youth, thou speakest what might well beseem
A wise man, older far, to speak or do;
Wise speech belongs to thee, as being the son
Of such a father. Easy to be known
That chieftain’s generation, on whose thread
Of earthly life Kroneion Zeus enweaves
A blessing in his marriage and his seed.*
To Nestor thus hath Zeus vouchsafed to wax
A long life through in affluence at his hearth,
With valiant and true-hearted sons engirt.
This burst of weeping, therefore, as thou sayest,
We will awhile put by; refresh ourselves
With food; let water on our hands be pour’d;
And till to-morrow further talk suspend.”

He spoke; a deft retainer of the house
Asphalion pour’d pure water on their hands,
And to their dainty fare they turn’d again.

Then Argive Helen, child of Zeus divine,
Another service to her guests devised.
Into the wine from which they drank she threw
A drug, to drown all grief, disvenom gall,
And make the heart forgetful of all ill.
Whoso might drink it mingled in his cup,

*youeovTl te yewouevw te. The ordinary interpretation “at his
marriage and at his birth ” must be accepted if the present tense in this
phrase cannot bear the same meaning as the aorist -yervduny often does.
But it involves a violent hystero-proton which is hardly covered by the
only parallel adduced, tpdpev 48 éyevovro = our “bred and born”.
Both the Scholiast and Buttmann support the rendering given in the

text.
TELLS OF ODYSSEUS DISGUISED 53

That day adown his cheek no tear would fall,

Not though his father or dear mother died,

Not though a son or brother by the sword

Before his eyes were slaughter’d! Such the drugs,

So soothing, of such healing potency,

Possessed by Helen, which the wife of Thon

The Egyptian Polydamna gave to her

In Egypt, where the fruitful earth yields herbs

Most plenteous—many, intermix’d in growth,

Precious to man, but others full of bane;

Where too in medicine every man excels

The world elsewhere; from Pzon is their birth.

When she had thrown this in and bidden fresh wine

Be pour’d thereon, she thus renewed address:
“ Zeus-nurtured Menelaus, child renowned

Of Atreus! These our guests are sons indeed

Of noble fathers; yet Zeus oft bestows

Now on one house his weal or woe, and then

Turneth to others; He is lord supreme.

Continue, resting in this hall, your feast ;

Yet be content to converse, I will speak

What well befits the occasion. All the feats

Which long-enduring Odyseus performed

I neither tell nor name. But what a deed

Was that—how brave !—which by his strength of hand

He durst adventure and achieve in Troy,

Where ye the Achaians were in sore distress.

On his own self laying unseemly stripes,

With sorry rags about his shoulders thrown,

In likeness of a household-slave, he crept

Into the broad-way'd city of his foes.

Like a poor mendicant he made himself,

Guised to be such as in the Achaian fleet

He, certés, never showed. In that disguise

He won his entry to the Trojan town.

The unwitting Trojan guards gave no alarm;

I only knew him to be what he was

And question’d, but he shunned me by some guile;

Till, after I had bathed him, and with oil

Anointed, and thrown raiment round his limbs,

And sworn an oath, I never would betray

BOOK Iv. !
223—254. |
BOOK Iv,
255—286.

54 AND THE TALE OF THE WOODEN HORSE

Odysseus to the Trojans, till himself

Had to the arrowy ships and camp returned—

Then he reveal’d to me the Achaian plot.

Many the Trojans with a sharp-edged sword

(My gift) he slaughter’d, ere he made his way

Safe to the camp, and carried back withal

Much knowledge of our town. The women of Troy

Wailed loud in lamentation ; but my heart

Rejoiced within me: for my soul was set

On mine old home, and ever I bewailed

The accurséd work of Aphrodite, when

She brought me from mine own dear native land,

To quit my child, my marriage-bed, and him,

My husband—nothing wanting, body or mind!”
And fair-haired Menelaus made reply:

“Thy words, dear wife, are dutiful and true.

Many the men, the heroes, of whose minds

And wisdom I have had experience long ;

And I have travelled many lands; but ne’er

Have these mine eyes beheld a man, the peer

Of what the brave heart of Odysseus was.

And what a deed it was—how brave !—which he

Adventured and by strength of hand achieved

Within the wooden horse! Wherein we all

The noblest of the Argive host were couch’d,

Bearing fell havoc and her doom to Troy.

Thou camést thither, Helen; yea, some God

Whose will was to exalt the Trojan fame,

Commanded thy loth feet; Deiphobus,

The godlike son of Priam, came with thee.

And thrice about our hollow ambuscade

(Feeling it with thy hands) thou passing round

Call’dst on the Danaan Chieftains each by name,

Making thy voice like our own Argive wives.

I, and divine Odysseus, and the son

Of Tydeus, were the midmost: Diomed

And I would then have sallied leaping forth

And charged, or else have answered from within ;

But Odyseus restrained and held us back,

For all our ardour. To his word the rest

Obedient rested silent; Anticlus
ANSWERING TELEMACHUS NEXT DAY 55

Alone was on the point to make reply, BOOK Iv.
When on his jaws Odysseus with strong hands 287—317.
Pressed, ruthless—saving so Achaia’s chiefs—
And held them fast, till Pallas led thee back.”

To whom the sage young prince Telemachus:
« Zeus-nurtured Menelaus, Atreus’ Child,
Chieftain of nations! ’Tis the greater pain,
That, though his heart was strong and staunch as steel,
All this should not have ’vailed to fend away
Piteous destruction from him. Now arise;
And let us to our beds to lay us down
And take sweet slumber to our wearied eyes.”

He spoke; Argeian Helen bade the maids
Put couches in the portico, and strew
Fine purple quilts thereon, above them spread
Soft rugs, and lay beside them woollen cloaks
To wrap them round withal. To her behest
The handmaids hasted, torches in their hands,
And spread two couches whereunto the guests
Were guided by a herald. So the two,
Telemachus and Nestor’s noble son,
Laid them to slumber in the corridor;
But in a chamber of the house withdrawn
Slept Menelaus, and by his side the queen
Divine of women, long-robed Helen, lay.

With the first rise of rosy-fingered Dawn
Great Menelaus springing off his couch
Donn’d raiment fresh, around him slung a sword,
Bound broidered sandals to his glistening feet,
And left the room, in aspect like a God.
Soon seated by Telemachus he said:

“What need hath brought thee hither, fair young Prince,
Across the sea’s broad shoulders to this town
Of sacred Lacedemon? On concern
Of State, or private matter? Tell me true.”

To whom Telemachus return’d reply:
“ Zeus-nurtured Menelaus, Atreus’ Child,
Chieftain of nations! I have come to learn
If rumour of my father anywhere
Thou haply mayst have heard and now wilt tell ;
BOOK Iv.
318—349,

56 MENELAUS TELLS HIM THE STORY

For my whole house is being consumed ; the fruits

Of many a harvest wasted; and my halls

Crowded with men who are mine enemies,

Who slaughter day by day my sheep in flocks,

In herds my slow-paced oxen, and would woo

My mother by brute force against her will.

For this I come, and at thy knees entreat,

If thou art willing of his piteous doom

To tell me aught that haply thou hast seen

Thyself or from some storm-tost mariner heard.

In veriest truth Odysseus’ mother bare

Her son to more than mortal sorrows doomed !

Neither through feeling for his son, nor aught

Soften for pity; but inform me true,

How thou hast e’er encounter’d sight of him.

Yea, if Odysseus ever did for thee

Aught that he promised either in word or deed

Amongst that Trojan people where ye all

Suffer’d so long together—for his sake,

By him my noble father I implore,

Now bear this in remembrance, tell me true!”
To whom, much-moved, the fair-haired Hero thus:

“ Strange, strange, in truth! Of that heroic man

These veriest dastards would usurp the bed!

But as it happens if a hind has laid

Her unwean’d nurslings in a lion’s lair,

Through glades and bosky dells she wanders on,

Grazing ; but he returning to his den

Brings down on both her fawns a piteous death ;

Such death Odysseus shall on these bring down.

But—Pheebus, Pallas, and our Father Zeus!

1 would that ’mid their concourse he might show

Such as he was when first in Lesbos’ town

He rose to wrestle for a challenge wroth

With Philomela’s son, and threw him down

Heavily—to the joy of all who saw—

Ah, might he in that glory reappear,

Sudden their deaths, bitter their wooings, then!

To these thy prayers and questions | will make

No wayward answer, neither use deceit,

But tell without concealment all to me
OF EIDOTHEA AND OF THE TRICK — 57

By the old Soothsayer of the sea revealed. BOOK IV.
350—382.
“‘ How fain soever to return to home
I was detain’d in Egypt by the Gods;
For that of perfect offerings I had failed,
And they desire remembrance of their hests.
A certain island lies upon the deep
Right in the face of Egypt, Pharos named,
At just such distance as in one full day
A hollow ship may traverse when the breeze
Blows o’er the sea’s broad shoulders in its wake.
A harbour-bay is there, where galleys oft
Touch for fresh water, and are launched again.
And there the Gods detained me twenty days.
No breath of breeze upon the waters rose
Nor any gale to waft a galley forth
Across the sea’s broad billows. All our stores
Had perished and all spirit from out my men,
Had not a Goddess taken pity upon me
And saved me, ev’n the Nymph Eidothea, child
Of Proteus, the old Ruler of the main.
In her the heart was for my trouble moved ;
She met me as I wandered all apart
Without a comrade: separately we searched
The island round about, or fished with hooks
For food wherewith to stay our hunger’s pinch.
Near me She took her station, and began:
‘Art thou a simple fool, of mind distraught,
O stranger, or quite reckless, finding joy
In sorrow, that this long while thou remainst
Closed in an island where no help is nigh,
Whilst all thy comrades’ courage dwindles fast ?
She ended; I in answer thus replied:
‘Whoever of the heavenly race thou be,
I answer freely that J here remain
Against my will imprisoned. ’Tis most sure,
I have sinned grievously against the Gods.
Yet (for the Gods know all things) tell me, who
Now fetters and restrained me on my way ;
How o’er the sea may I return to home?’
I ended, and the heavenly Nymph replied ;
BOOK Iv.
383—415.

58 PLAYED UPON PROTEUS UNDER

‘Stranger, I tell thee truly all I know.
The old immortal Soothsayer of the main,
Proteus of Egypt, haunts these parts, and He
Being subject to Poseidon knows the depths
Of ocean far and near; and mortal men
Name him the father who begat me erst.
Perchance thou couldst entrap him in a snare,
Who then to thee thy voyage might reveal,
The measures of thy path—and thy return,
How thou mayst go across the sea to home.
And likewise, if such knowledge thou would have,
O noble chieftain, he could tell what good,
What ill, hath happen’d in thy house, whilst thou
Hast fared so long and hardly far abroad.’

She ended; I in answer thus replied:
‘ Advise me too the ambush wherewithal
To trap this ancient Prophet of the sea ;
Lest he destroy me first or in his heart
Foreknow my coming: scarce by any pains
A God is vanquish’d of a mortal man.’

I spoke; and straight the heavenly Nymph replied:
‘Stranger, I tell thee truly what I know.
When to mid heaven the sun hath mounted high,
The old immortal Soothsayer of the sea
Comes with a blast of Zephyr from the deep
Under a darkling ripple, and lies down
To bask him in the hollow caves ashore.
And round him issuing from the hoary waves,
Fishy, rank-scented with the bitter brine,
Slumbers fair Alosydna’s finny brood,
A flock of seals. Thither at break of dawn
I will conduct thee. Be it thine to choose
Three comrades, the best men aboard thy ships,
And I will there ensconce you all arow.
Let me instruct thee too his arts malign.
He first will count, and overlook, his seals:
When on his fingers he has reckoned up
And seen them present, he will lay him down,
Like shepherd ’mid the fleeces of his flock,
Right in their midst ; whom when ye so behold
Set your whole hearts to strong endeavouring,
THE DISGUISE OF THE SEALS 59

Though he desire and struggle to escape, BOOK IV.
To hold him there. He will become all shapes, 416—444,
So struggling—things that creep upon the ground,
Or water, or blazing fire; but ye the while
Hold the more staunchly, press with stronger hand ;
Till, when he questions thee by words himself,
In the same shape as whom ye saw reclined,
Then from all force refrain, and set him free;
And ask of him, O Hero, who of Gods
Is wroth against thee, and of thy return,
How thou mayst go across the sea to home.’
She spoke, and vanished, plunging in the waves.

“ But I went back to where upon the sands

My galleys stood, and as I went my heart

Was darken’d with my trouble. When I reached
The ships and sea, we took the evening meal

Till night’s ambrosial hour, and laid=us down

To slumber on the shingle. Dawn had risen
First-born of light, with rosy fingers warm,
When back along the wide-way’d Ocean’s strand
I pass’d again and took the comrades three

In whom I trusted most for all emprise.

“Into the sea’s broad bosom She meantime
Had gone and thence had brought four seal-skins forth ;
And all the four were newly stripped, and fresh ;
So deep the wile against her father planned.

In the sea-sands she then scooped out our beds,
And sate awaiting us. Anon we came

And in a line she laid us and on each

Threw a seal’s skin-—an ambush foul—for foul
The torture of the deadly stench that rose
From out those children of the sea, the seals!
Who for a bedfellow * of his own free will
Would take a bestial creature of the brine?
Yet she preserved us—yea, and thence devised

* The parallel with Shakspeare in Tempest, Act II., Scene 2, is very
remarkable. Trinculo when sheltering himself under Caliban says:
‘A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell—not
of the newest . . . misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows, ”
BOOK Iv.
445—476,

60 BY WHICH IN SPITE OF SORCERY

Our more advantage. Unto each she brought
Ambrosia of exceeding fragance sweet,
The which, beneath our nostrils put, destroyed
The sea-beast’s stench. So we with patient hearts
Waited the morning through. Anon the seals
Flocked upwards from the sea and couched them down
In order all along the breakers’ edge,
And at mid-day the aged Seer arose
Likewise, and found his goodly seals, and went
Over them all, and numbered their array.
Amongst them first he counted us, nor dreamed
Of any guile, and then lay down to rest.
With a shout we rushed upon him, threw our arms
Round him, and held; nor of his sorceries
Proved he forgetful, but plied every wile ;
Into a full-maned lion first he changed,
A dragon next, a panther, and huge boar ;
And running water he became, and then
A lofty-spreading tree ; but we held on,
Staunch and enduring, till the agéd Sprite,
For all his arts malignant, now distressed,
Of me inquiring thus began and said:
‘What God in counsel with thee hath conspired
That thou, O Atreus’ Son, in ambush laid
Shouldst trap me thus? What instant need is thine ?’
He spoke, and I in answer thus replied:
‘Most ancient Seer, thou knowest; and wherefore speak
To turn me from my purpose? In this isle
I am imprisoned, and can find no help,
Till ev’n the heart within me dwindles fast.
Tell therefore (to the Gods all things are known),
Inform me truly, who of Heavenly Powers
So fetters and hath checked me from my path;
How o’er the seas may | return to home.’
I spoke, and he in answer gave reply:
‘Thou shouldst have made to Zeus and other Gods
Fair offerings due, or ever thou embarked,
If with all speed across the wine-hued deep
Thou wouldst have sailed and gained thy fatherland.
For now 'tis fated thou wilt ne’er behold
Thy friends again or reach thy well-built home,
HE LEARNED THE DOOM OF AJAX 61

Ere to the waters of the Zeus-fallen Nile BOOK Iv.
In Egypt thou hast made a voyage back, 477509.
And given thy perfect offerings to the Gods.
Thence only will they grant thee thy desire.’

He ceased; the dear heart in my breast was broke,
For that he bade me o’er the cloud-streak’d main
To Egypt back—a long way, and a hard.
Nathless in answer I returned these words:

‘As thou, O Seer, hast bidden me, so I do.

But tell me also this, and truly speak.

Did all the Achaians, whom we left at Troy
When Nestor thence and I together sailed,

Come home without misfortune? Or, perchance,
Did any perish by unlook’d-for death

Whether aboard his galley, or in the arms

Of his own friends, after the war was done ?’

I spoke, and he in answer thus returned:
‘Wherefore, Atrides, wouldst thou ask these things ?
It boots thee nothing thus to learn my lore.
When thou hast heard, I trow thou wilt not long
Contain thy weeping. Many were they, who fell
In battle slain and left upon the field,

Of whom I need not tell thee—thou wast there.
But of the Achaian chieftains in return

Have died two only, though one other still

Is somewhere in broad ocean’s midst detained.
Ajax was overwhelmed amid the fleet ;

Whom great Poseidon rescued first, albeit

He drave him very nigh the giant rocks

Of Gyre. Still his fate had been escaped
(For all Athene’s ancient enmity),

Had he not utter’d from his lips a vaunt
Outrageous, impious, and most fatally sinned
Saying that in the teeth of Gods’ despite

He would escape the gaping Ocean’s gulfs.
Poseidon heard him vaunting thus, and straight
Taking his trident in his mighty hands

Drave at the rock of Gyre, sundering it;

And one part rested, but a fragment huge

Fell in the deep and brought destruction first
On Ajax sitting thereupon, and borne
BOOK IV.
510—541.

62 HIS BROTHER’S DEATH, OF ODYSSEUS

Adown the infinite billowy sea therewith!
So with the salt sea-water choked he died.
Such fate thy brother shunned and safely escaped
Aboard his hollow galleys by the grace
Of royal Here. But, when now at point
To make the steep Maleian cape, a storm
Suddenly drave him, mourning much his lot,
Across the ocean to the promontory
Whereon Thyestes dwelt of old, and now
Thyestes’ son ABgisthus. Thence at last
Return appeared all painless, thence the Gods
Gave a fair breeze again, and home they came.
On to his native shore in joy he leapt
And clasp’d and kissed the soil, while from his eyes
The tears gushed warm, so welcome was the land.
But from a tower a spy had marked him, placed
There by 2gisthus with a foul intent,
Kept by 2gisthus there a whole year long,
Two golden talents promised as his fee,
Lest haply the great Hero pass unseen
And learn his kingdom’s plight, and for revenge
Bring to remembrance all his olden strength.
To the King’s house this scout the tidings took ;
And straight A2gisthus laid his stratagem.
He chose and set in ambush twenty men
The strongest of his town, and opposite
Bade a great banquet be prepared, and went
Himself with horses and with chariots forth
To Agamemnon, shepherd of the host,
To invite him thither—for his foul intent.
And home he brought him, weeting not the death
There lying; for he slew him after feast,
As at a manger one might slay an ox!
Nor was a single man in either’s troop
Left living ; all fell slaughtered in those halls.’

He ceased ; but my dear heart was broken quite ;
I sate me down upon the sands and wept ;
Nor was the soul within me fain to live
Longer, or see the sunshine any more ;
Till, when my tears and grovellings had sufficed,
AND OF HIS OWN FUTURE FATE 63

The ancient Soothsayer of the sea resumed: BOOK Iv.

‘Atrides, weep no longer thus, in mood 542—577.
So stubborn, for no cure is found therein.

Seek rather how to gain thy fatherland

With the best speed thou mayst, perchance to find
Him living still; or, if Orestes brave

May have forestalled thee in the slaying of him,
Yet for his burial thou mightst reach in time.’

He spoke ; the heart and courage in my breast
Despite my grief were somewhat healed thereby,
And answering I returned these wingéd words:

‘These two indeed I know; but name the third,
Dead or alive, in ocean’s midst detained ;

Though it be sorrow to hear, I fain would hear.’

I spoke ; and he in answer thus replied:
‘Laértes’ Son, who dwelt in Ithaca,
Him grieving on an island | beheld,
Where in her caves Calypso held him loth.
Thence to his fatherland he cannot go,
Since he hath neither oaréd ships, nor crews,
To waft him o’er the sea’s broad shoulders home.
For thine own self, Zeus-nurtured Chief, the Gods
Doom not a death by mortals’ destiny
In deep horse-pasturing Argos, but aloof
Shall bear thee to the uttermost parts of earth
Into the Fields Elysian ; there the life
To man most gracious ; neither rain, nor snow,
Nor tempest ; but from ocean floating up
Sweet Zephyr breathes refreshingly to soothe
The dwellers there: and this thy lot, because
Helen is thine, and thou art son to Zeus.’

He spoke, and vanished, plunging in the waves.

“ But with my godlike comrades I returned

Back to my ships, and as I went my heart

Was darkened with my trouble. When we reached
The ships and sea, we took the evening meal

Till night’s ambrosial hour, and laid us down

To slumber on the shingle. Dawn arose,
First-born of light, with rosy fingers warm,

When to the sacred deep we first drew down
BOOK Iv.
578—606.

64 LAST HE OFFERS TO HIS GUEST

Our even-builded barks and set up masts

And sails thereon and went aboard and ranged
Ourselves upon the benches; so took seat

In line, and smote the billows with our oars.
Back to the region of the Zeus-fallen Nile

In Egypt I made way, there moored my ships,
And made my perfect offerings to the Gods.
When I had so allayed the Immortals’ wrath,

I heaped the cairn to Agamemnon due,

My brother, that his fame should never die.
When all these things were done, I started home,
And the Gods gave a favouring breeze, which soon
Wafted me hither to my fatherland.

“Such is my tale. But now abide with me,
Till an eleventh or a twelfth day come;
Then I will send thee back in state, and give
Gifts goodly—three brave horses and a car
Of polish bright ; and, further, I will give
A lovely cup, that thou therefrom mayst pour
Hereafter thy libations to the Gods,
And keep me in remembrance all thy days.”
To whom Telemachus returned reply:
‘Nay, Atreus’ Son, delay me now no more.
A whole year through I well could bear to sit
Here with thee, nor would any yearning come
For home or parents ; boundless the delight
I find in hearkening to thy words and voice.
Howbeit I know already for my sake
In sacred Pylos my companions’ hearts
Are troubled; yet thou still detainst me here.
And let what gift soever thou bestowst
Be such as may lie treasured in my house.
Horses to Ithaca I would not take,
But rather leave them here thy own fair boast.
For thou art king of a broad level land,
Wherein much clover grows, and galingale,
Much corn, and beans, and barley spreading wide:
But no like spaces are in Ithaca,
Nor meadow-land at all—goat-grazen hills,
More beautiful than pastures of the horse!
THE SUITORS DISCOVER THE ABSENCE 65

None of the islands bedded in the sea BOOK Iv.
Have spaces or broad meadows fit for steeds ; 607- 639.
And of all islands Ithaca hath least.”
He ended; valiant Menelaus smiled,
Stroked his cheek softly, and replied, and said:
“Dear Child, in speaking thus thou showst thyself
Of gentle blood, and, as I easily may,
My presents let me alter. I will give
(Of all the gifts lying treasured in my house
The choicest both for beauty and for price)
A cup wrought all of silver, but its lips
Are edged with gold. Hephzstus made it erst ;
But Sidon’s King, the Hero Phzedimus,
Produced it when his roof had sheltered me
Returning: this on thee will I bestow.”
Thus each with other these their commune held ;
Till now the feasters passed into the halls
Of the great King, some bringing sheep, and some
Wine that uplifteth the brave heart of man;
While their fair-snooded wives sent in the bread ;
And all addressed them to their festival.

Meantime in front of great Odysseus’ house
On the raised paven terrace, where they oft
Display’d them in their pride, the Suitors took
Their pastime in the sports of spear and quoit.
Antinéus and divine Eurymachus,

The leaders of their band and noblest-born,
Had taken seat, when Phronius’ son came nigh,
N6éemon, and addressed Antinous thus:

“ Know we, Antinous, aught, or not at all,
What while Telemachus intends return
From sandy Pylos? He hath gone aboard
My galley, and I need it now to cross
To wide-spaced Elis. There I have a stud
Of twelve brood-mares, with mule-colts under them,
Unyoked as yet but now to toil strong-grown ;
These I would drive, and break them in, myself.”

So spake he, and astonied all their minds.

For none had thought the prince to Pylos gone,
Old Neleus’ town, but either with the sheep
5
BOOK Iv.
640—674.

66 AND PLOT THE DEATH OF TELEMACHUS

Or with the swineherd—somewhere in the fields.
Eupeithes’ son Antinous gave reply:

“ But when hath he departed? Answer true.
Had he a crew of Ithaca’s chosen youth,
Or of the slaves and hirelings of his house ?
He might have done it so. And tell me this
Likewise, that I may know it: did he take
By force thy galley and against thy wish,
Or didst thou yield it freely to his prayer?”

To whom Néemon, Phronius’ son, replied:
“ Preely I gave it, of my own good will.
What else would others do, if such a man
With griefs dishearten’d made a like request ?
A loan’s denial were a graceless thing.
Our bravest youth have followed; and I saw
Mentor, their chief, embarking, or, may be,
A God in Mentor’s guise; for this hath moved
My wonder; yestermorn I saw again
Mentor, although for Pylos he had sailed.”

So speaking, to his father’s house he went
Indignant from amongst them, hurt at heart
Por either cause. The others stopped their sports
And sate down close together; sorely moved,
Eupeithes’ son Antinous thus began,
His black heart all surcharged with swelling wrath,
And his eyes flashing as with burning fire:

“Ye Gods! A monstrous deed of insolence
Is this same voyage of Telemachus,
The which we said he never could achieve ;
From out our numbers’ midst this veriest boy
Hath gone in our despite, and launched his ship,
And chos’n the best o’ the townsfolk for his crew!
He will become a greater mischief soon:
May Zeus destroy him ere he works us harm!
Give me a galley and a score of men
And for his passage I will lie in watch
’Twixt Ithaca and Samos, in the strait:
So may he chase his father—to the death!”

He spoke; and all applauding urged him forth,
Then rising entered great Odysseus’ house.
MEDON INFORMS PENELOPE 67

Nor long ere tidings reached Penelope BOOK IV.
Of what the Suftors mutter’d in their hearts. 675—703.
Medon the herald told her, who had heard
Their counsels, whilst he sate outside the court
And they within it wove their stratagem.

He quick to tell her through the palace passed,
And she addressed him on her threshold-stone :

“Say, Medon, why my noble Wooers thus
Have sent thee here their herald? Is’t to bid
The handmaids of divine Odysseus stay
Their other tasks to serve them at their feast ?
Ah that they never had woo’d me—never had come *
Together—and were now at their last meal!

For foul the havoc that assembled here

Ye wreak on the possessions of my son,
Wronging his noble soul, forgetting all

Your fathers in your childhood’s days wouid tell
What manner of King Odysseus was of yore ;
How, though it be the use of Heaven-born Kings
To hate men, or to favour, overmuch,

He never dealt injustice, never spoke

An evil word amongst his people—nay,

Nor bore too hardly even on violent men.

But lo your temper and unrighteous works!

No gratitude attends on kindly deed.”

And Medon sage of counsel made reply:
“T would, my Queen, this evil were thy worst.
For now a greater ill and crueller far
These Suitors meditate (the which may Zeus
Never accomplish !). They complot to kill
Telemachus as homeward he returns;
For on a voyage he hath gone, and sailed
For sacred Pylos and for Sparta’s town
If haply he may learn his father’s fate.”

He spoke; her heart and limbs together sank ;

*If Mr. Monro’s interpretation (HOMERIC GRAMMAR, p. 263) be
preferred, it may be translated—

‘‘Ah would that, from this courtship ne’er again
Assembling, they were now,” etc., etc.

But is there any necessity for thus attenuating the force of uy
before pynoredoavres when pndé is repeated before dusAnoavres, a
second participle, and not, as in the parallel quoted (Op. xi., 613),
the principal verb in the sentence ?
BOOK Iv.
704—740,

68 WHO IN HER LAMENTATIONS

Long speechlessness possessed her, and her eyes
Were filled with tears ; her sweet clear voice was stayed ;
At last she thus found words, and answering spoke:
“ But wherefore, Herald, hath my child thus gone ?
He had no need to mount the swift-going ships
That serve as horses of the sea to man
And pass the wide-spaced water. Did he wish
That ev’n his name should perish from off the world ?”
And Medon sage in counsel made reply:
“Whether some God inspired him to the search,
I know not; but perchance his own brave heart
Bade him seek tidings of his father’s fate.”
He spoke, and through the palace passed away.

But round about her came the cloud of grief,
Heart-killing, neither found she strength to move
To any seat, but on the threshold-step
Bowed down, lamenting piteously ; and all
The handmaids of the palace, old and young,
Mourned round her ; till with sobs she thus began:

“ Hear me, dear maidens! For on me the Gods
Most of all women of the present times
Have laid a weight of sorrow—in that, first,

A noble husband I have lost, most brave,

Most true, and with all manner of virtue crown’d
Amongst the Danaan chieftains ; wide his fame
Through midmost Argos and all Hellas spread.
And now have tempests snatched my only son
Ingloriously away ; nor knew I aught

Of his departure—Ah, perverse ye maids!

Ye knew it well, yet none took ever thought

To wake me from my sleep, when he went forth:
Had I but known him on this venture set,
Either for all his ardour he had stayed,

Or in this palace he had left me dead!

Now hither let some servant haste to call

My slave, old Dolius, whom my father sent

To attend me when I came and who is here

The keeper of my garden. He shall go

Straight to Laértes who will haply find

Some remedy, or get him forth and cry
IMPLORES ATHENE’S HELP 69

Against these folk desirous to destroy BOOK IV.
His and divine Odysseus’ noble seed.” 741—770.
To whom the loving nurse Euryclea:
“ Dear Lady, as thou list, in this thy house
Show me no pity, kill, or let me live:
For I confess me freely. All these things
I knew, and, whatsoe’er he wish’d, I brought,
Corn and sweet wine. But he exacted first
A mighty oath, that I would tell thee nought
Till the twelfth day, or till thyself shouldst miss
And ask his plight—lest else thou vainly weep,
Or tear thy bosom for the sudden grief.
But wash thee now with water, and round thee put
Fresh raiment, and with all thy handmaids mount
Into the upper chamber ; there invoke
Athené to thy help, the child of Zeus:
She safely from death’s clutch could bring him home.
But trouble not the old Laértes more,
Troubled enough already. Not, I trow—
Not all distasteful to the Gods in bliss
The generation of Arcesias’ house!
An heir will be forthcoming, to possess
This mansion, and these rich far-stretching fields.”’
She spoke, and in Penelope she lulled
The sorrow for awhile, and dried the tears:
Who washed her with pure water, around her put
Fresh raiment, and with all her company
Of women mounted to the upper room ;
There in a basket at the shrine she laid
Cakes of bruised meal, and on Athene call’d:
“Child of the AEgis-bearer, hear my prayer!
Goddess unfailing, oh, if in this house
Renown’d Odysseus ever made to thee
Burnt-offering of the thighs of sheep or ox,
Now bear it in remembrance, save my son,
And drive these arrogant Suitors all away!”
She ceased, in tears: the Goddess heard her prayer.

Meantime the Wooers in the darkening halls
Clamour’d, and over-proud a youth would say :
“This long-sought Queen makes us a wedding rare,
BOOK IV.
771—803.

70 ATHENE SENDS HER SISTER’S PHANTOM

Nor knows what death is purposed for her son!”
They spoke, not knowing what had been ordained.

But soon Antinous rose and thus began:
“ Avoid ye all this talk misproud and wild,
My friends, lest haply it be told within.
Rather keep silence for awhile, and rise
To do what seem’d so good to all our minds.”
He spoke, and twenty of their best he chose.
Down to the galley and the strand they went.
Into deep water first they launched the bark,
And in its black-dyed hull set mast and sails,
But fix’d the oars in leathern loops, all things
In order due, and hoisted the white sails.
Their brave attendants brought their armour down.
So, with the galley moor’d in open sea,
They went aboard, made ready their repast
And ate, and waited there the fall of eve.

But since divine Penelope had gone
Into the upper chamber, there she lay
Fasting, nor tasting drink or food, but still
Revolving if her blameless son could ’scape
Or by the haughty Suitors’ hands must die.
As many cares as in a lion’s breast
Pass, when amidst a throng he is a-fear’d
Of men who round him draw a deadly ring;
So many cares revolving—slumber soft
Seized her at last, and back she sank, and slept,
With every lovely limb in rest relax’d.

One other solace then Athene gave.
She made a Phantom fashioned all in form
Like to a woman, great Icarius’ Child
Iphthimé, whom Eumelus wed, the Chief
Of Pherze. This she ordered to the house
Of King Odysseus, that it there perchance
Might soothe Penelope from her lament
And stay her bitter weeping. By the thong
Whence the key hung the Spirit entering passed
Into her room, and standing o’er her spake:
FOR HER CONSOLATION 71

“Poor stricken Heart, Penelope, thou sleepst ! BOOK Iv.
Howbeit the Gods who dwell in bliss etern 804—838.
Would bid thee mourn not nor repine so sad;
Seeing that thy son will yet return to thee,

Who hath not sinn’d against the Gods at all.”

To whom divine Penelope returned,

Still softly slumbering in the gates of Dreams:

“For what dear cause, my Sister, art thou come?
Thou used not heretofore, since far away
The house that thou inhabitst. And thou wouldst
That I should stay me from this sore distress
And still the pains that rack me through and through !
I, who have lost a husband, noble, brave,

Most true, and with all manner of virtue crown’d
Amongst the Danaan Chieftains ; wide his fame
Through midmost Argos and all Hellas spread.
And now my well-belovéd son hath gone

On venture of a voyage, a mere child,

Neither in counsels nor in labours versed !

For him I more than for my husband mourn
And quake and quiver, lest he suffer hurt,
Whether amongst the folk to whom he went,
Or on the sea returning: for his foes

Are many, and, desirous of his death,

They plot to slay him on his journey home.”

And the dim Phantom answered her, and said:
“Be of good cheer, nor troubled over-much.

So mighty a companion cleaves to thee

(Whom many a man hath oft invoked to stand

So by his side, for She is strong to save),

Pallas Athene. She hath ruth on thee

Thus sorrowing ; and hath sent me for this cause.”

To whom divine Penelope replied:

“Tf, being a God, thou hast conversed with Gods,
Tell to me all my hapless husband's fate!

Is he alive, and seeing yet the Sun,

Or dead, and in the halls of Hades lost ?”’

And the dim Phantom answered her, and spoke:
“Of him, alive or dead, I may not tell;

And to no purpose it were ill to speak.’

It spoke, and vanish’d into windy air,
BOOK IV.
839—847,

72 THE SUITORS LAY THEIR AMBUSH

Along the key-thong of the door: but she,
Icarius’ daughter, sprang from sleep, and all
Her heart was comforted; so clear that Dream
Had overhung her in the deep midnight.

But now the Suitors had embarked, and sailed
Upon their watery way, and in their hearts
Destined Telemachus a sudden death.

A rocky island out at sea there lies

Midway ’twixt Ithaca and Samos’ crags,
Asteris by name, not large, but bays are there,
With double inlets deep, for ambush apt ;

And there the Achaians laid their ship in wait.
THE GODS HOLD A SECOND COUNCIL 73

ODYSSEY V.
Dawn from her couch with fair Tithonus rose BOOK V.
Bearer of light to mortal and to God, 1—25.

When the Gods met in session—midmost Zeus,

The high-throned Thunderer, mightiest in his strength.
To these Athene spake, and mindful told

Odysseus’ many sorrows; for her heart

Was troubled for him in the Nymph’s abode:

“ Zeus, Father, and all ye who dwell in bliss
No more let sceptred King refrain, nor care
Henceforward to be mild and merciful,

Or zealous, or to keep him just and pure;
Rather be hard of heart and work misdeed !
Since of the people whom Odysseus ruled,
Like their own father, with a gentle hand,
Not one in dear remembrance holds him now.
Thrown on an isle, in bitter grief he lies,
Pent in the Nymph Calypso’s caves, perforce
There tarrying, nor can gain his fatherland,
Since he hath neither oaréd ships nor crews
To help him o’er the sea’s broad shoulders home.
This now is added—that men seek to slay
His well-belovéd son as he returns
Homeward from Lacedzmon’s town divine
Or sacred Pylos, whither he hath gone

After some hearing of his father’s fate.”

And Zeus the Ruler of the clouds replied:

“ My child, what saying slips thy teeth’s white fence ?
Is not this counsel of thine own device

That upon yonder Wooers of his wife

Odysseus may have ample vengeance soon ?

But, as thou well art able, so conduct

Telemachus, that scathless he may come
BOOK V.
26—59.

74 AND DESPATCH HERMES TO CALYPSO

Back to his native land, the while his foes,
The Suitors, on a bootless errand roam.”

He spoke, and turn’d to Hermes, his dear son:
“ Hermes, who oft on other hests hast borne
My message, haste inform the fair-haired Nymph
Of our fix’d counsel for the ordain’d return
Of long-enduring Odyseus to home.
Let him go forth unhelp’d by God or man
Alone upon a timber’d raft afloat,
That, suffering hardly, on the twentieth day
To fertile Scheria he may come, the realm
Of the Phzacians; who, themselves akin
To Gods, shall from their hearts, as to a God,
Pay him great honour and escort him thence
To his own shores, with gold and brass bestow’d
And raiment—such large gifts as, had he come
With his full portion of the spoil unscathed,
He had not brought from Troy. For Fate at last
Allows him back again to all he loves
In his own high-built house and native land.”

He spoke ; the mighty Pursuivant obey’d:
But first beneath his feet he bound the shoon,
Beauteous, ambrosial, golden ; oft their wont
Over wide waters, over limitless earth,
To bear him on the breathings of the wind.
Next, he took up the wand, wherewith he seals
The eyes of whom he lists, but ev’n from sleep
Awaketh others: this in hand, he flew,
Stepp’d on Pieria’s peaks, and from the air
Dropp’d on the sea; there onward o’er the waves
Smoothly he hasten’d; as a thick-plumed gull
That through the dread depths of the barren sea
Plunges for fish, and with the brine her wings
Are moisten’d ; lightly thus he rode the waves;
Till, when he reach’d the distant isle, he rose,
Leaving the violet waters, up to land;
Near the great cavern where the fair-hair’d Nymph
Held her abodes, and found her there within.

%

Bright on the hearth was blazing a great fire,
Whence went far through the island the sweet smell
HE REACHES HER GROTTO AND 75

Of well-split cedar-wood and juniper BOOK V.
There burning; She within above a web 60—93.
Moved to and fro, with tender voice the while

Singing, and with a golden shuttle wove.

A coppice had grown and blossom’d round the cave,

Alder, sweet cypress, and the aspen pale,

Wherein broad-plumaged birds had made their nests,

Owls, falcons, and that long-beak’d tribe of crows

Which have their business on the mighty deep.

But all about the grotto gadding clung

A vine, and with luxuriant clusters bloom’d.

Four fountains of clear water side by side

Ran, wandering wild, but each to other near;

Soft meads of violet or of parsley green

Spread round it; on that spot a God might pause

Admiring, touch’d with beauty to the heart ;

As Argeiphontes now admiring stood :

Till, when his eyes had had their full delight,

Into the neighbouring cave he enter’d quick.

Calypso saw, and knew him, face to face ;
Not to each other are the Gods unknown,
How far soe’er their several mansions be.

But brave-enduring Odyseus within
He found not; who was sitting to his wont
On the sea-shore alone, straining his eyes
Across the barren waves, breaking his heart
With sorrow and lamentation, all in tears.

Then as She placed him on a glistening throne
Calypso made of Hermes question thus:
“Hermes, O Holder of the golden rod,
Revered and welcome, wherefore art thou here,
On visit so unwonted? Speak thy will;
My heart is quick to do it, so it be
That which I can and that which may be done.
Yet tarry for some hospitable fare.”
And as she spoke the Goddess at his side
Set forth a table with ambrosia piled
And mingled ruddy nectar in a cup.
-BOOK V.
94—127,

76 BIDS HER RELEASE ODYSSEUS

Thereof did Argeiphontes eat and drink.
When he had supp’d and ate to heart’s desire,
In answer he return’d these wingéd words:

“ Dost thou a Goddess ask of me a God
The purport of my coming? As thou biddst
So truly I will tell thee my behest.

Zeus bade me hither, all against my wish ;

For who would traverse of his own free will

A wilderness of waters salt and waste?

Nor is there any neighbouring city of men
Whence savoury sacrifice or hecatombs

Could to a God be offer’'d. Well thou knowest,
No Power divine may thwart the will of Zeus;
And He now saith that with thee here abides
The man most pitiable of all that host

Who fought round Priam’s citadel nine years,
And in the tenth despoil’d the town, and went
Homeward their several ways; yet on return
Sinn’d against Athenaié, and she drave

An evil storm upon them and fierce waves:

So that his comrades all have perished quite ;
Him only wind and wave have brought to thee:
And him Zeus orders thee to send forthwith
To his own home—not destin’d here to die,
But Fate allows him back to all he loves

In his high-builded house and native land.”

He spoke; the heavenly Nymph was thrill’d with grief
And thus in answer spake her wingéd words:

“ Ah hard of heart, and jealous over-much—
Exceeding jealous, Gods! Who alway grudge
The Goddesses our loves with mortal men,
When unconceal’d we make ourselves such mates!
Thus was it, when rose-finger’d Dawn divine
Took to herself Orion ; ye the Gods
Begrudged her passion from your blissful thrones,
Till in Ortygia holy Artemis
Pass’d o’er him with her gentle darts and slew.
Thus was it, when gold-hair’'d Demeter loved
Jason, and yielding to her fond desire
Lay with him in a thrice-plough’d fallow field.
No long while Zeus was unaware, but struck
SHE CONSENTS UNDER PROTEST 77

And slew him with a white-hot flash from heaven. BOOK V.
Thus is it now, when ye the Gods begrudge 128—162.
That this loved mortal in my house abides.
Yet him I rescued on his keel afloat
Riding alone, when Zeus had struck his ship
And cloven it with a white-hot flash from heaven:
So that his comrades all were quite destroy’d ;
Him only wind and wave have hither brought ;
And him I loved and cherish’d—yea, and said
Immortal and unaging all his days
I soon would make him. Sinee, howbeit, I know
No Power divine may thwart the will of Zeus,
If He now bids him o’er the barren sea,
Let him depart! No escort can | give,
For neither oaréd ships are mine, nor crews,
To help him o’er the sea’s broad shoulders home ;
But from my heart with no concealment I
Will now advise him how with least annoy
He may regain his home and native land.”

And Argeiphontes answer’d, guide in heaven:
“ Yea, thus dismiss him; pay regard to Zeus,
Lest hardly in his wrath He bear on thee.”

So speaking Argeiphontes pass’d away.

To brave Odysseus then the heavenly Nymph
Went for obedience to the hest of Zeus.
She found him sitting on the shore, his eyes
Big with unceasing tears, and in lament
For his return the sweetness of his life
Was ebbing fast away: since now no more
The heavenly Nymph was pleasing in his sight !
The nights perforce inside the grot he lay,
Unloving, by her loving; but all days
Sitting amongst the rocks and sands he spent,
Straining his eyes across the barren sea,
In sorrow and lamentation, weeping still.
Near him the stately Goddess stood, and said:
“[ll-fated! I entreat thee, weep no more,
Nor let thy life be wither’d! I consent
To send thee hence already. Get thee forth
To hew long logs and fashion with thine axe
BOOK Vv.

163—189.

78 AND INSTRUCTS THE HERO TO BUILD

A large broad raft and set a deck thereon,

That it may bear thee o’er the cloud-streak’d main.
But corn and water I will stow myself

Aboard it and red wine to meet desire

And stave all hunger off thee. Raiment too

I will put round thee and awake a breeze

Behind thee, that quite scathless thou mayst go;

Let but the Gods vouchsafe thee such return,

The Gods, who in broad Heaven possess their thrones,
In thought and deed much mightier than myself.”

She spoke; but long-enduring Odyseus
Shuddering for awe return’d these wingéd words:

“Not my safe-conduct, but some other thing,
Lurks in this counsel, Goddess, sending me
O’er the dread billows of the unsounded deep,

A perilous way and toilsome, on a raft.

Ev’n galleys with full-trimm’d equipment swift,

Exultant in a favouring breeze from Zeus,

Fail to travérse it. Nor, against thy wish,

Would I at all adventure on a raft,

Unless thou deign’d, O Goddess, by some oath

To swear thou wilt not mean me any harm.”
“He spoke; the stately Nymph Calypso smiled,

Laid a soft hand upon him, and replied:

“ Skill’d in no idle knowledge, yet thou errst *
Greatly herein. What manner of doubt is this
Thou utterest forth so boldly? Yet, O Earth,
Hear me, and thou, broad Heaven above, and ye,
Waters of Styx below us (oath, most dread,

Most awful, that can bind a blissful God),
No evil harm against thee I] intend.

Rather for thee the counsel and the care

I take which for my own sake I should seek

*”H 5h ddutpds ¥ eco Kat odk dropdAra eidds.

The interpretation given in the text is that of the Scholiast.
Modern commentators have generally taken the words as an ironical
teproach. ‘‘ Shrewd rascal! in the world’s wise caution versed!” A
piece of banter which would be characteristic of Athene in her
conversations with the hero, but which appears to me out of keeping
with the melancholy, almost sentimental, tone adopted by Calypso.
Moreover, GAitpds, dArtalyw, &AITH wr, in Homer are words which
elsewhere always convey a sense of grave reprobation.
A RAPT FOR WHICH SHE SUPPLIES 79

If a like need assail’d me. Verily, BOOK V.
My mind is righteous, neither in my breast 190—222.
The heart is iron, but most full of ruth.”

So spake the stately Nymph and led the way
Swiftly; he follow’d in her steps divine.

Together, man and Goddess, in the cave
They enter’d, where he placed him on the seat
Whence Hermes had arisen; and the Nymph
Set by him all such food to eat and drink
As mortal men do use ; then face to face
Sate with the hero down, while handmaids served
Ambrosia to her and nectar. Both laid hands
Upon the delicate fare before them spread ;
And, when desire was fill’d of food and drink,
The stately Nymph Calypso thus resumed:

“ Sage master of all arts, Laértes’ son,
Zeus-born Odysseus! Art thou still so fain
For home and fatherland to start forthwith ?
So be it, and fare thee well! Yet, couldst thou know
What troubles Fate ordains thou needs must bear
Ere thou regain thy country, thou wouldst pause
And liefer here remaining live with me,
Immortal also, and abandon quite
This longing to revisit thy dear wife,
On whom thy thoughts seem anchor’d all thy days!
Howbeit, to her I well may boast myself
In body or mind inferior in no wise ;
With Gods for beauty mortals may not vie.”

To whom deep-wiled Odysseus answer’d thus:
“‘ Goddess, yet therefore be not wroth with me.
Full well I know the wise Penelope
For beauty and stature unto every eye
Below thee far, who is but mortal-born,
But thou a Goddess and exempt from age.
Nathless my longing and my hope’s intent
All my days through are for departure home
And to behold the hour of my return.
Let the Gods wreck me on the dark-hued deep!
Of the long-suffering heart within my breast
I shall find patience to endure it still.
BOOK V.
223—254.

80 THE MATERIALS AND TOOLS

Much have I suffer’d, much have laboured through,
Already, both in war and on the wave ;
Let this to those be added; be it so!”’

He spoke ; the sun now fell, and darkness came;
And in the hollow grot the two withdrawn
Lay each with other for their love’s delight.

With the first birth of rosy-finger’d Dawn
Odysseus rose and round him donn’d a cloak
And tunic, while the Nymph about herself
Threw a large mantle, white, fine-woven, and fair,
And with a lovely golden girdle clasp’d
Her waist, and from her head let fall a veil;
“Then turn’d her to assist Odysseus forth.

A large axe first, apt to his hands, she gave,
Of brass and edged on either side, whereto ~
The handle was of olive, well made fast
And beautifully carven ; next, she gave
An adze of polish bright, and led the way
On to the,island’s verge, where lofty trees,
Poplar and alder and sky-piercing pine,
Grew thick, but all sun-parch’d long since, and dried,
Such as would float most buoyant on the waves.
When she had shown him where these tall trees grew,
Into her house the Goddess-Nymph return’d.

But he straight fell’d him trees, and swiftly sped
Onward his work ; twenty in all he hew’d
Down with his axe, and deftly planed the planks
And made them straight by rule. The while the Nymph
Brought gimlets forth, wherewith he bored them all
And each to each adjusted; then by bolts
And rivets fix’d the raft together fast.
Wide as a well-skill’d builder frames the hull
Of a broad galley large for merchandise,
To such a width Odysseus made his raft ;
Then fitted to the close-set ribs and raised
A deck, with long cross-timbers wrought complete ;
In which he placed a mast, and thereupon
Hoisted a yard, and added wherewithal
ON THE FIFTH DAY HE DEPARTS 81

To steer the raft a rudder. All the sides BOOK V.
He fenced about with osier-work to be 255—284,
A shelter from the billows, and piled within
Fagots for ballast. Then the heavenly Nymph
Calypso brought him mantles, whence to make
The sails; and also these he fashion’d well.
Cables and shrouds and yard-ropes last aboard
He bound, and haul’d into the sacred sea
The raft with rollers down.

The fourth day came,
And all his work was ended. On the fifth
Divine Calypso sped him forth, but first
Bathed him and in sweet-perfumed raiment clad.
Also the Goddess placed aboard two jars,
One full of water, and large, the other full
Of dark-hued wine; and in a wallet food
She put with many a dainty to desire,
And call’d to blow behind him a fair breeze,
Summery and harmless.

To the favouring breeze
Blithely divine Odysseus spread his sails,
And with the rudder steer’d most heedfully,
Sitting astern: nor slumber on his lids
Settled at all, while on the Pleiads still
He gazed, and on the latest-sinking star
Bodtes, and on Arctos, hight the Wain,
Who steadfast in the self-same place is whirl’d,
Thence watching on Orion, and alone
Partakes not in the baths of Ocean’s stream.
For the fair Nymph had bidden him as he sail’d
Ever to keep these stars upon his left.
So seventeen days he held his voyage on ;
On the eighteenth he saw the mountains lift
In the Phzacians’ land their shadowy crests,
Where it was nearest to him; and they show’d
Like a bright shield above the darkling main.

But now the sovran God who rules the sea,
Returning from the 2thiopian feast,
Far from the mountains of the Solymi
Descried him (for he show’d as on a ship
6
BOOK V.
285—318.

82 BUT IS WRECKED BY POSEIDON

Sailing), and waxing wrathful shook his head
And to his own great heart in anger spake:
‘“‘Ah shame, ye Gods! Who verily have reversed
In favour of Odysseus your intents,
Whilst I was with the AEthiops far aloof!
Near the Phzacians’ land he draws, where Fate
Permits him to escape the extreme of all
The woe that falls upon him: yet, perchance
In misery I shall plunge him deep enow.”
He ended, and together call’d the clouds,
Taking his trident, and perturb’d the sea,
Rousing fierce blasts of every wind that blows.
The earth and sea alike in clouds he wrapp’d
And Night sprang down from heaven. Together all,
East wind and West and Zephyr’s tempest wild
And sky-born Boreas, rolling a billowy mass,
Clash’d on the sea. Odysseus’ heart and limbs
Grew faint, and to his own brave soul he said:
“Wretch that lam! What issue awaits me now?
My dread is lest the Goddess told me true
That ere I can arrive my fatherland
I must fulfil much suffering ; yea, these things
Already come to pass. With what vast clouds
Zeus covereth up broad heaven and hath perturb’d
The deep! What blasts of every wind that blows
Whirl round me! Most assured destruction seems.
Ah blest, thrice-blest those Danaans, who fell slain
In Troy and for the cause of Atreus’ Sons!
Would | had died too and drawn down my doom
When all in battle round Peleion’s corse
A host of Trojans hurl’d their brazen spears :
So had I with all honours been entomb’d
And far the Achaians would have borne my fame;
Now in a sorry death enmesh’d I die!”
Ev’n as he spoke a great wave overtopp’d
The raft, and, rising dread above it, struck
And whirl’d it round; dashed off it, far he fell,
Letting the rudder from his grasp, the while
From all the winds commingled a fierce blast
Snapt i’ the middle the mast, and sail and yard
Went wide amongst the billows. Some long time
AND SAVED FROM DEATH BY INO 83

It held him under water; such the rush BOOK V.
Of that great wave, he could not quickly rise, 319—350.
And eke the raiment weighted him, the gift

Of the fair Nymph Calypso. Yet at last

He rose again, and spat from out his mouth

The bitter brine that rain’d about his head;

Nor then, for all his piteous plight, forgat

The raft, but turn’d him in the waves, and caught

Firm hold thereon, and climbing to its midst

Regain’d his seat, escaping utter death.

Yet the huge billows toss’d it to and fro;

As when a summer blast of Boreas drives

The husks of beans across the plain, and they

Cling each to other close, ev’n so the winds

Drave to and fro the raft across the sea, |

The west now yielding it to Boreas up,

The east wind then to Zephyr’s furious sport.

But Ino, slender-ankled Ino, saw—
(The child of Cadmus, now Leucothea named,
Who, erst a mortal, spake with mortal’s tongue
But now hath in the sea’s great depths her part
With Gods in honour)—She on Odyseus
Took ruth, beholding that his sore distress
And wanderings wide astray; and, osprey-like,
Ascending to the surface took her seat
Upon the many-timber’d raft, and said:

“Til-fated! Why beyond all measure thus
Doth great Poseidon torture thee and make
All evil grow around thee? Though his heart
Be set thereto, he will not work thy death.
I deem thou lackst not wisdom; therefore do
As I now bid thee. Cast this raiment off,
Leave to the winds thy raft, and swimming cling
Fast to Phzeacia, where thy fate permits
Refuge at last. Take too this veil divine,
Spread it beneath thy chest, and have no fear
Of suffering or of death. But, when thy hands
Touch the dry land, unbind and from the shore
Fling it far back into the purpling waves,
Turning thyself away, and so depart.”
BOOK V.
351—355.

84 THE RAFT BEING DESTROYED

Speaking the Goddess gave the veil, and plunged
Into the billowy ocean back again,
Like a wing’d osprey cover’d by the wave.
But long-enduring Odyseus she left
Pondering and saying to his own brave heart:
‘‘A God, alas, is weaving to my harm
Some new deceit, who bids me quit this raft.
Not yet will I obey her; mine own eyes
Behold how far the shore at which she said
My refuge lies. This seemeth best tome;
Long as these timbers to their rivets hold,
So long I here remain and bear all chance ;
But when the waves have broken up the raft
Then will I swim: my mind foresees no more.”
Whilst in his inmost soul he ponder’d thus,
Poseidon, the dread Shaker of the earth,
Upheaved a mighty billow, overarched
Against him, huge, terrific, and it fell.
As a strong wind breaks up a mound of chaff
And scatters the parch’d atoms every way,
So scatter’d flew the timbers of the raft.
Nathless Odysseus, like a man astride
On a swift horse, on one plank rode, and stripp’d
Off him the raiment which Calypso gave,
And spread beneath his chest the veil—then dropp’d
Prone on the waters, stretching out his hands
As fain to swim. Poseidon saw him thus,
And shook his sovran head, and spake, well-pleased:
‘So take thee wandering o’er the sea, and bear
Thy sorrows, till thou gain thy Zeus-born friends.
Yet not, I ween, though there thy refuge be,
Wilt thou deem lightly of these miseries.”
He spoke, and thong’d his glossy steeds, and drave
To Age, where his far-famed mansions lie.

But other far was Athenaié’s will,
The Maiden-Child of Zeus; She fetter’d up
The passage of all other winds, and bade
All to be lull’d and cease, but sent one forth,
Boreas, and bade him blow until the Chief
(All peril of his death and fate being past)
HE IS THROWN UPON PH/GACIA 85

Should mix with the Phzacian mariners. BOOK V.
° 336—420.

Two nights, two days, toss’d on a heavy sea,

Ofttimes his heart foreboded only death.

But when the fair-tress’d Dawn had perfected

The third bright day, the wind fell, and a lull

Came o’er the deep; then lifted to the height

Of a great billow and looking keenly ahead,

He saw the land now near and wood thereon.

And welcome as to children signs of life

In their dear father, who in sickness lies

Long wasting in death’s agonies away,

Held by some evil spirit, until the Gods

At last deliver him from his hurt made whole;

So welcome show’d the land and wood thereon

To brave Odysseus, and he struck out blithe,

Full fain to tread upon the earth once more.

When he was so far off as by a shout

A voice can travel, thence he heard the crash

Of breakers on the cliffs; for on that coast

The sea roars ever beating terribly

In foam, and all is lost in clouds of spray ;

Since neither havens lie nor roadsteads there,

Nor aught save jutting bluff and reef and crag.

Odysseus’ limbs and heart grew faint thereat,

And troubled, to his own brave heart he said:
“Alas for me! Even after Zeus bestows

This glimpse of land unhoped for, and my path

Hath through the floods been cloven, yet appears

No door of passage open from the sea.

For on the marge are pointed rocks, and waves

Dash round them, and the cliff mounts sheer above;

Whilst on the brink the water is too deep

To afford me any footing whence to climb

Clear of my trouble; rather, as I climb,

Some wave would seize and on the stony rock

Dash me, and all my struggle were in vain.

Or, if I swim on further, so to seek

A shelving beach perchance or inlet smooth,

I dread lest some strong current snatch me back,

And out into the fish-fill’d deep again
BOOK V.
421—452.

86 WHERE ESCAPING THE ROCKS

Hurry me in most miserable plight ;
Or else lest Heaven let loose against my life
Some one of all the monsters which in flocks
Famed Amphitrité breeds; full well I know
His wrath yet unappeased, who shakes the earth.”
Whilst in his inmost soul he ponder’d thus,
A great wave threw him on the rugged coast ;
His skin had then been torn, his bones been crushed,
Had not Athene prompted to his mind
To seize the rock on which he went and hold
With either hand. Deep-groaning, firm he held
Till the wave passed, and he beneath was saved.
But o’er him flooding back it came again,
And struck, and hurl’d him far into the sea.
When from its bed a polypus is dragged,
Still to its suckers close the pebbles stick,
So from his sinewy hands the skin stuck torn
Still on the rocks; and buried in the waves
He sank distressed, and even against his Fate
Had perished, had not Pallas yet once more
Inspired him counsel. When from out the wave
Rising, he saw the coast all wrapt in foam,
He swam along the shore, and looked, to find
Some shelving beach perchance or inlet smooth,
So to a gently-flowing river’s mouth
Arrived at length, where easiest showed a place,
Clear of all rocks, and sheltered from the wind.
He saw and knew a River flowing forth
And in his heart invoked the God and prayed :
“ Lord of this river, whosoe’er thou art,
Oh hear my supplication! Oft my cry
Went up for thee, to whom I now arrive,
When fleeing from Poseidon’s chastisements.
Even to Immortals sacred is the man
Who comes a wandering outcast to their feet,
As I now come unto thy stream, and, worn
With suffering, clasp thy knees. Be pitiful;
Hear, for I boast on thee a suppliant’s claim.”
He spoke, the River stayed his stream, and made
A calm before him, and received him safe
Into the shallow's mouth. The Hero’s knees
HE LANDS AT A RIVER’S MOUTH 87

And mighty arms gave way at once, the strength BOOK V.
Of his dear heart being by the sea subdued. 453—489,
All swollen his skin; and the salt water gushed
From out both mouth and nostril; faint he lay,
Breathless and speechless, in a dire fatigue.
But when, with breath recovered, spirit returned,
First he unbound the veil and let it float
Down the sea-mingling river. A great wave
Bare it along the stream and in her hands
Ino received it back. Then from'the stream
He turned and ’mid the rushes stooping down
Kissed the rich earth, yet communing with himself:

“ Ah me, what suffering! What awaits me now?
If by the stream I pass this troubled night,
I dread the fresh dew and the blighting rime '
After this faintness will subdue my strength
Ev’n to the rendering of my ghost; for chill
Blows the breeze off a river just ere dawn.
But if I mount the incline and lay me down
In the dense thickets of the shady wood
And if in this fatigue and cold relax’d
Sweet slumber overcome me there, I dread
Lest to wild-beasts I fall an easy prey.”

To whom thus doubting this the better seemed,
To ascend into the coppice where it stood
Above the water on a hill far-seen.
Under two shrubs, of hazel one, and one
Of olive, close together grown, he crept.
These not the might of moisture-laden winds,
Nor with his burning beams the Sun could pierce,
Nor ever rain passed through them ; each to each
So dense they grew entangled. Under them
Odysseus entered, and a broad bed strewed
With his own hands; for leaves in plenty shed
Lay round him, such as would suffice two men,
Or three, for litter even in winter-tide,
However sore the season. At the sight
Odysseus joyed and threw him in their midst
And heaped them o’er him. As a man conceals
A fire-brand in black ashes on the verge
Of tillage where no neighbours dwell, and keeps
BOOK V.
490— 493.

88 AND FALLS INTO A DEEP SLEEP

The seed of fire alive, lest else he be

Par driven to seek it; so Odysseus then
Covered him up in leaves; whilst o’er his eyne
Athene shed soft slumber, with all speed

To rest his weary limbs, and close his lids.
NAUSICAA IN A DREAM 89

ODYSSEY VI.
So in fatigue and slumber quite worn out BOOK VI.
The noble long-enduring Hero lay ; 1—26,

Whilst to the habitations and the town

Of the Phzeacian race Athene sped.

In wide-spaced Hypereia erst they dwelt

Near the Cyclopés, who oppressed them sore,

Foes tyrannous and stronger of their might:

Thence therefore brave Nausithous led them forth

And moved and settled them in Scheria’s isle

Aloof from all oppressors; round their town

He raised a wall, and built their homes, and reared

Shrines to their Gods, and meted out their fields.

But he had some while since to Hades pass’d,

Surrendered to his fate; and in his stead

Alcinous reigned with wisdom taught from Heaven.

Into his palace went the Child of Zeus ,

Intent on brave Odysseus’ safe return,

And entered where the daughter of the King,

Fair as a Goddess for her face and form,

Nausicaa, in a carven chamber slept.

In beauty by the Graces’ gift bestowed

Two handmaids at the doorposts either side

Lay sleeping, and the glittering doors were closed ;

But She passed through all barriers, like a breath

Of air unheard, and stood above her head

And spake, in likeness of the maiden child

Of Dymas (a famed captain of their fleet).

The best belovéd of her play-fellows ;

Guised in her image, thus the Goddess spoke:
“Why is Nausicaa careless of her task,

Being child of such a mother? Unheeded lie

Her garments, glistening though their texture be.
BOOK VI.
27—56.

90 IS BIDDEN WITH HER MAIDENS

And yet thy marriage now approacheth near,

When thou shouldst don fair clothes thyself, and have

To give to those who take thee to their home.

For from these things a good report proceeds

Far amongst men, and therewithal delight

To father and dear mother. Let us go

Forth therefore to the washing at the break

Of dawn together, thou and I, that so

Thou mayst prepare thee with the least delay.

Certés, thou wilt not long remain a maid:

Already through the town the noblest-born

Of this Phzeacian people, thine own race,

Proclaim themselves thy wooers. Rise then, haste,

Bid thy famed father harness thee ere dawn

Mules and a wain, to carry hence the clothes,

Thy robes and rich-dyed stuffs and girdled gowns:

And better for thyself ’twere thus to go,

Since from the town the washing-place is far.”’
Speaking the virgin Goddess passed away

Up to Olympus, where (men rumour) lies

The abode of Gods, eternal, nor by winds

Is vexéd ever, nor by rain is marr’d,

Nor snow falls cold upon it ; but it basks

Under a sky unclouded, over-shone

With everlasting radiance, and the Gods

Dwell there in perfect pleasure all their days.

And thither, when her message was complete

To the fair maid, Athene passed away.

The bright-throned Dawn now came, and woke from
sleep
Nausicaa, who in sudden wonder threw
The dream aside and through the palace went
To tell her father dear and mother all,
And found them both within. Beside the hearth
With her attendant maids the mother sate
Spinning sea-purpled wool; but at the door
She met her father, to the council-hall
Now going, by the brave Phzeacians called
To join the noble Chiefs assembled there ;
Him she approached quite near, and thus addressed;
TO WASH RAIMENT IN THE RIVER 91

“Wilt thou not, dear my Father, harness me BOOK VI.
The high and well-wheel’d cart, that I may take 57—90.
Our far-famed raiment to the riverside,

To cleanse what in the house now lies besoil'd?
Thyself shouldst clothe thee in clean garb to sit
Presiding o’er thy Chiefs in council-hall ;

Five too the sons belovéd in thy house ;

Two wedded are, and three brave bachelors ;

But washen garments each and all will need
Entering the dance ; and these things are my care.”

So spake she ; for she shrank from mention clear
To her dear father of her marriage-hour ;

But he, perceiving all, made answer thus:

“Neither the mules I grudge, nor aught, my Child,
That thou desirést ; go; the high-built wain,
Well-wheel’d, hood-sheltered, shall be harnessed straight.”

He spoke, and to his servants gave the hest,

Who hearkened, and outside the gates gat forth
The wain, and yoked the mules ; the while the girl
Brought from her chamber and on the polished car
Piled the gay raiment. But her mother put

All manner of delicate fare and dainties cooked
Into a basket on the wain, with wine

Poured into a goat-skin jar. Then on the seat
The maiden mounted, and her mother gave

Last to her in a golden cruse sweet oil

To anoint her and her handmaids therewithal.

Into her hands she took the goad and reins

And pricked the mules, whose neigh right shrilly rose
As they strained forward, laden with the clothes
And her, who went not forth companionless,

But with her went her company of maids.

The River’s limpid stream they reached anon,
Where were the washing-tanks, in plenty built,
And fill’d with flowing water fit to cleanse
All mire away. And there from ‘neath the wain
They loosed the mules and let them free to graze
On the sweet grass like honey to their mouths
Along the eddying river. But the clothes
They lifted from the car and carried down
BOOK VI.
91—122.

92 WHERE WITH NOISE OF THEIR SPORTS

To the dark stream ; and each with other vied
Trampling and dancing upon them in the tanks,
And sporting, till, when all were washen clean,
They stretched them out in order on the strand
Where waves had scour’d the pebbles. Then themselves
They bathed, and all anointed with sweet oil
Sate down along the river’s banks and ate,
Leaving the raiment ’neath the sun to dry.

But, when repast was ended, one and all

Cast off their head-dresses and in the game

Of ball disported ; and Nausicaa

Their white-arm’d Princess first began the sport,
And seemed as arrow-showering Artemis
Descending from some mountain—Erymanth,
Or, haply, the vast peak of Taygetus—

Filled with the rapture of the hunt of boar

Or fleet-foot hind ; and with her roam the Nymphs,
Children of mighty Zeus, and in her train
Disport them; but the heart of Leto swells

For high above them all her daughter towers

By head and forehead, easy to be known,
Where all are fair, the fairest ; ev’n so shone
Midst her attendant crowd that virgin maid.

But, when anon she would return to home,
Fold up the raiment, and reyoke the mules,
Then other help bright-eyed Athene plann’d,
Whereby Odysseus should be waked, and see
The fair-faced maid, and so be led by her
To the Phzeacians’ city, unassail’d.
The princess at a handmaid threw the ball;
It miss’d her, falling in the deep mid-stream ;
They shouted, and their outcry travelled far
And woke divine Odysseus, who, with head
Upraised, and sitting, communed with himself:
“What manner of men are these, upon whose land
I hapless have alighted? Savages,
Unrighteous, wild? Or hospitably bent,
Kindly, and of a nature dear to Gods?
Since such sweet voices ring around me here
As of the heavenly Nymphs who haunt the crests
THEY AWAKE ODYSSEUS 93

Of hill, or grassy mead, or fountain pure. BOOK VI.

Or am I now amid some human race? 123—159.

Let me essay them mine own self, and see.”
Speaking, divine Odysseus stooped, and came

From out the thicket, off the brushwood green

First plucking, to protect his nakedness,

A leafy branch, and onward moved, most like

Some lion, on the mountains nursed, in might

Disdainful, who through rain and wind makes way,

A fire within his eyes, for sheep or ox

Prowling, or wilder buck, his belly’s pinch

Driving him to adventure on the flocks

Though thick the habitation ; in such wise

Odysseus to those fair-haired maidens went,

Nor recked his nakedness, so sore his need.

But dire to them his aspect, all with brine

Befoul’d, and, in a panic scattered, all

Ran to each point and foreland: only stood

Alcinous’ daughter, by Athene filled

With courage, and her limbs all freed from fear:

To meet him firm she stood; but as he came

He pondered—should he clasp her knees, or stand

Aloof, and thence beseech the fair-faced maid

To grant him clothes, and guide him to her town ?

To whom thus doubting this the better seemed,

To stand far off, and thence with gentle words

Beseech her, lest the maiden’s modesty

Be startled by his clasp about her knees;

Soft and well-framed the words he thus began:
“Goddess or mortal, I implore, O Queen,

Thy mercy! If indeed thou art divine,

Of those who heaven inhabit, likest then

To Artemis the Child of mighty Zeus

For beauty and form and stature thee I deem.

But, if a mortal denizen of earth,

Blest then, thrice-blest, thy parents! Blest, thrice-blest,

Thy brethren! With delight for thy sweet sake

Their hearts must oft be melted, when they see

The flower o’ their house advancing to the dance!

But he beyond all other men most blest,

Who shall hereafter with his gifts prevail
BOOK VI.
160—189.

94 HE PLEADS HIS CAUSE BEFORE HER

And take thee to his home! For these mine eyes

In man or woman never have beheld

Thine equal—yea, I marvel as I gaze.

Beside Apollo’s altar once I saw

A palm-shoot springing up in Delos’ isle

(Whither I went, and with a mighty host,

A troublous journey, that hath cost me dear) ;

Thereon in manner like to this I gazed

Long while entranced, astonied; on this earth

Never so fair a stem had risen before ;

And thus on thee, O Lady, all entranced

I gaze, and worship, too much awed to clasp

Thy knees in this entreaty. Yet on me

A great misfortune presses ; yester-eve

At last upon the twentieth day ashore

I gat me from the ocean. All those days

The waves and furious winds were tossing me,

Hither in tempest from Ogygia borne.

And, though I now be thrown up here by Heaven,

Here also I shall suffer some new ill.

I cannot hope the Gods will e’er surcease ;

They still will wreak me many evils more.

But thou have pity, O Lady, on one, who comes

After these many sufferings first to thee,

And knows no others who inhabit here.

So to thy city show the path, and grant

Some raiment wherewithal to cover me,

If thou hast here a tattered shred to give.

So may the Gods grant thee thy heart’s desire,

A husband, and a household, and sweet peace

Ever therein; since nought indeed I know

Better or happier under heaven, than when

Husband and wife accordant with one soul

Possess their household—to their foes a grief

Perpetual, to their friends a pure delight—

But most the blessing to themselves is known.”
To whom white-limbed Nausicaa replied :

“Stranger, who seemst not evil nor unwise!

Since Zeus the Olympian in his own hands keeps

The gift of human fortune, and bestows

To each man good or evil, as he wills,
AND SHE PROMISES HER AID 95

So this on thee he hath bestowed, and thou BOOK VI.
Needs must endure it patient to the end. 190—223.
But now, alighted on our kingdom’s shores,
Thou shalt not want for raiment nor for aught
Suppliants may claim from whom they first may meet.
Hence to my city I will show the path,
And will declare to thee our nation’s name.
By the Phzacians this domain is held;
And I am daughter of Alcinous,
On whom their might and force are resting now.”
She spoke and to her fair-tressed maidens called:
“Stand near me, maidens: whither have ye fled
For a man’s visage? Deem ye him some foe?
There is not, nor will be, the man alive
Who durst adventure to invade with war
Phzacians, whom befriending Gods have set
Aloof, and in the midst of spreading sea,
Extremest of mankind, and mixed with none.
This is some luckless wanderer astray
To whom our tendance and good care are due.
From Zeus proceed all strangers and the poor;
Alms are a little, yet a kindly, thing.
Give therefore to this stranger drink and food ;
And in the river yonder let him bathe,
Where is the place best-sheltered from the wind.”
She spoke, they came, and, each encouraging each,
They led Odysseus to the sheltered spot
To which the daughter of Alcinous
Nausicaa had bidden them; by his side
They put a tunic and a cloak, to be
His raiment, and the golden cruse of oil
They gave and bade him in the river bathe ;
To whom the noble Hero turned and said:
“« Maidens, stand far aloof, that I alone
May wash from off my shoulders this salt brine
And with the oil anoint me; many a day
Hath passed since oil hath on my skin been poured.
I will not bathe me in your sight, and shun
To show my nakedness to maidens’ eyes.”
He spoke ; they, parting, told their princess all.
BOOK VI.
224—258.

96 ODYSSEUS RE-INVIGORATED

But he the while washed off his skin the brine
That clung about his neck and shoulders broad,
And cleansed the salt spray from his head and hair.
So bathed, and all anointed, next he donn’d
The raiment given him by the stainless maid ;
Whom then Athene Child of Zeus endowed
With beauty and stature to the eye, and wreathed
Curl’d tresses, like the hyacinthine flower,

Down from his head and shoulders. Such the grace
She shed thereon, as when a craftsman skilled,

By Pallas and Hephestus in his art

Instructed, molten gold on silver pours

And makes his work more precious ; such the grace
Then by Athene on Odysseus shed.

And in that beauty and stateliness he moved,
Glistening, some way apart along the shore

And sate him down; on whom the maiden fixed

Her eyes, and thus to her attendants spoke:

“Hear me, dear maidens, what I now would say.
Not without favour of the Olympian Gods
To the Phzacians’ land hath this man come.
Before uncouthly to mine eyes he showed,

But now as one of those who dwell in Heaven.

Aye, and I would that, settled in these parts

And here content abiding, some such man -

Were named my husband! Haste, my handmaids, haste
And set before the stranger drink and food.”

She spoke ; they hearkened gladly, and obeyed,
And set before Odysseus drink and food.

And with a greedy appetite, like one
Long lacking food, the much-tried Hero ate.

Nausicaa then bethought her of yet more ;
On the fair wain she laid the folded clothes,
And yoked the strong-hoofed mules, and to the seat
Ascending, quickened Odyseus, and said ;

‘Now rise, my guest, and to the town we go
Where is my prudent-hearted Father’s house,
And there, I ween, the noblest thou wilt find
Of all whom this Phzacian land can boast.
Howbeit, thus do; thou seemest to me discreet.
NAUSICAA DIRECTS HIM HOW 97

Whilst our path lies through tillage and the fields, BOOK VI.
So long behind the mules and wagon walk 259—290.
With these my maids, and I will lead the way.
But, when we reach the city—round it stands
A battlemented wall, and, either side,
Lies a smooth harbour, but the road is strait
Betwixt the harbours, and along the way
Are moor’d the well-bench’d galleys, each in place,
At its allotted station ; in the midst
The market-place, all built of quarried stone
Embedded firm, around a beauteous fane
Rear’d to Poseidon. On black galleys’ gear
The people there are all intent, and work
On shrouds and cables, and make smooth their oars.
For the Phzacians have not their delight
In bow or quiver, but in mast or shroud
Or oars, or in the even-builded ships
On which they bound exultant o’er the main.
Their sudden ill report I now would shun,
Lest mocking rise hereafter; in this town
The folk are with their own conceit o’er-brimm’d ;
One of mean sort might meet us, and would say:
‘Who is this goodly stranger, tall and fair,
Following behind Nausicaa? Whence hath she
Found him, who will perchance espouse her soon ?
Some storm-toss’d mariner from off his ship
And from a distant land (for none are near)
She hath brought home; or haply to her prayers
The God long-waited coming down from heaven
Arrives, and she will keep him all her days.
Yea, let her go a-wooing for herself
And find some foreign mate ; ’twere better so,
Seeing how she slights the many and noble men
Of this Phzeacian race who woo her here!’
Such talk might rise, and were to me reproach ;
For with another who would do the like
1 should be wroth myself—if any maid,
Unknown to mother-.or dear father, mixed
Before her marriage overbold with men.
If therefore from my father thou wouldst win
A conduct safe and help for thy return,
7
98 TO FOLLOW INTO THE CITY

Book vi. Heed, Stranger, well my words. We soon shall reach

291324. A lovely grove of poplars near the road
Sacred to Athenaié; water fresh
Flows from it, and around is meadow-land.
My father’s vineyard there stands rich in bloom,
Just from the town so far as by a shout
A voice may travel; there take seat, and rest
Such time as we may gain my father’s house.
When thou mayst deem we thither have arrived,
Enter inside the city, and inquire
Where is the mansion of Alcinoiis,
Full easy to be known—a witless child
Could guide thee thither. For no other stands
By the Phzacians built like that abode
For their chief hero. When its roofs and court
Contain thee, pass on quickly through the hall
Till thou approach my mother. At the hearth
She will be seated in the fire’s bright blaze
Spinning sea-purpled wool, a wondrous dye,
Leaning against a pillar; and, behind,
Her handmaids ranged. My father’s chair, whereon
Like an Immortal quaffing wine he sits,
Is opposite ; but pass him by, and cast
Suppliant thine arms about my mother’s knees.
So mayst thou see the day of thy return
(However far it be) with joyous speed.
For, if she from her heart should wish thee well,
Good hope is thine to come to all things dear
In thine own high-built house and native land.”

She spoke, and with the glittering goad pricked on

The mules which quickly left the stream and paced
Right well together and with nimble step.
But she so drave that all quite near remained,
Her handmaids and Odysseus, though on foot,
And managed with a cautious hand the lash.

The Sun sank, as they reached the beauteous grove
Sacred to Athenaié ; there remained
Divine Odysseus, taking seat, and straight
Called on the maiden Daughter of great Zeus:
“Child of the #gis-bearer, hear my prayer,
HE IMPLORES ATHENE ON THE WAY 99

Goddess unfailing! Give thine ear this while, BOOK VI.
Since then thou heardst not when my shipwreck came, 325331.
Sent by Poseidon Shaker of the earth.
Grant, when to these Phzacians I arrive,
They make me welcome and they show me ruth.”
Whose prayer Athene heard, but, face to face,
Appeared not yet before him, for she feared
Her father’s brother ; unallayed his wrath
Against Odysseus till he gained his home.
BOOK VII,
1—26.

100 ATHENE IN DISGUISE

ODYSSEY VII. .

So praying, brave Odysseus there remained,
Whilst her mules’ stubborn spirit quickly bare
The maiden to the city. When she reached
Her father’s far-renownéd house, she stayed
Within the porch the wain, and round her came
Her brothers, godlike in their strength, and straight
’Gan loose the mules and bear the raiment in.
But to her own rich chamber she passed on,
Where, from Apeira brought, a matron old,
Eurymedusa, sate, her chamber’s maid,
Kindling a fire. She, years agone, was taken
A captive from Apeira on their fleet
And on Alcinous was bestowed the prize,

Their King, and hearkened like a God by all.
Thenceforward in his house she dwelt the nurse
To fair Nausicaa, for whom she now

Kindled the fire and served the evening meal.

Meantime Odysseus likewise rose to go;
Round whom Athene of her favouring will
Shed a thick cloud, lest some Phzacian brave
Should cross him and with words of violence
Inquire his errand. And, when now at point
To enter the fair city, thwart his path
She came herself, the Goddess, in the guise
Of a young maid, a pitcher in her hand,
Standing before him, whom he questioned thus:
“Pair Child, wilt thou hence guide me to the house
Of him who reigns amongst this people King,
Alcinous? Since, a stranger sore-distress’d,
I have alighted from a distant land,
Nor know one man who in this town may dwell.”
GUIDES HIM TO THE PALACE 101

To whom bright-eyed Athene answered thus: BOOK VII.
‘Therefore, dear stranger, | will show thee fain 27—59.
The house thou namest, since neighbour to the home
He dwells of mine own father. This way come,

Following in silence as I lead; nor eye

These folk too curiously, nor ask them aught;
For here they brook not strangers, neither accost
With a warm welcome wanderers from abroad.
Rather they love to sail the mighty deep,

In arrowy ships delighting. Verily,

Swift by Poseidon’s favour run their ships,

Swift as a wingéd bird or fleeting thought!”
Pallas Athene ended thus and led

Quickly; he followed on her steps divine ;

Whom the far-famous race of mariners
Perceived not passing midst them through their town:
This the dread Goddess hinder’d, round about
Shedding a heavenly mist ; for in her heart
Fair-haired Athene always loved him well.

But as Odysseus went he marvelling saw
The roadsteads, and the even-builded ships,
The market-places where those heroes met,
And the long walls, reared loftily, and fringed
With battlements, a wonder to the eye:

Till as they reached the mansion of the King
Bright-eyed Athene first resumed address:

‘““This, stranger dear, the house thou badst me show.
Zeus-nurtured Kings at banquet are within.
But enter freely, neither let thy heart
Have fear of aught; since, whencesoe’er he comes,
And whatsoe’er the deed, the bold man plays
Ever the better part. Within the hall
First thou wilt find the mistress of the house,
By name Aréte, of the self-same stock
Born whence the King Alcinotis was sprung.
Poseidon, the Earth-shaker, first begat
Nausithous; fairest of all women on earth
His mother Periboea, youngest child
Of brave Eurymedon, who reignéd erst
King of the misproud Giants, yet destroyed
BOOK VII.
60—93.

102 HE PAUSES IN ADMIRATION

His impious people, and destroyed himself.
With his fair daughter Poseidaion lay
And so begat the brave Nausithoiis,
Who reign’d o’er the Phzacians, and begat
Two sons, Rexenor, and Alcinoiis.
Rexenor perished by the Silver-bow
When scarcely wedded, and he left no sons,
But this one only daughter, whom the King
Alcinous, his brother, took to wife,
And honoured, as no woman now on earth
Elsewhere is honoured. So is she esteemed
(Nor less in true desert than in esteem)
By her dear sons, and by Alcinous,
And by the people, who, when through the streets
She goeth forth, give loud acclaim, and fix
On her, as on a Goddess, all their eyes:
For naught she lacks in gentle art, and stays
The quarrel even of men whom she regards.
And if from out her heart she wish thee well
Good hope is thine to come to all things dear
In thine own high-built house and fatherland.”

Speaking bright-eyed Athene pass’d away
Across the untrodden ocean; and she left
Scheria’s fair isle and came to Marathon
And so to broad-way’d Athens, where she went
Into Erechtheus’ palace.

But, meanwhile,

Odysseus to Alcinous’ famed abode
Came, yet before the brazen threshold oft
Paused, pondering, and his heart misdoubted much ;
Since through renowned Alcinous’ high-roof'd house
There was a radiance as of sun or moon.
The walls with brass were panell’d all four sides
From threshold unto corner, but the roof
With blue enamel coped; of gold the gates
Which closed the whole rich mansion, and thereto
Silver the lintel, and the handles gold,
Silver the posts, and brass the threshold lay.
Of gold and silver, either side, were dogs,
Hephestus’ workmanship to rival life,
O’er the great King’s abode there placed in watch,
OF THE HOUSE AND GARDEN 103

Immortal, and unaging all their days. BOOK VII.
From threshold unto corner through the hall 94—125.
Thrones to the walls were added, either side,
Whereon soft fine-spun tapestry was thrown

The work of women’s hands. And there the chiefs
Now seated in their wassail ate and drank,

For plenty was before them. Youthful shapes,
Sculptured in gold, on well-built pedestals

Stood, and with lighted torches in their hands
Made the nights blaze to revellers in the halls.
Fifty the handmaids in that palace born;

Some on the millstones mellow grain would grind ;
Some weaving ply their shuttles, rustling quick

As the tall poplar’s leaves: so close their cloth
That liquid off its surface oil would run.

For, as the men of that Phzeacian race

Are skill’d above all other men to drive

A galley like an arrow through the deep,

Even so in weaving are their women skilled,

On whom Athene hath bestowed the craft

Of loveliest handiwork and gentle minds.

But out beyond the court an orchard spread
Four acres’ space, and reached quite near the gates,
Ring’d by a fence all round; and high the trees
Flourished and grew therein, pomegranates, pears,
Gay-tinted apple, and the fig-tree sweet,

And olive in full blossom ; nor the fruit

Fails ever there nor dies away at all

Nor through the winter nor the summer tide ;

For Zephyr blowing soft the whole year through
Makes mellow some, while some it maketh flower;
So that fruit followeth fruit and waxeth ripe,
Pomegranate on pomegranate, pear on pear,

One after other; and a vineyard blooms,

Vintage of every season, grape on grape,

Growing together ; on its floor some fruit

In a smooth place lies drying beneath the sun ;
And men are in the act of plucking more,

Whilst some is in the wine-press crush’d and trod;
Some shoots are shedding now their blossoms off,
BOOK VII.
126—153.

104. ENTERING ENTREATS QUEEN ARETE
In front, while purple clusters hang below.

But all along the utmost furrow lie
Well-ordered garden-plots, and bloom with herbs
The whole year round of every kind and hue.
Two are the fountains there, one wandering wild
Through all the pleasaunce, but the other turns
The adverse way, and runs beneath the court
Along its threshold toward the high-built house,
That the townsfolk may draw their water thence.
Such were the wondrous-lovely gifts vouchsafed
On great Alcinous’ mansion by the Gods.

Long gazed divine Odysseus marvelling there ;
Till when his heart was feasted with the sight
Quick o’er the threshold to the house he passed.
The Lords and Chieftains of Phzacia there |
He found now pouring offerings from their cups
To Argeiphontes the Far-seer, to whom
Their wont was to pour forth libations last,

At night, when they would mind them of repose

But on right through the hall the Hero pass’d

Unseen by any in the mist thick shed

Around him by Athene, till he reached

Aréte and the King Alcinoiis.

There on Arete’s knees he flung his hands,

Whilst off him back was rolled the heavenly veil ;

Aghast and mute all stared upon him there

Kneeling amidst them ; whom he thus besought:
“Arete, hear me, O Rexenor’s Child!

Behold me after many labours here

Before thy husband, at thy knees, amongst

These nobles at their banquet! Unto whom

May the Gods grant to live a happy life,

And unto each thereafter to hand down

His substance to his children with whate’er

Of honour he hath gained him in his town ;

So ye for me haste forth some escort safe

To help me quicker to my native land:

Long have I suffered, far from all things dear.”

He spoke, and in the ashes at the hearth
ALCINOUS WELCOMES HIM 105

Beside the fire sate down. In silence dumb BOOK VII.
They ’bode, till Echenzeus at the last 154—187.
(The nation’s Elder, and surpassing all

In ample knowledge of the ancient times)

Addressed them words of wisdom, and began:

“ Not to thy honour this, but all unmeet,
Alcinous, that a stranger long should sit
In ashes on the ground beside thy hearth.

These others hold them in expectancy

Of word from thee. . Haste therefore, raise and place
This stranger on a silver throne and bid

The heralds mix a wine-cup whence to pour

Our offerings forth to Him who is the stay

Of worthy suppliants—thunder-loving Zeus ;

Whilst from her store the matron brings him food.”

The manly might of King Alcinous —

Heard him, and straightway taking by the hand
Brave-hearted myriad-minded Odyseus,
Upraised him from the hearth, and seated him
On a bright throne wherefrom he moved his son
Laodamas, a princely youth, whose seat
Adjoined his father’s, and who loved him most.
Then water in a lovely golden ewer

A handmaid brought and poured it on his hands
Over a silver laver; at his side

She spread a polish’d table, and thereon

The matron of the house put bread, and brought
Dainties there also, bounteous of her store.

The noble suffering Hero ate and drank,

While to a herald King Alcinous said :

“ Mingle a bowl, Pontonous, and to each
Throughout this hall give wine, that all may pour
Libations forth to Him who is the stay
Of worthy suppliants—thunder-loving Zeus.”

He ended, and Pontonous in a bowl
Mixed honey-tasted wine and thence in cups
Gave forth to each by order of their rank.

Their offerings poured, they drank to heart’s desire ;
Whom then Alcinous thus addressed, and spake:

“Hear me, Phzeacia’s Lords and Chieftains all!

As the heart bids within me, so I say.
BOOK VIL.
188—221.

106 AND PROMISES AN ESCORT

Now go ye home, well-feasted, to repose ;

At dawn to-morrow hither we will call

More of our council, and right nobly make

This stranger welcome in our halls, and give

Rich offerings to the Gods. Thereafter we

Will turn us how to speed him safely hence,

That free of trouble or annoy our guest

Under our escort safe may swiftly gain

His fatherland, how far soe’er it lie,

Rejoicing in our help, nor suffering aught

Of toil or sorrow till he reach its shore:

Though there to suffer whatsoever his Fate

And the dread Spinners on his thread of life

Span grievous, when his mother gave him birth.

But, if thou art Immortal and from Heaven,

Then is some strange thing in the Gods’ intents.

For hitherto their wont has been to show

Before our eyes familiar, when perchance

We make the offering of our hecatombs,

Or to sit with us feasting where we sit:

Whom if perchance a wayfarer alone

Encounters, they dissemble not at all;

For we are near them by our race, most like

The Cyclops, or the Giants’ tameless brood.”
To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:

“On other thought, Alcinous, be thy care.

No likeness lies in me to heavenly Gods

In body or nature, but to mortal men ;

And for my woes I may be paralleled

With whom ye know most hapless. These at length

Rehearsing I might tell from first to last

Long sufferings through the Gods’ displeasure borne.

But now, despite my grief, allow me food.

Match’d with the loathsome belly, nought on earth

More shameless shows, compelling a man perforce

To mind him of its wants, albeit his grief

Lies heavy on his heart and wears him down.

So I have sorrow in my heart, and yet

This craving urgeth me to eat and drink,

Makes me forget my suffering for a while,

And bids me sate my hunger. One thing more
IN REPLY TO ARETE 107

I pray you, that with earliest dawn ye haste BOOK VII.
The means to bear me in my misery home, 222—253,
Even though a thousand sufferings bar the way.
Let me but see the handmaids of my house—
See them once more—-and life may leave me then!”
He ceased, to whom they all applausive bade
Give their best conduct to the stranger-guest,
For he had spoken well. When these had poured
Their offerings forth and drank to their desire,
To his own house each went away to rest.

Divine Odysseus in the hall was left,

With whom remained Arete, and the king

Godlike Alcinous, whilst retainers moved

All the appurtenance of the feast away.

Then first white-arm’d Arete ’gan address,

Since she perceived the raiment that he wore

And knew the tunic and the cloak, the work

Woven with her maidens by her own fair hands;

Therefore these wingéd words she thus addressed:
“ Myself, my guest, will question first, and ask,

Who art thou? From what nation hast thou come?

And who bestowed that raiment? Saidst thou not,

Thou hadst come hither wandering o’er the sea?”
To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:

“ Hard were the task, O Queen, to tell right through

My sorrows, for on me the heavenly Gods

Have laid their heaviest burden. What thou askst,

And what is now thy inquiry, I will tell.

An island, hight Ogygia, far aloof

Lies on the sea, and there a fair-haired witch,

Daughter of Atlas, wise Calypso dwells,

A Nymph divine, most dread, but hath no mate

To lie with, neither God, nor mortal man.

Me, most unhappy, to her hearth alone

My destiny drave ; for Zeus had struck and cloven

My galley with a white-hot flash from heaven;

So that my brave companions perished all ;

I, only, round the two-bench’d galley’s keel

Casting my arms, was tossed about nine days,

And on the tenth black night was thrown by Gods
BOOK VII.
254—288,

108 THE HERO DESCRIBES HIS SHIPWRECK

On that same island, the dread Nymph’s abode:
Where She received me and with all her heart
Loved me, and cherished, and would promise oft
Immortal and unaging all my days

She soon would make me; yet not once my mind
Was won from off my purpose. Seven long years
I tarried there imprisoned, and the robes

Divine, ambrosial, which she gave to me

Were still and ever wetted with my tears.

When the eighth year came following in its course,
She bade me go, and helped me thence, perchance
Under command from Zeus, or else the mind

Was changed within herself. But on the raft

She sent me forth, and gave me much—sweet wine
And grain, and clad me in ambrosial garb,

And a fair gentle breeze behind me breathed.

So seventeen days I fared across the sea;

On the eighteenth appeared the shadowy hills

Of this your land. For joy the dear heart leapt
Within me—ah most hapless! doomed to know
Yet closer fellowship with sorrows, heaped

Upon me by Poseidon! He uproused
Tempestuous winds, and barred all paths, and moved
A sea beyond all utterance; nor the waves

Suffered me to remain upon the raft

Longer ’mid that dire trouble, but a blast
Scatter’d it into atoms. So I came

Swimming my way across the yawning gulph

Till wind and wave had brought me to your shores.
Ev’n there the billows had harm’d me on the coast
In a rough place and on the great steep cliffs
Dashed me, but I retired some space, and swam
Back till I reached a river’s mouth—a spot
Smooth of all rocks and sheltered from the wind.
There I fell clear, and gathered up my strength.
Ambrosial night descended, and | moved

Up from the Zeus-fall’n Stream to lay me down

In a thick copse, and heaped a bed of leaves,
Where on mine eyes God showered a dreamless sleep.
So in the thicket, with a heart worn out,

I slumbered all night through, and through the morn
AND RECEPTION BY NAUSICAA 109

And through mid-day, nor till the afternoon BOOK VII.
Did that sweet sleep release me. On the strand 289—318.
The handmaids of thy daughter at their sports
I saw, and, like a Goddess in their midst,
Thy daughter. Suppliant at her feet I knelt;
Nor showed she lacking aught in gentleness,
But bare her so, as in a maid, thus young
And thus accosted, thou couldst scarce have hoped;
For youth is alway heedless. But she gave
Bread to me in abundance, and bright wine,
And bathed me, and this raiment gave besides.
Despite my trouble I have told all true.’’
Alcinous then in answer thus returned :
“Yet one thing seemly did my child not think
To do, fair stranger ; in that to our home
With her attendant maids she brought thee not;
Of all our household thou imploredst her first ”.
To whom sage-wiled Odysseus thus returned :
“ Hero, I pray thee, not for this thing chide
The blameless maiden who advised me oft
To follow her handmaidens. I refused
For shame and fear, lest haply, seeing us so,
Thou shouldst be angered. Men are quickly moved
To anger in this world for those they love.”
To whom Alcinous gave reply, and said:
“ Not such, fair stranger, in my breast the heart
As to be idly angered; due degree
Is best in all things. Hear me, Father Zeus,
Athene, and Apollo! Would that thou,
If thou art what thou seemest, and if thy mind
Be to mine own accordant, here wouldst bide,
And take my daughter, and be named my son!
If of thine own free will thou so wouldst stay,
A house and great possessions | would give:
But no Phzacian’s hand against thy will
Detains thee: Zeus, I pray, ordain not this!
Therefore, that thou mayst know this well, I keep
Departure till the morrow in my thoughts.
If then thou goést, in a slumber deep
Thou shalt be lapped, whilst o’er a sea serene
The crew drives onward, till thou gain thy land,
BOOK VII,
319—347,

110 THEY RETIRE TO REST

Thy palace, and what place soe’er thou list ;

Though farther off it be than what is called

Furthest from us, Euboea, by the crew

Who went there of our nation when they took

The fair-hair’d Rhadamanthus hence to see

Tityus, the son of Earth. With him they went

Thither and ended on a self-same day

Their voyage, free of all fatigue, complete,

And brought him back to home the following day.

Thyself shalt judge and ponder in thy heart

How far my ships and youthful crews excel

To dash the salt brine off the quick-plied oar.”
He spoke; divine Odysseus in his joy

Broke into prayer, exclaimed his name, and said:
“ May but Alcinous all he saith fulfil,

O Father Zeus, and through the fruitful earth

Glory to him unquenched—and home to me!”
So each with other they their converse held.

Meantime white-arm’d Arete bade her maids
To place within the corridor a bed,
Thereon to throw fine purple rugs, and strew
Sheeting above the rugs, and topmost lay
Soft mantles wherewithal he might be clothed.
They went outside the mansion, torch in hand;
And, when with busy work the couch was strewn,
Came to Odysseus back, and urged him thus:
“« Move thee, our guest ; thy bed hath been prepared ”’.
They spoke; and welcome was the thought of rest.

So there within the echoing corridor
On a carved bed divine Odysseus slept:
Whilst in an inner chamber of the house
Alcinous lay, and by his side the queen,
His wife, upon a couch her hands had spread.
THE PHA4ACIANS ASSEMBLE 111

ODYSSEY VIII.

With the first birth of rosy-fingered Dawn BOOK VIII.
The King Alcinous in his manhood’s might 1—26.
Rose from his bed; and brave Odysseus rose
Likewise, the Zeus-born conqueror of towns.

Alcinous led him to the market-place
‘Built for the people, to their galleys near.

They came and took their seats on smoothéd stones
Nigh to each other, whilst Athene went,

Intending great Odysseus’ safe return,

Guised like a herald of wise Alcinous,

Through all the city, and, as near each man

She took her stand, would utter this, and say:

“ Haste, O Phzacian Chieftains, noble Lords!
Into your market that ye there may ask
News of this stranger, beaten across the sea
To great Alcinous’ house; in sooth he seems
Like to Immortals for his majesty ”.

She spoke; and stirred the hearts of all who heard.

Nor long while ere the market and the seats
Were thronged with men assembled. All who viewed
Laertes’ noble son, were struck with awe;
For Pallas showered about him a grace divine
Down from his head and shoulders, making him
Taller and larger to the eye, to be
More welcome, more majestical, revered
By the Phzacians, and fulfil thereby
The tasks wherewith they soon would try his strength.

When they were gathered all in one vast throng,
Alcinous first addressed them, speaking thus:
“Hear me, Phzeacian Chieftains, noble Lords!
BOOK VIII.
27—62.

112 ALCINOUS PREPARES A SHIP

As the heart bids within me, so I say.

This stranger in his wanderings to my house

Hath come, from eastern or from western parts,

I know not who; but he implores the means

Of conduct hence and that it be secure.

Let us haste forth his escort to our wont.

For no man entering suppliant in my house

’*Bode long for lack of convoy pining here.

Launch then a black ship on the barren deep

New-built, for its first voyage; and select

Youths two and fifty from the townsfolk, such

As have been best approven. Let them bind

Oars to the locks, and disembarking share

The feast that in my halls I freely serve.

This to the crew my bidding ; but to all

Of sceptred rank I turn and ask them now

To my fair house, with banquet there to make

This stranger nobly welcome to our town.

Let none herein deny me. Let the bard

Likewise be called, divine Demodocus,

For Gods have dower’d him with surpassing gifts

To charm us, when the spirit bids him sing.”
He led the way, and all of sceptred rank

Follow’d him, whilst a herald went and sought

The bard divine. But two and fifty youths,

As he had bidden them, to the barren sea

Departing, launched a black ship on the deep,

And set the mast and sails within, and fixed

The oars through leathern loops in order due.

Then the white sails they spread, and moored the bark

Out in deep water, but themselves turned back

To the great mansion of Alcinous.

The corridors thereof, the fencéd courts,
The spacious chambers, now with men were thronged
Assembled for their pleasure, old and young.
And for his guests Alcinous slew twelve sheep,
Two slow-paced oxen, and eight white-tusk’d boars,
The which they flayed and tended with all care,
Dressing a dainty banquet. Also came
The herald near and brought the sweet-voiced bard
DEMODOCUS SINGS AT A BANQUET 113

Whom with a most exceeding love the Muse BOOK VIII.
Loved, yet ordain’d him equal weal and woe, 63—90.
Granting sweet song, bereaving of his sight :

For whom Pontonous in the feasters’ midst
Placed and against a lofty column propped

A silver-studded settle, and from pegs

Over his head suspended a string’d lyre,

Bidding him raise his hands to where it hung;
Then set a basket of bread and a fair board
Beside him, and a cup of wine, to drink

Whene’er desire might prompt him. So they all
On the rich fare before them laid their hands.
When they had full delight of food and drink,

The Muse breathed song into her bard, who sang
The glories of the Heroes in the lay

The fame whereof then mounted to high heaven—
Odysseus’ fearful strife with Peleus’ Son
Achilles—how they battled, each with each

At a high banquet given unto the Gods

With violent railing ; but rejoiced thereat

The heart of Agamemnon King of men

Seeing Achaia’s noblest thus at strife:

For, when in holy Pytho he had sought

An oracle and crossed the marble step,

Phcebus Apollo had foretold him there,

That thus it needs must be ere Troy could fall.
Then rose that billow of ruin, which was rolled
Onward by counsel of almighty Zeus,

Till Troy and Danaans were alike o’erwhelmed.

Of these things sang the much-renownéd bard.
But in strong hands Odysseus raised up high
His purple robe and let it downward fall
Over his head, to hide his countenance;

Lest the Phzacians should descry his tears
And he be shamed before them. And, whene’er
The heavenly bard ceased singing, then he dried
His tears, and lifted from his head the robe,
Would take a two-cupped goblet off the board
And make his due libation to the Gods;
But, when the bard began anew, being urged

8
BOOK VIII.
91—122.

114 ATHLETIC SPORTS

By the Phzeacian noblest to his song
(For they delighted in him), Odyseus
Then muffled up his head and wept again.
No other marked his tears; Alcinous
Alone perceived and saw him; for he sate
Hard by, and heard his heavy sobs and sighs.
Therefore he thus addressed the noble Chiefs :
“Hear me, Phzacian Chieftains, Lords renowned!
Enough of our fair banquet, and enough
Of what is best companion to a feast,
The lyre’s sweet music, have we now enjoyed.
So let us forth, and in all athlete-sports
Take practice, that our guest, returned to home,
May tell the story of our excellence
In boxing and in wrestling unsurpassed,
In nimble leaping, and in speed of foot.”
He spoke and led the way, with whom they went.
The herald then upon its pegs rehung
The sweet-string’d lyre, and led Demodocus,
Guiding him along the path which all the chiefs
Trod fain to witness with acclaim the sports.

A great crowd following, through the market-place
They passed, till in an open spot anon

_Rose to the games full many a goodly youth.

Elatreus, and Ocyalus, then rose,

Nauteus, Eretmeus, and Anchialus,

And Anabésinos, and Akronus,

Prymneus, and Thoon, and Ponteus, and the son
Of Polynaius Tekton’s son, by name
Amphialus; rose too Euryalus

The peer of slaughterous Ares ; and the youth
The fairest of the whole Phzeacian race

(After the blameless prince Laodamas)

For beauty and stature, brave Naubolides.
Likewise three sons of King Alcinous

Stood up, Laodamas, and Halius,

And godlike Klytonaius. First they proved
Their speed of foot, and from the starting-post
All made their utmost running; swiftly all
Dust-clouded flew across the plain; but far
ODYSSEUS IS CHALLENGED 115

Foremost the blameless Klytonaius ran. BOOK VIII.
Far as in fallow land one mules’-pull ploughs, 123—156.
So far from out the others first he raced

And gained the crowded goal. Anon they proved

Their strength in toilsome wrestling, and therein

Their foremost champion was Euryalus:

In leaping showed Amphialus their best,

With quoit Elatreus, and in boxing-ring

Laodamas, Alcinous’ noble son.

When they had had full pleasure in these sports,
Alcinous’ son, Laodamas began:

“ Inquire we, Friends, of this our guest, if he
Hath practised or knows aught of athletes’ games.
In figure—thighs and knees and arms above
Firm throat and mighty sinews—to the eye
He certés seems no weakling ; in the prime
He stands too of his manhood, lacking nought.
Yet have his troubles now quite pulled him down
Nothing, I deem, so badly breaks a man,

How great soe’er his vigour, as the sea.”
To whom Euryalus replied and said:
‘“‘ Aptly, Laodamas, and well thou speakst.
Go with this challenge and provoke him forth.”

Alcinous’ gallant son so heard, and went,

Stood in their midst and to Odysseus said:

‘Come forth, fair stranger, and approve thee here,
If thou art trained at all in athletes’ sports.

Such knowledge well becomes thee; greater fame
Is not in man’s existence than the deeds

Thus by his own strong feet and hands achieved.
Approve thee, rise, scatter away this grief;

Thy journey hence will not be long deferred ;

For launched the galley, and prepared the crew.”

And sage Odysseus answering thus replied:
“Why, Princes, mock ye me with this address ?

I needs must have my troubles more at heart
Than these your sports, who have endured so long
Distress and toils disastrous. And this day
Suffer me in your multitude to rest,

A suppliant to your King and all your race,
BOOK VIII.

157—187.

116 VINDICATES HIS HONOUR

Desirous only of return to home.”

Euryalus then abused him, face to face:
“ Untrained I deem thee, stranger, in the sports
That men delight in, rather like to one
Who, whilst oft sailing on an oaréd bark,
Is but the master of a trading crew,
The factor of the cargo, overseer
Of the ship’s rations and like covetous gains,
A huckster—of a truth no athlete thou!”
Odysseus, sternly eyeing him, replied:
“ No honourable thing, but like a churl
Hast thou, my host, said this. So true it is,
The Gods in perfect measure grant not gifts
Together—neither wisdom, nor fair form,
Nor power of speech. One man perchance is mean
In bodily grace, but with the gift of speech
God crowns his form, and all who see rejoice,
Rapt on him, as in full security
He speaketh, yet with sweet restraint, and shines
Pre-eminent in their gatherings ; and they gaze
As on a God when through their streets he walks.
Another haply is for beauty and form
The peer of even Immortals, but the grace
Of gentle words is wanting to his wreath.
So thou—most perfect is thy bodily shape,
No God would frame it other—yet in mind
Thou seemest empty. Howbeit, as thou hast stirred
My anger by thy most disorderly taunt,
Know me no stripling in these athlete-games,
As thou imputést ; rather amongst the first
I well might ween myself, whene’er I took
My pride in this my manhood and my arms!
Ye see me now with trouble and ill weighed down,
For much have I endured, both wars with men,
And a long struggle with the toilsome waves.
Nathless, ev’n thus, and in my grief’s despite,
I will assay me, for your words have bit
Into my soul, and ye provoke me forth.’’

He spoke, and mantled as he was, sprang up,
And seized a larger stone, more massive far
Than that the bold Phzeacians used to throw,
AND CHALLENGES IN TURN 117

And whirling hurled it from a mighty arm. BOOK VIII.

Whizzing the stone passed spinning through the air, 188—217.

So that those oarsmen for their ships renowned

Cowered beneath its flight. rom out his hand

Lightly it sped and leaped beyond the marks

Of all the others. In the guise of man

Athene placed the mark herself, and said:
“Verily, to distinguish this thy mark

Needs but a blind man’s groping, for it lies

Unmingled with the others, far the first.

Be of good cheer, O Stranger, as to this ;

For none will cast beyond, nor reach, thy throw.”
She spoke, and brave Odysseus had relief

To find one comrade friendly in that throng ;

And so with temper more elate resumed :
“ Attain to this, young Princes, then perchance

As far a throw, or farther, I will make.

In your turn now (for ye have angered me)

Let any, who hath the heart to meet me, rise

To race or box or wrestle; choice herein

I grudge not, and address me unto all

Phzacians, save Laodamas the prince;

He is my host; and with a kindly host

Who cares to combat? Worthless were the man

And foolish, who provoked an athlete’s match

Betwixt himself and one who welcomed him

Alone amongst a race of foreigners ;

His own true interest were maimed thereby.

No other I decline nor scorn to meet,

Rather desire the trial, face to face;

Since in whatever contests athletes use

1 am not ill reputed in the world.

I know the fingering of the bended bow ;

And when I shoot my arrow in a crowd

Of foemen, first will strike my man, albeit

Many the comrades at his side arrayed *

* Dr. Merry understands the comrades to be those of Odysseus and
not of his enemy ; and would refer the subsequent gwrév to the latter,
and not to Odysseus. The whole stress is thus thrown on mpéros, and
the additional trait of coolness, whilst under fire, would seem to be
lost. The Greek clearly admits of either interpretation.
BOOK VIII.
218—253.

118 ALCINOUS INTERVENES

And aiming fast against us. None with bow
Excelled me of the Achaians erst in Troy,
Save Philoctetes, when we battled there.
Of others living, who are mortal men
And eat earth’s food, I boast me unsurpassed.
With those of olden time I would not vie,
Neither with Hercules, nor Eurytas
The Aéchalian, who engaged in archery
Once with Immortals. But for that same cause
Suddenly fell great Eurytas nor saw
An old age happy in his own fair home,
Slain by renowned Apollo in his ire,
Wroth for that impious challenge with the bow.
Far as most men their arrows, so I dart
My javelin; but my feet I much misdoubt,
Lest some Phzeacian pass me in the race.
For with exceeding violence in the waves
I was but lately tossed, nor on my bark
I found fit tendance, and my limbs are slacked.”

He spoke ; they stood, discomfited and dumb ;
Only Alcinous thus replied, and said:

‘“No unbecoming words, my guest, are these,
Amongst us making manifest the worth
That still attends thee, and thy rightful ire ;
For that this youth provoked thee in the face
Of our assembly. None who hath the sense
To speak the truth will slight thy manhood more.
But understand what now I say, that so
When with thy wife and children in thy home
Thou to some other hero makést feast
Hereafter, thou mayst tell the same to him,
Remembering our true worth, what manner of arts
Zeus hath ordain’d us from our fathers’ times.
No wrestlers nor no fintsh’d boxers we,
But swift of foot, and peerless mariners,
Banquet and lyre and song our main delight,
Changes of raiment, heated baths, soft beds.
Rise then, Phzeacian dancers, show your sport,
That to his friends at home our stranger-guest
May tell the story of our excellence
In sailing, speed of foot, and dance, and song!
DEMODOCUS RECEIVES HIS LYRE 119

But let a herald quickly go, and fetch BOOK VIII.
The bard Demodocus his sweet-string’d lyre, 254—279.
Which haply in my halls was left behind.”
Godlike Alcinous spoke; the herald rose
To fetch from out the palace the sweet lyre;
The while the umpires, nine in all, stood up,
Men chosen from the townsfolk to bestow
On all such gatherings their most careful heed ;
Who now made smooth a space for dancing swept,
And round it broadened a fair even ring.
Ere long the herald brought Demodocus
The lyre, and to the midst the minstrel went,
Whilst round him in a circle came and stood
Such striplings as were in their youth’s first flower
And in the dance best-trained: and these anon
A lovely measure beat: Odysseus gazed
In marvel at their ever-twinkling feet.

Running his fingers o’er the strings the bard
Sang Ares’ and fair Aphrodité’s loves ;

Ares and Aphrodite—how they lay
Together in her lord Hephzstus’ bed ;
He won her with his gifts and dalliance gay,
Shaming Hephestus by his lustihead ;
Whom yet the Sun perceived, the God of day,
Lying together; and straight went and said
To King Hepheestus all that he had seen,
Grieving his heart, and moved his jealous spleen.

And when He heard it, to his smithy straight
He passed, much mischief smouldering in his mind,
And set a mighty anvil nigh the grate,
And forged him threads of iron, strong to bind
A giant down, and made them in his hate
{Immovable from whom they once entwined ;
So went into the chamber where the bed,
The loved bed of his marriage-joys, was spread.

There in a circle o’er the posts he wound
The chains, and from the roof fixed others high,
120 AND SINGS THE LAY

Book vil. That, like a spider’s web, they hung all round,
280-—310. So finely forged, and set so privily,
Not even a God could spy them. Thus he bound
His toils about the bed, and travelled by,
Saying he would to Lemnos, where the shrine
Stands the most haunted by his Power divine.

Gold-charioted Ares not in vain
Held watch, and straight beheld him so depart,
And for fair Cytheréa’s love full fain
Down to the mansion of the God of art
Quick flew. She likewise came, and met again
Her lover in her lord’s own house apart,
Leaving her father Zeus enthroned above ;
Ares embraced her hand, and spake his love :

“ Dearest, disport we now in free delight ;

Not in his home Hephestus, but hath hied
Haply to Lemnos’ isle, clean out of sight,

Off to the barbarous Sintians.” She replied,
Well-pleased, consenting ; and, with no affright,

They laid them in that chamber, side by side:
And straight the net closed o’er their dear embrace,
Nor could they stir nor lift a limb for grace!

Not till it could not be escaped they learned
Their trouble, and lay sullen, quite undone.

Ere long the far-famed Halt-foot God returned
Nor went at all to Lemnos, for the Sun

Kept watch and told him all. Most hotly burned
The angry soul within him, when anon

He stood in savage mood within the door,

And shouted to the Gods from heart most sore :

“ Haste, Zeus our Father! Hither, all who dwell
In bliss eternal! Deeds ye shall behold
Well worth your laughter—unendurable !
Ever to me is Aphrodite cold,
Slighting me for my lameness ; yet She well
Loves bloody Ares, fair, and over-bold,
And brave to look at, and straight-limbed—whilst I
Was but a weakling from my infancy.
OF ARES AND APHRODITE 121

Yet to whose blame’ should this be credited BOOK VIII.
Save those who ’gat me? Would I ne’er had been! 311—334,
Behold these happy Lovers in my bed!
What marvel if the sight should move my spleen?
Not for a moment on a couch so spread
Wiill they find comfort in that sleep, I ween,
Though great the passion be when lovers meet ;
Rather for rising they will soon entreat:

But there my chain shall hold them evermore,
Nor my craft loose them, till her Father pay
The dowry back in full which I before
Pledged me to give him, when, in evil day,
I took his daughter—even this shameless whore,
So fair, and yet so heartless!’ Thus his say
He ended; and the Gods obeyed his call,
O’er the brass pavement hurrying to his hall.

Poseidon came, the Shaker of the earth;

And Hermes, helpfully to man inclined ;
Apollo, Leto’s most renownéd birth,

Lord of the bow; and others with one mind
Glad to a new occasion of their mirth;

Only the Deities of female kind
Remained for shame aloof. And when they view’d
All in his toils the two imprison’d lewd,

A laughter inextinguishable rose

Amongst the Gods, the givers of good things,
Praising Hephzstus’ art against his foes

And all the cunning of those coiling rings,
Wherein the guilty pair he did enclose:

And each thus spoke his own imaginings :
“Ill deeds pay ill; not always is the race
Unto the swift ; Hephzstus, slow of pace,

And halt of foot, doth Ares over-reach,
Though swiftest he on this Olympian crest.
He owes the adulterer’s fine.” Thus each with each
They stood conversing; but amongst the rest
Apollo turn’d to Hermes, and made speech:
BOOK VIII.
335—361.

122 CAUGHT IN HEPHAESTUS’ NET

“ Giver of all good fortune, Guide most blest,
Hermeias! Wouldst thou well-content abide
Lying by golden Aphrodite’s side,

For all that weight of iron and the chain?”
And thus great Argeiphontes made reply:
«« Aye, King Apollo! Would were mine that pain!
With golden Aphrodite might I lie,
Thrice—thrice those endless bonds I well were fain
To carry, nor should reck, though every eye
Amongst you, God or Goddess, on me gazed!”
Ending, a laugh amongst the Gods he raised.

To Poseidaion only came no smile ;
But ever of famed Hephzstus he besought
To loose great Ares from the iron wile ;
With wingéd words upon him thus he wrought:
“ Loose him, and, as thou biddst, for this his guile
Before the Immortals in full conclave brought
I gage me he shall pay thee all thy due”.
But thus the far-famed Halt-foot answer’d true:

“Nay, great Poseidon, I must say thee nay:
Ill-doers’ sureties are but ill to trust.
How could I hold thee in like manner at bay,
If Ares, fleeing at once the atonement just
And these my fetters, once gat clear away ?”’
To whom Poseidon: “ Nay then—since I must—
If Ares flees and shirks the honest debt,
By mine own self it shall, I swear, be met”.

Then the famed Halt-foot yielded, well-content:
“It were not seemly, and the strife were vain,
For me to oppose thee longer; I consent”.
And, as he spoke, his might undid the chain.
Loosed from the bonds, wherein so sorely pent
They long were lying, to their height the twain
Sprang each away from other; off they flew
And hid their faces from the mocking crew ;

Ares to Thrace and many a bloody moil
ODYSSEUS PRAISES THE DANCING 123

Of battle there; but She across the brine BOOK VIII.
To Cyprus, where in Paphos’ fruitful soil 362—392.
Are rear’d her fragrant altar and her shrine;
Whom there her Graces bathed, and laved with oil
Ambrosial, such as sprinkleth limbs divine,
And deck’d in splendid raiment, spun of gold,
Exceeding fair, and wondrous to behold.

The glorious minstrel sang, and ended thus:
Whom with enraptured heart Odysseus heard,
As did those others of Phzacian birth,

The long-oar’d race of mariners renown’d.

Next to the bidding of Alcinous
Laodamas and Halius rose to dance
Alone together ; for no others vied ;
With their perfection. In their hands they took
A well-wrought purple ball, which Polybus
A skilful craftsman had prepared; and this
One, leaning backward, into the dim clouds
Threw, and the other springing off the ground
With ease recaptured, ere his feet touch’d earth.
Ending this trial of the up-thrown ball,
Then with smooth interchanges to and fro
They danced a lovely measure ; in a ring
The others stood about them, beating time,
So that the stamping of their feet rose clear.
And brave Odysseus to Alcinous said:
‘‘T{fustrious King of all this people! Thou
Didst boast thy gymnasts in the dance supreme ;
And, verily, the boast is proven true;
1 marvel, in my admiration lost!’
He spoke; Alcinous of his stalwart strength,
Rejoicing, thus addressed the mariners:
“Hear me, Phzeacian Chieftains, noble Lords!
Of mind discreet our guest appears to be;
On whom, as is but due, let us bestow
A gift memorial of his sojourn here.
Twelve in this nation are the sceptred Kings,
And mine own self the thirteenth; let us each
Bring forth one change of raiment, well-woven cloak
BOOK VIII.
393—426.

124 RETURNS TO THE HOUSE AND

And tunic, and one bar of precious gold.
Before him all together let us bring,
That he may move to supper with full hands
And with a heart well-pleased. Euryalus
Will also with a gift and gentle words
Content him; for he spake unmeaning taunts.”
He ceased, to whom all gave applause, and sent
Each King his herald to bring out the gifts.
But thus Euryalus replied, and said:
“My Lord Alcinous, our illustrious King!
Fain would I so content him, and will give
This sword of whetted brass with silver hilt ;
The scabbard is with new-sawn ivory bound ;
Complete atonement may he find therein.”
Speaking, he laid the silver-hilted sword
Into Odysseus’ hands, and spake these words:
“O noble Guest, be welcome; and, if aught
Was said to thy dishonour, let the winds
Waft it away! My prayer is, that the Gods
May grant thee to thy wife and home again ;
Long hast thou suffered far from all things dear.”’
And sage Odysseus made reply, and said:
“Thee also I salute, and may the Gods
Vouchsafe their blessing ; never feel thou cause
Hereafter of regret for this good sword
Which thou hast given me with atoning words”.
He spoke, and o’er his shoulders belted on
The silver-studded brand.
The sun now sank,
And all the splendid gifts before him stood.
Thence they were carried to Alcinous’ house
By the King’s heralds, where his princely sons
Received and by their honoured mother’s side
Set their fair burden down. The stalwart strength
Of King Alcinous led the others in,
Who entered and on high-built thrones took seats.

Then to Arete spoke Alcinous:
“ Rise, wife, and bring some fine-carved box, the best
Thou hast, and put a tunic and a cloak
Inside it. Place a vessel on the fire
IS ENRICHED BY GIFTS 125

And for his use heat water: let him first BOOK VIII.
Be bathed, and then, surveying these rich gifts, 427—457.
He will the more delight him in our feast
And in the chanting of our minstrel’s voice.
And thereunto | add this golden cup,
This chalice, whence hereafter pouring forth
His offerings to the Gods immortal, he
May keep me in remembrance all his days.”
He spoke, and to his word Arete bade
The handmaids of the palace quickly set
A massy tripod-caldron on the fire ;
Who placed the vessel on a blazing fire,
Therein poured water, and lit logs beneath ;
Up round the bellying caldron curled the flames ;
The water waxéd hot. Meantime, the queen
Brought from her closet a fair-carved box and put
Within it all the gifts the Chiefs had given,
The gold and raiment, adding thereunto
Her own, a fine-spun tunic and a cloak:
Then She addressed him with these wingéd words:
“ See well the lid thyself, and o’er it twine
Thy private knot, lest haply, when thou sleepst
A happy sleep, returning o’er the sea
Unconscious, some one injure thee herein ”.
When the brave-suffering Hero heard those words,
He fitted firm the lid, and made it fast
With that twined knot which he had learned of late
From queenly Circé. Soon the matron came
And bade him to the bath and there be bathed.
Gladly the heated waters of the bath
He welcomed ; for such tendance to his limbs
Was all unwonted from the day he left
Fair-haired Calypso’s grotto; there such heed
Ceaseless, as on a God bestowed, he found.
When they had bathed and anointed him with oil,
The handmaids o’er him threw a well-woven cloak
And tunic; and, so robed, he issued forth
As to rejoin the crowd of revellers.

But by a column of the well-built roof
Nausicaa in her heavenly beauty stood,
BOOK VIII.
458—490.

126 FAREWELL TO NAUSICAA

And as Odysseus came before her eyes
Marvelled for admiration ; and she said:
“‘] hail thee, Guest ; and, when thou art returned
To thine own native land, remember me;
I claim this, as my salvage for thy life”.
To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:
“ Nausicaa, King Alcinous’ lovely child ;
Let but the Lord of thunder, Here’s spouse,
Grant me at last the hour of my return,
And day by day thereafter unto thee,
As to a Goddess, I will pay my vows:
Thou wast the saviour of my life, sweet maid”.

He spoke, and to a throne beside the King
Passed and sate down. Already to the feast,
The wine was mixed, the portions meted out,
When with the much-loved bard Demodocus
The herald entering placed him on a seat
Midmost, against a lofty column propped.

Then sage Odysseus carved from off the chine
Large slices of the flesh of white-tusk’d boar

(Yet was much left thereon untouched, and rich
The fat on either side), and thus began:

“« Haste, Herald, to Demodocus, and take

This mess, that he may eat, to whom I send

My salutation, wretched though I be.

For of all men upon this earth the bards

Have honour and reverence for their portion due ;
To whom the heavenly Muse doth teach her strains,
Of the great love She beareth to all bards.”

He spoke ; the herald took and put the meat
In the blind Hero’s hands: Demodocus
Well-pleased, received and ate it.

All laid hands
Upon the dainty fare before them spread ;
When they were satisfied with meat and drink,
Odysseus then addressed Demodocus :

“ Above all other men, Demodocus,

I praise thee most, to whom the Zeus-born Muse
Or the great King Apollo taught thine art.

Too truly hast thou sung Achaia’s woe,

Too truly all the deeds and the distress,
THE LAY OF THE WOODEN HORSE = 127

The labours, of Achaia’s sons, as though BOOK VIII.
Thyself hadst been amongst them or hadst heard 491—520.
The tale from some one present. Now take up
Another lay, and sing the Wooden Horse
With its equipment ; which Epeius built
By Athenaié’s help, and Odyseus
Took to Troy’s citadel—an ambush fraught
With the brave men who sacked proud Ilion’s towers.
If these things thou recount me as they fell,
Then will I spread abroad through all the world
Thy gift from favouring Gods, thy voice divine.”
He ended, and the bard by Gods inspired
Began, and manifested forth his power,
Taking the lay up, when the Argive host
Firing their huts aboard their well-benched barks
Departed ; but a remnant, in the horse
Concealed, by famed Odysseus led, were couched
Already in the Trojan market-place ;
For to their citadel the men of Troy
Themselves had haled it. There it stood; but they
Sate round it, all in long debate and doubt,
Whom three divided counsels pleased alike—
To sunder, axe in hand, the hollow mass—
To drag it on and hurl it down the crags—
To leave it, a great trophy dedicate
Unto their Gods—each counsel pleased, but this
The last was now about to come to pass:
For Fate had doomed their ruin from the hour
When that huge wooden Horse first entered Troy,
Holding in ambush hidden the brave Chiefs
Of Argos, and for Ilion fraught with death.
He sang too, how Achaia’s sons destroyed
And sack’d the city, from their hollow lair
Within the Horse outpouring, and how each
Bare his own part in ravage of the town,
But how Odysseus, fierce as Ares, turned
With godlike Menelaus on the house
Of prince Deiphobus; and there (he said)
After much daring in most bloody fight
Odysseus conquered, by Athene’s grace.
BOOK VIII.
521—854.

128 ALCINOUS ASKS OF THE HERO

So sang the glorious Minstrel of these things:

With grief Odysseus inly was consumed.
Tears dropped from either eyelid down his cheeks.
Ev’n as in tears a woman falling clasps
Her husband, who before his people’s eyes
Hath perished for his children and his home ;
And she hath seen him in his agony,
And wildly across his body showering herself
Lies shrieking, till her enemies lead her off,
Pricking her with their lances from behind,
To slavery, and to bear distress and toil,
While her fair cheeks thenceforward fall away
In grief most piteous ; such the piteous tears
Odysseus shed.

The others marked him not
So weeping, but Alcinous saw, who sate
Quite near, and heard his heavy sighs and sobs.
Therefore he thus address’d the assembled Chiefs:

“Hear me, Phzeacian Chieftains, Lords renown'd!

Now let the minstrel silence the sweet lyre;
For not to all acceptable the song.
Since we have supped and since Demodocus
Stood up, our noble guest hath never ceased
From bitter tears and sorrowing ; great indeed
This trouble that o’erclouds his inmost soul.
Let the bard therefore cease, that host and guest
May take delight together, both alike,
As were more seemly. All that we have done,

-The conduct safe, the gifts of our true love

Bestow’d—we did to please our honoured guest
For guests and suppliants are as brothers held
By all who make to wisdom near approach.
Conceal not in a too suspicious mind

What I would ask thee; speech were wiser far.
Declare the name which yonder in thy home
Thy mother and father gave thee, and thy friends,
Thy fellow-citizens, and dwellers round,

Name thee withal. For, whether good or bad,
No man is utterly nameless in the world

To which he enters, but all parents set

Some name on every offspring from its birth.
HIS NAME AND COUNTRY 129

Also thy land, thy people, and thy town BOOK VIII.
Tell me, that thither, without let, our ships 555—586.
May bear thee, aiming straight with minds inform’d.
No pilots need the swift Phzeacian ships,

No rudders, such as other galleys use,

Themselves instinct with knowledge of the thoughts
Of the brave crews aboard them, knowing too

All cities, all rich regions of mankind,

So that they scud self-guided o’er the deep,
Safe-wrapt in cloud and vapour, without fear

Of any wreck or ruin. Yet of yore

My father King Nausithous I have heard

Utter his warning, how Poseidon waxed

Indignant, that we give to all who come

An unendangered escort; and some day

The God would crush a brave Phzacian ship
Returning from such service, and up-heave

A mountain that would cover up our town.

Thus to his people oft the agéd King;

It rests upon the pleasure of the God

To render void, or bring to pass his words.

Speak freely, therefore; tell me all things true,
Where thou hast wandered from thy course astray,
What regions thou hast visited of men ;

Tell me both of themselves and of their towns,
Who were unrighteous, savage, unreclaimed,

Who kindly, and of temper dear to Gods.

Say further why thou takest so much to heart

The tale of Ilion and the Danaan Chiefs;

The very cause, why Gods have wrought and spun
Destruction on the thread of mortal life,

Is that high song may be to after-times.

Have any at Ilion perished of thy kin,

A brother brave or father of thy wife,

Since, next to our own children and our blood,
These are to men the dearest? Or, perchance
Was he some friend, of loving heart and true?

Not less that even a brother grows endeared

A comrade, when his heart is sound and true.”
BOOK Ix.
1—26.

130 ODYSSEUS DECLARING HIMSELF

ODYSSEY IX.

To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:
« Alcinous, of this people sovran King!
Of more delight I should esteem it, still
To hearken to a minstrel of the voice
Which this man hath—the peer of Gods he seems.
In truth I know no greater happiness
Than when, while joyance runs throughout a town,
Its Chieftains sit by order of their rank
At banquet in their hall, and hearken song:
The tables laden at their side with meats,
Cup-bearers drawing from the bowl sweet wine
And filling unto each his own gold cup—
Fairest of earthly scenes this seems to me.
Thy heart is set on asking of my woes,
That I may grieve the more: for, ah, what first,
What sequel, and what last, should I rehearse
Of all the thousand ills the heavenly Gods
Have laid upon my shoulders? Let me first
Tell you my name, that ye may know it, and, though
I dwell far off, yet, if I save my life,
The bond ’twixt host and guest may link us still.
I am Odysseus, famed Laertes’ son,
Who for all manner of wise device am known
To all men, and my glory mounts to heaven.
My dwelling is in sparkling [thaca,
Where Neriton, with nodding forests, stands
Conspicuous ; but around it other isles,
Woody Zacynthus, and Dulichium,
And Samé, lie together, each to each

uite near; of these the highest, Ithaca,

~~ Lies bedded in the sea and westward shows,

But they to eastward and the rising Sun:
NARRATES HIS ADVENTURES 131

A rugged isle, but nursing noble men ; BOOK IX,
Nor can I ever a sweeter sight behold 2759.
Than my own country. In her hollow grot

Wooing me for her spouse the stately Nymph

Calypso would have held me; in like wise

Wooing me for her spouse the lovely witch

fGean Circe kept me; yet not once

They won me from my purpose. Sweeter thing

Than his own land and household is not found

Elsewhere by man, however sumptuously

In far and foreign countries he be lodged.

Now will I tell you of the sad return

Ordain’d me, as I came from Troy, by Zeus.

“From Ilion first the wind conveyed me on
To Ismarus and the Cicons; there I slew
The people, and sacked their city, whence we took
And parted out their women and their wealth,
That none should lack his portion of the spoil.
Then I would fain have bidden a speedy flight,
But in their folly none would hearken me ;
And on the seashore all remained, and drank
Much wine, and slaughtered for their feast fat sheep
And heavy-gaited oxen; till, meanwhile,
The Cicons of that city who had fled
Called other neighbouring Cicons—those who dwelt
More inland, braver, and in number more,
Well-taught to combat off a car their foes,
Or, if need be, to battle hand to hand.
In multitude like leaves and flowers in spring,
Hid in the morning’s mist this people came.
That day the evil doom by Zeus ordain’d
Beset us first—ill-fated as we were
To suffer many sorrows! Firm we stood
And fought beside our arrowy ships, and threw
Our brazen-headed javelins on the foe.
While yet ’twas morn, and day increased in heaven,
Despite their numbers we repelled them still ;
But when the Sun ’gan stoop him toward the hour
When weary oxen from the plough are loosed,
Then the Ciconians beat the Achaians down
BOOK Ix,
60—92.

132. WITH CICONS AND LOTOS-EATERS

And press’d us sore, till, ere we re-embarked,
Six well-arm’d men from each fair galley’s crew
Had perished ; we the rest escaping fled.

“ Glad from death’s clutches, sorrowing for the slain,
Onward, with anguish at our hearts, we sailed,

Nor did my well-trimm’d galleys leave that coast
Ere we had thrice invoked by name each man

Who slain by Cicons on the field had fallen.

But Zeus, the Ruler of the skies, anon

With whirlwind fierce beyond all utterance roused
Boreas against us, and enwrapt the sea

In clouds with earth confounded. Night rose black
In heaven ; and headlong borne the galleys plunged,
With sails rent piecemeal by the tempest’s might.
These we hauled down and furled within the hulls
Fearing an utter wreck, but steered the fleet
Landward, and rowed them with what speed we might.
Two nights, two days, we struggled so, and still
Consumed our own hearts in fatigue and toil ;

Till, when the fair-tress’d Dawn had perfected .

The third bright day, we set our masts again

And rested, with white sails outspread, and let

The wind and pilots guide us. And perchance

I then without more hurt had reached my home,
Had not the waves and current and fierce blast

Of Boreas, as I doubled round the cape

Of Malea, thrust me from Cythera back.

“Thence for nine days across the teeming deep
The tempest bare me; on the tenth we gained
The land of Lotos-eaters, men who feed
On vegetable herbs. We went ashore
And drew fresh water there, and made repast
Each crew beside their galley ; and, when all
Had eaten well, | chose two comrades out
(Adding a third, a herald) to go forth
And make inquiry what that race might be.
They went and joined the Lotos-eaters there ;
Nor had the Lotos-eaters any thought
To harm our comrades, but of Lotos-flower
TILL HE REACHES AN ISLAND 133

Gave them to chew; and of that honied fruit BOOK Ix.
Whoso did taste was fain no more to bring 93—125.
To us his tidings nor to move him thence:

One only longing in his heart remained,

Stretched with the Lotos-eaters there to lie,

Eating the Lotos, careless of return!

Therefore I dragged them back, in tears, perforce,

And bound them ’neath the benches fast aboard,

But bade the others of my company

Haste also to the galleys, lest perchance

They taste the Lotos and of our return

No more bethink them. All obeying quick

Embarked, and on the benches taking seat

In order, smote the billows with their oars.

“ Onward, with sorrow at our hearts, we sailed,
And reached the region of the Cyclops’ race,
Giants, misproud, ungovern’d ; and they dwell
Trusting for all things to the immortal Gods,
Nor planting aught, nor ploughing ; all things grow
Unsown, spontaneous there ; wheat, barley, and vine,
Yielding abundant harvest, fed with rain
Bounteous from heaven. But neither judgment-seats
The Cyclops know, nor councils, but inhabit
Solitary on the peaks of mountains, each
In his own cavern, ruling there his wives
And children—of his fellows heedless quite.

“A little island, neither near nor far,
Lies in the offing of their harbour, clothed
With forest ; ibex there unnumbered breed,
For tread of man disturbs them not, nor ever
Enters that place the hunter, keen to endure
All labour in the woodland for his prey
Haunting the mountain summits. No confine
Of pasture or of fallow-land is there,
But evermore unsown, unploughed, the soil
Vacant of men feeds only bleating goats.
Ne’er comes a galley, for the Cyclops race
Have no bench’d vessels, nor artificers
Amongst them, so to build red-ribbéd barks,
BOOK IX,
126—161,

134 ADJOINING THE CYCLOPS

That else might work their functions, visiting
The cities of the world, for intercourse

Such as folk use beyond the sea, whereby

This barren isle had been a homestead fair.

Not ill by nature, it would yield all fruits

In season; many a meadow along the shore

Of the grey ocean lies, well-water’d, soft,
Wherein imperishable vines might grow ;
Smooth field it boasts for tillage; deep the crop
Would show at season to the reaper’s hands.
For rich below the surface sinks the glebe.
There too a harbour, of smooth anchorage ;

No need for cable there, nor mooring-stone,
Nor to attach the hawser; but a ship,

Once put to port, might wait unwatched, secure,
Its crew’s desire, or till the wind should blow.
And sparkling at the harbour’s head runs down
A fount of water from a cave, and round

About grow poplars. Into this we sailed,

Some deity through the darkness of that night
Guiding us safe, for unto mortal ken

Nothing showed clear; about the galleys thick
The mist lay, nor the moon shone forth in heaven,
But clouds concealed it, so that none descried
The island or the long waves’ billowy roll
Beating the coast, till there our galleys touched.
Gladly we put to port, and furled the sails,

And, disembarking on the shingly shore,

In slumber bode the rise of Dawn divine.

“With the first birth of rosy-fingered Dawn
In wonder all the island through we roamed.
Children of A2gis-bearing Zeus fair Nymphs
Awoke, to furnish for my comrades food,
The chamois of the mountains. Straight we gat
From out our ships bent bows, and long-barb’d darts
And ranged us in three companies to shoot.
Nor long ere Heaven vouchsafed full dainty sport.
Twelve were the galleys following me; to each
Fell ibex nine; to me alone fell ten.
Therefore the whole day through till set of sun
WHENCE HE DESCRIES A GIANT 135

On that exhaustless food and on sweet wine BOOK IX.
Feasting we sate; for from our galleys’ stores 162196.
Red wine had not yet perished; when we sacked

The Cicons’ sacred city, every man

Had fil?’'d him copious jars from out their casks.

So there upon the Cyclops’ neighbouring land

Gazing, we sate, and saw their homesteads’ smoke,

And heard their voices and their goats and sheep;

Till, when the Sun sank down and darkness came,

We laid us all to slumber on the shore.

“With the first birth of rosy-fingered Dawn
I call’d a council, and addressed them thus:

‘Here let my other comrades dear remain;
Whilst I with mine own crew and galley go
To make assay what manner of men may be
Those we see yonder; savage, unreclaim'd,
Unrighteous folk; or hospitably bent,

Kindly, and of a nature dear to Gods.’

I spoke, and went aboard my bark, and bade
My comrades follow and loose the ropes astern.
They came, and, on the benches taking seat
In order, smote the billows with their oars.

As we approached the neighbouring land, we spied,
Close to the sea and on the country’s edge,

A cavern, lofty-roof’d, its mouth o’erhung

With laurel bushes. Sheep and goats by night
Lay there; but, round about, a courtyard, built
Of quarried stones and trunks of pine-trees tall
And of broad-foliaged oaks. A monstrous man
Basked in its midst, who in that solitude
Tended his flocks, nor mingled with his kind,
But dwelt in lawless habit quite aloof.
Monstrous, of size miraculous, his form ;

He seemed not like to man that eateth corn,
But to some pillar in a mountain-chain,

Some solitary summit, forest-hung !

“TI left the others, and bade them guard the bark ;
But picked out twelve, the bravest of my crew,
And started, carrying with me a goat-skin, full
BOOK Ix,
197—229.

136 WHOSE CAVE NEXT DAY HE VISITS

Of a sweet-savour’d wine, black-hued, the gift

Of Maion, who once watched on Ismarus,

Son of Evanthes and Apollo’s priest.

For we had spared him and his wife and child,
Reverencing the priest who worshipped in the grove,
Phoebus Apollo’s precinct. Splendid gifts

He therefore brought me, talents of wrought gold
Seven, and a cup all silver, and this wine

Drawn for me in twelve jars—a heavenly brew,
Potent, unmix’d, delicious. In his house

No home-born slave, no servant, ever had known
This wine, to drink it; he alone, his wife,

And one true matron knew it. And, whene’er
He took the honey-tasted draught thereof, —
He fill’d one cup, but added thereunto

Of water twenty measures: off the cup

So odorous, so divine, the fragrance rose,

’Twas irksome to abandon. This I took

In a large skin, and into a wallet put

‘Other provision: for my rash heart planned

A visit to that Giant who was clad
In such enormous strength, and seemed so wild,
Not knowing aught of righteousness or law.

“ Hastily into the cave we went, but there
We found him not; he then was pasturing
His flocks afield. We wondering gazed about
Inside the cavern. Laden were the crates
With cheeses; crowded all the pens with lambs
And kids, but each sort in its pen distinct ;
The firstlings of the year were all apart,
As were the summer, and the fresh-dropt, lambs.
Swam with rich cream the vessels, pails and bowls,
Wherein he did the milking. And my men
Besought me strongly then to get us back
With booty of the cheeses; we might drive
Safely the lambs and kids from out the pens
Swift to our ship, and.put well out to sea:
To whom I would not hearken, though they gave
The better counsel, but abode, to see
The Giant, and what gifts he might bestow.
THE CYCLOPS DEMANDS THEIR NAMES 187

No dainty gifts of welcome (woe is me!) BOOK Ix.
To my companions would he deal anon! 230—262.

“Therefore we made our offerings on a fire,
And of the cheeses took and ate, and sate
Waiting within the cavern, till he came
Driving his flocks, and bearing burden huge
Of dry wood—torch and fagot for his fire.
This with a crash he threw outside the den.
But we within a corner shrank for fear,
Whilst he inside the spacious cavern drave
All the milch-flock, but at the doorway left
The he-goats and the rams, shut in their folds ;
Then heaved aloft and in the door hurled down
A rock enormous: from the threshold this
Not two and twenty well-built four-wheel’d wains
Would serve to drag; so huge, impassable,
The rock he made his barrier. Taking seat,
He next ’gan milk the ewes and bleating goats
In turn ; and put its nursling under each.
Half the white milk he curdled and took up
And laid in woven sieves aside, but half
He poured in vessels near, that he might have
To drink anon—milk ready for his meal.
When with all speed he had performed these tasks,
He lit a fire, and saw, and questioned us:

‘My stranger-guests, who are ye? Whence and

whither

Sail ye your watery way? For traffic fraught ?
Or roam ye forth at random, being a band
Of plunderers on the deep, who stake their lives
Upon their venture, roving free, but bear
Misfortune to all men of other race ?’

He spoke; our hearts were broken quite for fear
Of his deep voice and of himself so huge ;
Nathless in answer I made speech, and said:

“We are Achaians, by all manner of winds
Beaten from Troy across the sea’s broad gulf,
Seeking return to home, but other-ward
And other paths have travelled; for the will
Of Zeus hath thus ordain’d it. Of the host,
BOOK Ix.
263—298.

138 DEVOURS TWO OF THE PARTY

‘That followed Agamemnon Atreus’ son

We were a part; and under heaven his fame
Stands highest, in that he despoiled so great

A town, and laid so many nations low.

Now prostrate at thy knees we fall, and seek

Some kindly welcome, or such other gift

As guests may justly claim. O noble Host,

We kneel thy suppliants ; reverence thou the Gods:
For in his own high charge Zeus takes the cause
Of suppliants, and attends the claims of guests.’

I spoke ; but he remorselessly replied :
‘Stranger, thou art but simple, or thou comest
From very far, if thou wouldst bid me fear
The Gods or shun their anger. Know that we
The Cyclops reck not of immortal Gods
Nor of great Zeus, ourselves being mightier far.
Not for regard of enmity from Zeus
Should I show mercy to thy men or thee
Unless my heart so will’d it. Tell me this:
Where, when thou started, didst thou moor thy bark ?
Upon the country’s further coast, or near?’

He spoke, to tempt me; I, of mind expert,
Perceived it, and returned him guile for guile:

‘Earth-shaking Poseidaion dashed and wrecked
Our galley on the rocks that wall your coast,
Against a promontory on which the wind
Bare us; but I with these escaped the death.’

I spoke ; he gave no answer, pitiless,

But springing on my comrades threw his hands
On two, and gripped them, as a man picks whelps
From a wolf's litter, and against the ground
Dashed their heads down, whose brains bedewed the earth.
Then limb from limb he cut them up, and made
His meal, but ate as lion eats, nor left

Bone, marrow, flesh, or entrail, undevoured.
Beholding that his barbarism, in tears

We sate and lifted up our hands to Zeus,

Vainly, all lost in impotent despair.

When he had glutted his huge stomach full

With flesh of man and draughts of unmix’d milk,
Stretching him out at length amidst his flocks
ODYSSEUS MEDITATES REVENGE _ 139

He laid him down inside the den, and I BOOK IX.
In commune with mine own brave heart devised 299—330.
Near to approach him, falchion off my hip

Drawn sharp and ready, and to try the spot,

Where midriff touches liver, ’neath the breast ;

Only another caution held me back,

That thus sheer death were on ourselves brought down

Also, for we could never have thrust aside

From out the cavern’s mouth the enormous stone

Wherewith he blocked the entry. So, in tears

And dread, we bode the rise of Dawn divine.

“With the first birth of rosy-fingered Dawn,
His fire rekindled, he ’gan milk again
His famous flocks, in order due, and put
Its nursling under each. And when this task
Was hastened through and ended, two of us
Again he seized and made his meal thereof.
His fast so broken, from the cavern forth
He drave the cattle, moving with all ease
The barrier, and as lightly placed it back
As on a quiver he might place the lid.
Up the hillside he turned and whistled on
His sheep and goats, and left me imprisoned there,
In perilous meditation, how perchance
I could avenge me by Athené’s help.
This seemed the wisest counsel to my mind.
The Cyclops’ giant club was on the ground,
Near a pen lying, hewn of olive wood,
Still green, which, when it dried anon, would be
His staff, and, as we saw it, it appeared
Great as the mast is in a black-hulled ship
Of twenty oars, built wide for merchandise
And for adventure on the dangerous deep;
Such length it had, such thickness, in our sight.
From this I cut a fathom’s length away
And bade my comrades plane it clean, who soon
Made it all smooth, and with mine own hands I
Sharpened its point, and seasoned it, in fire
Dipt, and then laid it heedfully aside,
Under the litter hid, which thick and deep
BOOK Ix.
331—363.

140 TEMPTS THE CYCLOPS WITH WINE

Lay spread about the cavern. Next, I bade
Cast lots who should with me the venture make
To lift and in his forehead’s eye drive deep

The stake whenever slumber o’er him fell.

They gained the lot, whom I| myself would fain
Have chosen, four in number, | the fifth.

“ At eve returning with his full-fleeced flocks,
He left none in the outer court this time,

But drove them all within the spacious cave,
Whether for fear of plunderers, or perchance
Zeus so ordained it. Then he lifted up

And put the enormous barrier to the door,

Took seat, and milked the ewes and bleating goats
In turn, and under each its nursling placed.

His daily tasks thus ended with all speed,

Two more of us he seized and made his meal.
Thereafter I brought nigh a wooden bowl

Of the black wine, and made my proffer thus:

‘Since thou hast eaten of man’s flesh so well,
Take, Cyclops, of this wine, and drink, and learn
What beverage sweet our galley late contained.

I brought it for an offering unto thee,

If haply thou wouldst show us pity, and help

Our voyage home. But thou art gone clean mad
Beyond all human sufferance—ah, most cruel!
How shall hereafter any of mortal race

Visit thee, who hast done these monstrous deeds?’

So spake I; he, accepting, drained the bowl.
Pleased beyond measure with the savoury wine,
He questioned me anew, and spoke, and said:

“Give me yet more, and freely ; also tell
Thy name, that I in turn may give to thee
Some token of my grace for thy delight.

The fruitful earth to all the Cyclops yields
Grapes in full clusters, fed by rains from heaven ;
But this from nectar and ambrosia came.’

He spoke; I brought again the bright-hued wine,
And thrice I brought and gave it, thrice he drained
The bowl in drunken folly. When the wine
Had clouded o’er his sense, I softly said :
BLINDS HIM WITH A STAKE 141

‘Cyclops, thou askest what my name renowned, BOOK Ix,
And I inform thee; but, as thou hast said, 364—400.
So do, and give some token of thy grace.

My name is Noman; Noman am I called
In my own house, and by my friends abroad.’

I spoke; but he remorselessly replied :
‘Noman shall like his comrades be devoured,
But last of all; this favour shall be his.’

And as he spoke he fell down flat, and lay
With broad neck drooping, while all-conquering sleep
Came o’er him, and from out his throat the wine
Ran, mixed with drunken spew of human flesh.
Then into embers deep I thrust the stake
Till it grew heated, whilst I cheered my men,

Lest any in his part should fail for fear.

When soon the olive log was on the point

(Green though it was) to burst in flame, and glowed
Red-hot, I brought it nearer from the fire,

While round me stood my comrades and a God
Breathed a brave spirit within us. They raised high
The olive stake and pressed its sharpened point

To his one eye, whilst from an upper bench

I twirled it round. As when a builder bores

A plank through for a galley, and his men

On either side the wimble stand below

Plying it by its thong, and swift it twirls
Unceasing, so we turned that fire-tipt log

Round in his eye, and warm the blood streamed out.
Singed with the vapour were the lids and brows ;
The pupil flamed, the roots were cracked with fire.
As a large axe, or falchion, by a smith

Plunged for its tempering into waters cold

(For this adds strength to iron), hisses—so

Hissed round that olive stake the Giant’s eye.
Dreadful his roar of anguish, and the rock

Echoed it round. We ran in fear away

Whilst the blood-dripping log from out his eye

He drew, and hurled it in his frenzy far.

Loud to the fellow-Cyclops rose his shriek,

Who ’habited the caverns round about

Amongst the windy headlands; and they heard
BOOK Ix,
401—435.

142 SAVES HIMSELF AS NOMAN

His cries, and thither flocked from every side
And all around the cavern asked his grief:

‘What ails thee, Polyphemus, that thou sendst
This terrible shriek of anguish through still night
Breaking the Cyclops’ slumber? Are thy flocks
Now driven away against thy will by man ?

Or art thyself being slain by force or guile?’

To whom strong Polyphemus from the den:
‘Noman, my friends; the craft of Noman kills!’
And they returned in answer wingéd words:

“If no man hurts thee in thy solitude,

Zeus now must visit thee with sore disease.
Hard though escape be from his mighty hand,
Yet on our father King Poseidon call.’

They spoke, departing ; and the dear heart laughed
Within me, that my name and mask complete
Of Noman had deceived them. All in grief
And gruesome pain the Cyclops groping round
Moved from the door the stone, and took himself
Seat in the doorway, either hand outstretched
To catch whoever with the sheep should dare
To go outside—such madness ours he hoped!
But I was taking counsel in my heart
How best might be the issue, if perchance
Some rescue for my followers and myself
I might discover, and all threads of wile
I long was weaving, as for very life,

So great the evil threatened. This seemed best:
Well-nourish’d, thick of fleece, and large, and fair
With wool like violet dark, the rams stood nigh.
These rams I yoked together, three and three,
With twisted rushes (that fell Giant’s bed)
Working in silence ; and each midmost ram
Carried a man, while at its sides the two
Guarded their burden from his hands. To each
Three were the rams to bear him; mine own self
Caught hold of one, the finest of the flock

And largest, by the back, and, rolling round
Under his shaggy belly, lay, and held

With hands twined deep within the wondrous fleece
Clinging with all my might, in patience still.
AND ESCAPES UNDER A RAM 143

In such sad case we waited Dawn divine. BOOK IX.
436—468.

“Hardly had rosy-fingered Dawn arisen,

When to their pasture forth the rams ’gan march:

The ewes unmilked bode bleating in the pens,

Whose udders of their burdens unrelieved

Groan’d; but their lord with evil pain distressed

Feeling the back of each ram as it went

Was searching, nor perceived (Ah, Fool!) the men

Bound ’neath the full-fleeced bellies. Last of all,

My ram, the leader of the flock, approached

The doorway, harassed by his own full fleece

And all my wisdom’s weight; and as it passed

Huge Polyphemus stroked it down, and said:
‘Pet Ram! Why through the cavern laggst thou thus

Last of the flock? ”’Twas ne’er thy wont till now

To pass behind thy fellows, but wouldst graze

The tender-budding herbage first at morn

With stately step, and in the river drink

First ever, and at eve move homeward first—

But now the very last! Thy master’s eye

Thou mournest, blinded by this scum o’ the earth,

With his ill comrades and his conquering wine,

Noman, whom in no manner yet secure

From death I warrant. Ah, hadst thou a voice

To speak thy grief and tell me where he skulks

Soon on the threshold were his head crushed in,

His brain sent spattered through the cave, and so

My heart were somewhat lightened of the grief,

Brought on me by this Noman—nothing-worth !’
He spoke, and gently from him sent the ram.

“Some little way outside the cave and yard
I from my ram first gat me free, and loosed
My comrades, and encircling all the flock
Drave them, long-shank’d, well-fatten’d, till we gained
Quickly our galley. Welcome to the crew
We showed, the remnant who had ‘scaped the death;
And for the others they were making moan,
When I with silent nod forbade all tears
And beckoned to the fair-fleeced sheep, that they
BOOK Ix.
469—505.

144 HE TAUNTS THE CYCLOPS

Should with all speed be thrown into the ship,
And then the ship be put well out to sea.
So the good crew in order taking seat

.Smote the grey billows with their quick-plied oars.

When from the shore as far as voice could reach,

I, taunting, to the Cyclops shouted this:
“Cyclops, no weakling wast thou doom’d to find

The man whose comrades in thy hollow cave

Thou monstrously devourédst. Some great ill

In likelihood was thine to suffer soon,

Most impious man! Who shrankst not from devouring

Guests in thy house! Zeus therefore and the Gods

Have wrought on thee this vengeance for their wrong.’
So spake I, and enraged his heart the more.

Off a great mountain straight he tore the top

And hurled it, but beyond the dark-prowed ship

Threw and scarce failed from crushing in the helm.

The sea was heaved in billows by the rock

Sinking, and, flooding from the sea, the tide

Back to the mainland washed and brought the ship

Near to the coast again. But I to hand

Gat the long boat-hook and pushed off and bade

By silent nod my comrades for escape

To strike out strongly. Forward to their oars

Falling they rowed ; but when across the sea

Twice the first distance we had cleared, again

I would address the Cyclops, though the crew

Came round me and would check with whisper’d words:
“Why wantonly enrage this monster more ?

He hath already by one throw brought back

To land our galley, where (we said) we needs

Must perish. Let him hear thy voice anew

Upbraiding, and another granite rock

Will follow—such the javelin that he plies,

Our heads, our galley, all were crushed alike!"
They prayed, but won not my high-hearted soul;

And thus, returning wrath for wrath, I spake:
‘Cyclops, if any of men hereafter ask

How thine unseemly blindness came to pass,

Say, ’twas the Ithacan, Laertes’ son,

Odysseus, Zeus-born Conqueror of towns’.
WHO INVOKES POSEIDON’S CURSE 145

I ended; deeply sighing he replied: BOOK IX.
‘Too well, too well, the ancient oracles 506—539.
Have now struck home! For here of old times lived
Telemus son of Eurymus, the seer,

A man of might and prophet unsurpassed,

Who prophesying midst our race waxed old:
He told me that these things should be, and I
Be reft of vision by Odysseus’ hands.

Ah, but I ever imagined here would come
Some mighty man-at-arms, in strength arrayed,
Large-limbed, and fair to view: but, lo, by thee,
A pigmy wretch and puny, nothing-worth,
With wine thy only weapon—I am blind!

Yet come again, Odysseus, come, receive

My loving-tokens; I would with thee pray
Poseidon to assist thy voyage home!

He boasts himself my father; I his son;

He, if he will, can heal me, he alone,

No other of heavenly Gods or mortal men.’

He ceased, but I in answer thus replied:

‘Would I had such assurance of thy fall
To Hades, reft by me of ghost and life,

As that Poseidon will not heal thine eye!’

So spake I; he on King Poseidon called
Praying with arm outstretched toward starry heaven:

“Enclasper of the earth! Sea’s dark-hair’d Power!
Hearken to me, Poseidon: if in truth
Thou boastest thee my father, I thy child,

Grant that this Ithacan Laertes’ son,

Odysseus, Zeus-born conqueror of towns,

May never reach his home! Or, if high Fate
Ordains that he must see his native land,

Yet, long-delayed, and in an evil plight,

His galleys and loved comrades all destroyed,
Aboard a borrow’d bark, let him arrive,

There only to discover yet more woes!’

His prayer the dark-tress’d God with favour heard.

“ But buger far the rock he then caught up
And whirled, and to the hurl lent boundless strength,
So that scarce short from off the dark-prowed ship
10
BOOK IX.
540—566.

146 THEY EAT THE GIANT’S FLOCK

He threw or failed of crushing in the helm.
The sea was heaved in billows by the rock
Sinking; the ship swerved landward, yet bare on
Till we regained the island where were left

Our other well-bench’d galleys, and their crews
Sitting in sorrow, wistful of our fate.

There on the sands we ran our ship ashore,
And disembarking on the breakers’ edge

Took from the hollow hull the Giant’s sheep,
And meted out the spoil, that none should go
Lacking his portion. But to me the ram

In the partition with acclaim by all

Was voted, and I straightway offered it

To Zeus the child of Kronos cloud-enthroned ;
To Him I made burnt-offering of the thighs ;
Who yet regarded not my prayer, ill-pleased,
And meditating to my well-benched barks
Destruction, and my dear companions’ death.

“The whole day through, to set of sun, we sate,
On that vast store of meat and on sweet wine
Making our feast ; but when the darkness came
Laid us all down to slumber on the strand.

“With the first birth of rosy-fingered Dawn
I hastened and gave order to the crews
Straight to embark and loose the ropes astern.
They heard, and on the benches taking seat
Smote the grey billows with their even oars.

“Glad from death’s clutch, but grieving for the dead
Onward, with sorrow at our hearts, we sailed.

?
AZOLUS GIVES THEM THE WINDS | 147

ODYSSEY X.
“Thence to an isle, AEolia named, we came
Where AZolus the son of Hippotus, BOOK X.
Belovéd of immortal Gods, abides: 1—25.

A floating island, with a wall of brass
Impregnable around it on a cliff

That rises sheer below. Within his house
Twelve children had been born, six glorious sons,
And daughters six ; and to the sons he made
The daughters to be wives ; and all the house

At their loved father’s and chaste mother’s board
Feasts daily, on a plenteous garnered fare.
Fragrant with steam thereof the hall all day
Fills with its sound the court-yard, but at night
On soft rugs and carved bedsteads they repose
With their fair spouses. There we came; and he
With welcome entertained me all one moon,
And oft would curiously ask and question me

Of Ilion, of the tale of Argos’ fleet,

And of the Achaians’ sad return to home.
Whereof | told the story full and true.

But, when I sought departure and implored

His succour onward, no denial loth

He made me, but this wondrous help devised ;
He flayed a nine-year ox, and of the hide

Gave me a bag, wherein he bound and sealed
The mouths of all fierce winds. For Kronos’ Son
Hath made him steward of all winds that blow,
To lull, or to arouse, them, as he lists.

That not a breath should blow astray, he bound
With a bright cord of silver in my bark

This bag fast down, but sent one gentle breeze
Of Zephyr forth to waft us on our way.

Yet was his purpose not to be fulfilled ;
BOOK X.
26.—60.

148 IN A BAG WHICH THE CREW OPEN
Of our own madness we were quite undone.

“Nine days and nights alike we voyaged on;
And on the tenth already showed the coast
Of our dear fatherland, so nigh, we saw
Kindling their fires the shepherds. Then on me
Sweet slumber fell, with labour quite outworn ;
For ever in mine own hands had I kept
The sailrope, nor to others of the crew
Trusted it once, that we the more might speed.
But, whilst I slept, my comrades, each with each
Conversing, told how I was carrying home
Silver and gold, the gifts of Zolus
The noble son of Hippotus; and one
Would look into his neighbour’s eyes, and say:
‘Strange how beloved and honoured by all men,
To whosesoever land or town he comes,
Our Leader! From the spoil of Troy he takes
Home with him many an heirloom rich and rare,
But we who have perform’d the self-same toils
Return all empty-handed! Let us haste
And look within, and see what this may be,
What gold and silver in that bag is stored.’
This evil counsel so prevailed with them,
They oped the bag, and all the winds leapt forth.
A strong blast snatched and bare them out to sea,
Lamenting, off their fatherland; and I,
Then waking, pondered in my inmost soul,
Should I not throw me overboard, and die
Drowned in the waves, or should I yet bear on
In patience, and remain with living men ?
Howbeit, I endured to suffer, and remained
Sheltering me in the galley, lying still,
Whilst the wild tempest hurried all the fleet
Back to AZolia’s isle, with grieving crews.

““We went ashore and drew fresh water there,
And made repast beneath our arrowy ships.
When we had all partaken corn and drink,

A herald with one comrade thence I took,
Departing to the house of AZolus ;
THEY REACH THE L4&STRYGONS 149

Whom with his wife and children all at feast BOOK X.
I found: we entering sate in silence down 60—90.
Under the pillars at the threshold stone ;
They started up, astonished, and inquired :
‘ How art thou here, Odysseus, how returned ?
Hurt by what Power of evil? Whom we sent
With safest conduct hence, that thou mightst gain
Thy country, or what place soe’er thou wished.’
They spoke, to whom I answered, sore at heart:
‘Ruin’d by evil comrades I return;
And luckless slumber was the cause beside.
Yet, Friends, redeem it ; for the power is yours.’
I spoke; assaying them with gentle words,
But all bode silent, till their Father said:
‘Least favour’d of all living men, avaunt !
Hence from this island! It were most to me
Forbidden to assist with conduct safe
The man who is the hate of heavenly Gods.
Returning, hated by the Gods, begone!’
He spoke, and sent us from his house away.

“So we sailed onward, in a deep distress,
And the men’s hearts within them were consumed
For our own folly and the toilsome pain
Of rowing, for no helpful breeze blew now.

“Six days and nights alike we voyaged on,
And on the seventh reached the citadel
Of Lamos, Lestrygonia: wide apart
Its gates, and high it rises. In that land
One swain at eve drives in his herd, and hails
His fellow driving forth his flock at morn ;
A sleepless man might earn a double hire,
Tending twelve hours the oxen, twelve the sheep ;
Day treadeth on the steps of Night so near.

“Into the famous haven there we ran,
Around which either side a precipice
Stands sheer and rocky, but the forelands jut
Facing each other at the mouth, and strait
The entry seems. My brave companions steered
BOOK x.
91—126.

150 WHO CRUSH ALL SAVE ONE SHIP

Their benchéd barks inside and moored them fast
Each near the other in the hollow bay,

Where never beats a billow, great or small,

But milk-like calm expanded. I alone

Held my black galley on the edge, outside,

By cables from the rock made fast, and clomb

A crag, and from that vantage-point looked forth.
No sign of oxen or of men I saw,

Saving a smoke that rose from off the ground.
Two chosen comrades therefore I despatched
(Adding a third, a herald) to inquire

What manner of man that eateth corn dwelt there.
Along a smooth-made road that wagons used

To bring wood from the mountains to the town,
Leaving the ship, they travell’d, till they met

A maiden, filling there her pitcher full.

She was the daughter of Antiphates

And to the pure stream of the Arcasian fount
(Whence folk drew water for their homes) had come.
Approaching they addressed her and inquired

Who was their King and over whom he reigned.
She showed her father’s mansion jor reply.

But, when they entered that great house, they saw
Towering above them like a mountain’s peak

A woman, and in loathing stood aghast.

She from the market call’d Antiphates

Her glorious mate, who straightway on them wrought
Piteous destruction; for he seized on one

For his own meal, and, as the others rushed

Back towards the ships in flight, he sent a cry
Ringing throughout the city. To-his voice

Other huge Lestrygons from every side,

Not like to mortals but a Giant brood,

Thousands in number poured, and from the crags
Hurled crushing rocks upon them; straight arose
Miserable clamour amongst the galleys—men
Perishing, and the crash of broken ships.

Like fish, the crews were spitted and borne off
For their foes’ hideous feasting. But myself,
Whilst those within the haven thus were slain,
Plucked from my hip a sharp-edged sword, and cut
WHICH IS DRIVEN TO CIRCE’S ISLE 151

The cables off my dark-blue bark and cheered BOOK x.
My crew to strike out strongly for escape. 127—162.
Together all quick plied their oars in fear

Of utter ruin ; from the impending rocks

Into deep water gladly ran my bark,

But left my dear companions all destroyed.

“Glad from death's clutches, sorrowing for the dead,
Onward, with anguish at our hearts, we fared,
And reached an isle, A2za; there abode
A dreaded Goddess, Circe, fair to see,

And speaking with the tongue of mortal men,
Deadly Eztes’ sister ; whom the God,

Helios, the giver of light to-man, begat,

But Persé, Ocean’s daughter, gave them birth.
Here at a cape, in silence all, we steered

Into a hidden harbour, by some God

Guided in safety. Disembarking there,

Two nights, two days, we rested, in fatigue
And those our sorrows eating out our hearts.
But when the fair-tressed morn had perfected
The third bright day I took a sword and spear
And left the ship and clomb a vantage-place
Whence to look round me, so perchance to see
Some signs, or hear the voice, of mortal men.
Climbing a crag, I stood and saw a smoke

Off broad-way’d earth arising, in the abodes

Of Circe, deep in thicket and dense wood.

And much I pondered in my secret soul

That glowing smoke beholding—Should I go
Myself, and make espial? better seemed

Quick to regain my galley and the shore,

To feast my comrades there and send them first
Forth for inquiry. As I neared the bark,

Some God had pity upon my solitude

And sent across my path a noble stag
High-antlered, from his woodland pastures down
Descending to the river-side to drink,

For the sun’s power constrained him. Through the spine,
In the back’s centre, as he issued forth

I struck him, and the brazen javelin passed
BOOK xX.
163—195.

152 ODYSSEUS KILLS A STAG

Right through ; all moaning in the dust he fell
And rendered up the ghost. From out the wound,
Pressing my foot, I drew the brazen spear

And left it on the earth laid flat, but plucked
Osiers, and twigs, and therewithal a rope

A fathom’s length I plaited in two strands.
Therewith I bound the monstrous animal’s feet
Together, and so slipping it round my neck
Carried it seaward, walking with the spear.

So very huge the beast, it could nowise

Be slung across my shoulder with one hand.
Before the ship I threw it, and aroused

My comrades, cheering each with gentle words:

‘Since, friends, ye know right well, that, whatsoe’er
Our present trouble, yet we cannot sink
To Hades’ house before our fated day,

Arise, and, whilst aboard our arrowy bark
Is food and drink, therewith we will betimes
Refresh us, nor let hunger gnaw us still.’

I spoke ; they hearkened and obeyed my words.
Their heads unmuffling, near the barren sea
They rose and gazed astonied on that stag,

For very huge the beast. And, when their sight
Was sated, all with washen hands ’gan dress

A sumptuous meal. The whole day long we sate
On that rich store of venison and sweet wine
Feasting, till sunset ; and when darkness fell
Laid us again to slumber on the sands.

“ With the first birth of rosy-fingered Dawn
I call’d a council, and addressed them thus:
‘Friends, hear me; wretched is our case indeed
And dreadful! For, alas, we know not now
Neither where east is, nor where west, nor where
The Sun, the Giver of light to man, will go
Under the earth, nor where he will arise.
Take counsel therefore if perchance some help
May be discovered ; but I much misdoubt
Any being found. For, climbing up a crag,
I looked, and saw an island, ringed all round
With infinite sea, but sunken low itself;
AND SENDS FORTH COMPANIONS _ 153

Only one single line of smoke I saw BOOK X.

Midmost, and deep in thicket and dense wood.’ 196—228.
I spoke ; but their dear hearts were broken quite

With dread remembrance of Antiphates

The Lestrygon, and of that Giant fierce,

The Cyclops, who on human flesh had fed.

Shrilly they wailed, and bitter tears they wept ;

But what could all their outcries profit them ?

“Anon my well-arm’d comrades in two bands
I numbered, and gave either band its chief,
Godlike Eurylochus, and mine own self.
Then in a brazen helmet we shook lots;
The lot of brave Eurylochus leapt out ;
He started forth, and with him, weeping all,
One score and two good comrades, leaving us
In like distress behind. Within the wood
They found the abode of Circe on a spot
Quite open, built of polish’d stones. All round
About it, lions and hill-roaming wolves
(The fell enchantment of her evil drugs)
Flocked, yet essayed no rush against our men
But on them fawned with gentle signs, and stood
Erect to stop them. Like to petted dogs
That fawn about their master as he moves
From table; whence he daily brings a mess
Sweet to their mouths; so fawned those strong-claw’d

wolves

And lions round my followers, who beheld
With fear the marvel of their gentleness.

“ Anon they stood before the doors where dwelt
The fair-hair’d Goddess, whose sweet voice they heard
Singing as o’er a web she moved, such work
As Goddesses may use, most delicate,

And fair, divinely wrought. Polites then
Advised them thus, a chieftain best-beloved

Of all the crew by me, and most discreet :
‘Some one, my Friends, is singing there within
(And the whole precinct echoes to her voice),
Goddess or woman, weaving a great web;
BOOK X.
229—260.

154 WHOM CIRCE TRANSFORMS TO SWINE

Haste to address her, whosoe’er she be.’
He spoke, and all entreating called her forth.

“ And quick she came, and oped the glittering doors
And called them in; whom of their folly all
Followed ; Eurylochus remained outside

Alone, in sad suspicion of some guile.

Within she led them and on settles and thrones
Bade them be seated, while she mixed a mess
Compounded of pale honey, cheese, and corn,

With wine of Pramnos; and therewith she mixed
Also fell drugs that they might straight forget

Their fatherland for ever. When of these

She had given and all had eaten and drunk, she straight
Struck with her wand, and to the sties of swine

Pent them, transformed: in body and head and voice
And bristly hide, they were as swine, but kept

Their human minds and feeling as before.

Weeping they so were prisoned, and the witch
Threw acorns for them, must, and cornel-fruit,

To eat—such food as grovelling swine do use.

“Soon to the swift black ship Eurylochus
With tidings of our comrades’ bitter fate
Returned, heart-smitten with such whelming grief,
He could not utter what he longed to tell.
His eyes were filled with tears; his heart in vain
Struggled to vent a cry; in marvel, we
Still questioned, till he told the others’ death;
“We went, renown’d Odysseus, as thou badst,
Into the wood, and found a fair abode
On a clear spot and built of polished stone.
Goddess or woman—some one there within
Was singing sweetly o’er a large-spread web,
Whom they addressed and called: forthwith she came
And oped the glittering doors and called them in.
The others in their folly followed her ;
I only by suspicion of some guile
Remained without. And the whole company
Hath vanished clean away! Not one hath shown
Returning, though I sate longwhile, and looked.’
HERMES FORTIFIES ODYSSEUS 155

He spoke; I threw a silver-hilted brand BOOK X.
And bow with quiver round me, and enjoined 261—297.
Guide me that self-same way ; but at my knees
He caught, beseeching, and in tears implored:

‘Take me not thither back against my will,

Zeus-nurtured Chief, but leave me here, who know
Thou canst not save them nor thyself return.
Haste rather flight with these who yet survive ;

So we might still escape the evil day.’

He spoke, but I in answer thus returned:
‘Abide thou here, Eurylochus, remain
Eating and drinking at the galley’s side ;

But I must onward, by a sore constraint’.
I spoke, and mounted from the ship and sea.

“When soon advancing through the sacred glades
I neared sage Circé’s mansion, there the God
Hermeias golden-wanded crossed my path,
Walking in likeness of a princely youth
When manly down blooms fairest on his cheek ;
And clinging to my hand he spoke and said:
‘Whither, of men most hapless, makst thou way
Through these rough stony brakes to thee unknown?
Thy comrades lie imprisoned in the abodes
Of Circe, pent as swine in sties concealed.
And hopest thou to release them? Rather thou
Wilt there remain as others have remained
Nor get thee safely back. Yet from such fate
I may redeem and save thee. Take this drug
Of wondrous property, and with it go
Emboldened to her palace, where from thee
It shall avail to guard the evil day.
All her fell sorceries I now expound.
A mess she first will mix thee, with the corn
Mingling her drugs, charms impotent against
The root that I will give thee. What ensues
I warn thee now. When Circe strikes at thee
With her long wand, quick draw from off thy hip
Thy sword, and on her rush, as fain to kill:
In fear she will implore thee to her bed:
Neither disdain her offer ; so thou best
BOOK x.
298—331.

156 AGAINST CIRCE’S ENCHANTMENTS

Shalt save thy comrades and escape thyself.

But bid her first by Gods immortal swear

A mighty oath that she will ne’er devise

Against thee further harm, lest else, being stript,

. She turn thee to some foul unhuman shape.’

So Argeiphontes ending from the earth
Plucked up a herb and showed its properties,
Black at the root, with milk-white flower above ;
Gods name it moly; easy to the Gods
Are all things; but to man it rests unknown.

“So to Olympus’ crest Hermeias passed
Through the deep-wooded island: I went on,
And much my heart was troubled as I went,
To fair-haired Circe’s palace: in the gates
I stood and called; the Goddess heard my voice
And issuing forth undid the glittering doors
And called me in; I followed, sore distressed.
She placed me on a throne, with silver bossed,
Carven and fair, with footstool to my feet ;
Then in a golden goblet ’gan compound
Some beverage that I might drink, and threw
Her drugs therein, with mischievous intent.
When she had given of this, and I had drunk
Still unenchanted, with her wand she struck,
Speaking her foul enchantment, uttering this:
‘Hence to thy sty, there grovel with thy crew!’
She spoke, but off my hip I plucked my sword
And right upon her rushed, as fain to kill:
She with a shriek ran under, and enclasped
My knees, beseeching then with wingéd words:
‘Who and whence art thou? Where thy home? And
who
Begat thee ? Wonder seizes me that thou
Hast drunk these drugs, not yielding to their charm.
No other man hath e’er resisted these
When once they passed the barrier of his teeth.
Proof to all magic must thy mind be framed.
Odysseus thou, the myriad-minded man,
Who, as gold-wanded Argeiphontes oft
Would tell me, hither should arrive some day
CIRCE RECEIVES THE HERO 157

Returning on his swift black bark from Troy! BOOK x.
Nay, sheathe that sword; and let us mount my bed 332—368.
Together, that, partaking love’s delights,
Each in the other may have trust henceforth’
She spoke; to whom in answer I replied :
‘What ruth from me, O Circe—ruth to thee
Who wouldst have changed me, but one moment gone,
As thou hast changed my comrades into swine?
And now wouldst hold me here, and of thy guile
Invite me to thy chamber—there, being stript,
To turn me to some foul unhuman shape!
Nay, | were loth at all to ascend thy bed,
Unless, O Goddess, thou wilt deign to swear
Some mighty oath, that thou wilt ne’er devise
Against me any evil harm anew.’
I spoke ; but, as I bade, she straightway sware.
When with that oath she had abjured all harm,
Into the lovely sorceress’ bed I passed.

“ Meantime, the handmaids four who ministered
In that fair palace turned them to their tasks,
Four daughters born of fountains and of woods
And sacred rivers that flow down to sea.

The first across the thrones threw beauteous rugs,
Purple above, but linen white below;

Erecting silver tables at the thrones

Platters of gold the second placed thereon ;

The third ’gan mingle in a silver bowl

Sweet honey-tasted wine, and set gold cups

In order due; whilst water from the fount

The fourth brought, and beneath a tripod large
Lit a great fire. The water waxéd warm,

And to the bath she took me, and poured down
The water o’er my head and shoulders showered
From a large vessel, heated pleasurably,

Till drear fatigue departed from my limbs.
When she had bathed and anointed me with oil
O’er me she threw fair tunic and a cloak

And led me to a throne, with silver bossed,
Carven and rich, with footstool to my feet.
Then water in a lovely golden ewer
BOOK X.
369—404.

158 RESTORES HIS COMPANIONS

A damsel brought and poured it o’er my hands
Above a silver laver; at my side

She oped a polish’d table, whereupon

The matron of the house put bread, and brought
Dainties there also, bounteous of her store,

And bade me eat; but in my heart this much
Displeased me, and I sate with other thoughts
Gloomy, and boding evil in my soul.

“When Circe saw I sate unmoved nor laid
Hands on the food but brooded o’er my griefs,
Approaching she addressed these wingéd words:

‘Why, dumb-like, eating out thine own sad heart,
Sittst thou, partaking neither drink_nor food ?
Suspecting evil? This thou shouldst not fear ;
By a dread oath I have abjured all harm.’

She spoke, and I in answer thus replied:

‘ Ah, Circe, who that hath a heart to feel
Could brook the taste of pleasant food or drink,
Ere he had seen his friends alive and free?

If then this welcome from thy heart proceeds,
First loose my comrades, let me see them now.’

I spoke, and Circe took her wand, and left
The hall, and opening the sty-gates drave out,

In shape of swine nine quarters old, my crew,
Who paused before me. Passing through their midst
Each she anointed with some other drug.

The bristly hides, wherewith the deadly charm
By her enchantment had enclothed their limbs
Fell sloughing off them, and they straight became
Human again, yea, younger than before,

More beautiful, and larger to the eye!

They knew me all, and hung upon my hands.

A yearning sorrow crept into our hearts,

And the whole palace echoed to our moan,

So that even Circe’s fair Divinity

Had pity, and approaching spoke and said:

‘Laertes’ Son, Odysseus, Zeus-born Chief!
Now go to thy swift galley and the shore.

There haul ye first the galley up to land
And put in neighbouring caverns all your wealth,
INVITES ALL THE CREW 159

And all your arms; then quick thyself return BOOK X.
Hither, and bring with thee thy well-loved friends.’ 405—437.
She spoke, and won my dauntless heart’s consent.

“To the swift galley and the shore I went
And found my well-loved comrades, all aboard
Gathered, in piteous plight, and shedding tears.
As in a fold-yard, when a herd of cows
After full pasture to the farm return,
Their calves all frisk to meet them, leaping up
Over their pens, and scampering round their dams,
With endless lowings; so my faithful men
When they beheld me again before their eyes
Threw themselves weeping round me; yea, it seemed
As if our native land and their own town
Where in rough Ithaca they were born and bred
Had been regained at last! And thus they spake:
‘For thy return, O Hero, we are moved
Ev’n with such joy as though we had arrived
In Ithaca our own dear native land ;
But haste to tell us of those others’ fate.’
They spoke, and I with winning words replied:
‘Let us first haul the galley up to land,
Placing our booty in the neighbouring caves
With all our arms ; then haste ye in my steps
To follow, that in Circe’s sacred halls
Ye may behold our comrades in good plight
Eating and drinking ; plenteous is the fare.’
I spoke, and they with haste obeyed my words.

“Only Eurylochus would hold them back
From following me, and spake these wingéd words:
‘Whither depart we, hapless that we are?
What passion for misfortune holds you now
That ye should venture back to Circe’s halls?
She will transform us there to wolves, or swine,
Or lions, set as sentinels perforce
To guard her mansion. Thus the Cyclops brought
Ruin on those amongst us who dared go
Comrades of rash Odysseus to his den:
Yea, his the foolishness for which they died!’
BOOK x.
438—472.

160 AND ENTERTAINS THEM ONE YEAR

He ended; and I thought to slay him there,
Off my broad hip plucking a sharp-edged sword
To bring him, head dissever’d, to the ground,
Though my near kinsman; but about me came
My comrades, and restrained me, saying thus:

‘Nay, Zeus-born! We will leave him, as thou biddst,
Here at the galley alone, to guard it safe ;
Lead thou the way to Circe’s sacred halls.’

They spoke, and mounted from the ship and shore.
Neither would he remain aboard the bark,
But followed, all in awe of my rebuke.

“ Circe meanwhile within her house had bathed
The others and anointed them with oil,
And o’er them mantles fair and tunics thrown,
And thus we found them in her halls at feast.
When the two bands each other saw and told
All that had happed, each lifted up his voice
And wept: the palace echoed to their wail;
Till the Queen-Goddess nearer drew, and said:
‘Laertes’ Son, Odysseus, Zeus-born Chief!
Provoke ye now no more these cries of woe;
Full well I know the sufferings ye have borne,
Both on the teeming deep, and what on land
The injurious deeds of men your enemies.
Rather partake of food and drink of wine
Till ye recover the spirit that in your breasts
Ye boasted when you sailed from Ithaca.
For now ye show so wan and woe-begone
With constant brooding on your toils at sea
And with your sufferings so discomfited
Even into pleasure ye can throw no heart.’
She spoke, and won our dauntless souls’ consent.

“Thus through the length of one revolving year
On her exhaustless meats and on sweet wine
Feasting we bode ; but when with wasting moons
And seasons perfected the year had flown,

And the long days had in full circuit run,
Then my loved comrades called me forth, and said:

‘Henceforward, dear our Chieftain, if ’tis true
THEREAFTER SHE DIRECTS THEM 161

High oracles foretold thee thou shouldst come BOOK X.
To thine own country, homeward bend thy thoughts ’. 473—509.
They spoke, and won my dauntless heart’s assent.

“That whole day through to set of sun we sate
Feasting on various meats and on sweet wine,
Till, when the Sun went down and darkness came,
They stretched them in the great dusk halls to sleep.
But | upon the lovely Sorceress’ bed
Lay at her knees beseeching, and she heard
Graciously, as I spoke my prayer and said:
‘Circe, thy word to send me homeward pledged
Fulfil me soon. My spirit yearns to go;

And all my comrades waste my heart away
Lamenting round me when thou art not nigh.’

I spoke ; to whom the Goddess thus returned:

‘“Laertes’ Son, Odysseus, Zeus-born Chief!
Here if ye would not, here remain no more.
Yet not to home—but other far the road

Ye needs must travel first, and seek the realm
Of Hades and of dread Persephone,

There to ask counsel of Teiresias’ Shade,
The sightless Theban Prophet, who preserves
His ancient powers below; to him alone
Persephone grants knowledge after death ;
Like shadows, all the rest, unweeting, flit.’

She spoke, but my dear heart was broken down.
There on the bed I wept, nor felt I fain
To live or see the sunshine any more.

Not till my tears and moaning had sufficed
In answer I addressed her thus, and said:

‘But who, O Circe, on this road thou namest
Shall be my guide? No man hath pass’d before
Steering a swift black ship to Hades’ realm.’

I spoke, and thus the Goddess made reply:

‘Laertes’ Son, Odysseus, Zeus-born Chief!

Be not thou troubled for the lack of guide
Aboard thy galley ; but set up thy mast,
And whilst a breath of Boreas bears thee on
Sit watchful, with spread sails, and cross the stream
Of Ocean to a rough coast and the groves
11
BOOK x.
510—541,

162 TO VISIT THE SHADE OF TEIRESIAS

Of dread Persephone, tall aspens pale

And fruit-unripening willows. Put to port

Thy vessel there on Ocean’s eddying stream,
But into Hades’ mouldering realm right on
Venture thyself. With Acheron’s waters there
Phlegethon and a branch of deadly Styx
Cocytus mingle ; there the meeting-point

Of two resounding rivers, and a rock.

Quite close to this, O Hero, as I bid,

Draw thee, and delve a trench on all four sides
A cubit’s length around thee; into this

Pour a drink-offering to the Phantom-dead
With honey first, and then with savoury wine,
And, the third time, with water; o’er it all
Sprinkle white meal; and vow with many a prayer
To their wan multitude that, when thou comest
To Ithaca, thou there wilt sacrifice

A barren heifer, of thy herds the best,

And heap the fire with offerings from thy house.
Then make a special sacrifice apart

Unto Teiresias of a black-fleeced ram,

The largest of your flocks. When thus with prayers
Thou hast invoked the Kingdoms of the Dead,
Slaughter yet one more ram and black-fleeced ewe,
Turning the victims’ heads toward Erebus,

But facing thine own self the other way,

As moving down the River. Anon shall come
The multitudinous Spirits of the Dead ;

Then urge thy comrades, bid them haste to flay
And burn the sheep whose bodies lie about,
And call upon the Gods who rule that realm,
Hades, and dread Persephone, his queen.

But sit thyself with sharp unsheathéd sword,
Nor suffer that the Phantom-Ghosts draw nigh
Unto the blood, ere thou hast questioned first
The seer Teiresias; who shall soon appear,

O princely Leader, and inform thee all

Thy journey, and the measures of thy path,
How thou shalt go across the sea to home.’
Ev’n as she ended gold-throned morning came.
IN THE KINGDOM OF HADES 163

“ She clad me then in raiment fair, and donned BOOK x.
A large white glistening mantle o’er herself, 542—574.
Fine-spun, and lovely; with a golden zone
She girded it, and put about her head
A covering veil ; while through the house I went
Quickening my comrades, each with gentle words:

‘Up, in sweet slumber now indulge no more.

Forth, for Queen Circe’s self hath bidden me go.’

I spoke, and won their dauntless hearts’ assent.

“ But not all scathless might I take them thence:
For one, the youngest of our troop, by name
Elpenor, no brave warrior, nor in mind
Well-furnish’d—who had laid him down to sleep
Heavy with wine, apart upon the roof
Of Circe’s mansion for the cool wind’s sake—
Hearing his comrades’ clamour and din below,
Awakening sprang up suddenly, nor thought
To seek the long rung’d ladder for descent,

But from the eaves fell headlong, and his neck
In sunder broke, his ghost to Hades passed.

“Then to my comrades, as they came, I| said:
‘Perchance to your own hearts ye say, we go
Home to our native land; but other far
The road that Circe bids us—to the realm
Of Hades and of dread Persephone,
There to seek counsel of Teiresias’ Shade ’.

I spoke, and their dear hearts were broken quite ;
Sorrowing they sate them down, and tore their hair,
Yet nothing profited for all their cries!

“Therefore we wended in distress and tears
Down to our arrowy galley and the shore;
While Circe also went and near the ship
Bound the black ewe and ram, whence easily
Unseen she left us; when a God desires
To journey unbeholden to and fro,

What mortal eyes against his wish may see?
BOOK XI.
1—29.

164. THEY CROSS THE OCEAN-STREAM

ODYSSEY XI.

“« Descending to the galley and the shore,
Into the sacred main we first drew down
The bark and hoisted up its mast and sails,
Then, having put the ram and ewe aboard,
Heavy at heart and weeping we embarked.
The fair-haired Goddess with the human voice,
Dread Circe, in our dark-prowed galley’s wake
Seni us a boon companion, a fair breeze
Filling our sails; and when our hands had ranged
The gear throughout the ship, we sate us down
And let the breeze and pilot bear us on.
The long day through with swelling sails we fared,
Till the sun sank, and all the ways grew dusk.

«So to the stream of Ocean’s uttermost bounds
The vessel came. The abodes and city are there
Of the Cimmerians, wrapt in mist and cloud ;

On whom the Sun looks never with warm rays
Neither when mounting up the starry sky

Nor when toward earth inclining; but a gloom
Malignant stretches o’er the unhappy race.

We beach’d the ship and disembarked the sheep,
And walked along the River to the spot
Whereof mage Circe told us. There we paused ;
And Perimedes and Eurylochus

Held fast the victims ready, whilst I drew

A sharp sword off my thigh and delved a trench
A cubit’s length around me all four sides,

And o’er it made drink-offering to the Dead,
With honey first, and then with savoury wine,
And, the third time, with water; o’er it all

I sprinkled meal, and vowed with many a prayer
TO THE REGION OF THE DEAD 165

To the wan tribe of Phantoms, when I came BOOK XI.
To Ithaca, I there would sacrifice 30—63.
A barren heifer, best of all my herds,

And heap the fire with offerings from my house ;
Likewise to make a sacrifice apart

Unto Teiresias of a black-fleeced ram,

The largest of our flocks. When with these prayers

My invocation of the Dead was made,

I seized and cut the victims’ throats, but let

The blood gush clouding black into the trench.

Nor long ere gathering up from Erebus

Swarmed the dim Phantoms—brides, and youths unwed,
Old men bow’d down with trouble, tender maids

With hearts untaught to sorrow; men there were
Likewise, who found in battle death, and came

With their old wounds and blood-stained armour still.

In multitudes they fitted round the trench

From all four sides with weird unearthly sound

So that pale fear possessed me. Not the less

[ bade my well-loved comrades haste to flay

And burn the sheep whose bodies lay about,

And call upon the Gods who rule the Dead,

Hades, and dread Persephone, his queen:

But sate myself with sharp-edged falchion drawn

Nor suffer’d the wan Ghosts to taste the blood

Ere I could commune with Teiresias’ Shade.

“The Spirit of Elpenor first approached,

Who had not yet been laid in broad-way’d Earth.
In Circe’s hall his body had been left
Unmourned, unburied; other cares had pressed.
I wept, beholding him, and in my heart

Took pity, and addressed these wingéd words:

“How with such speed, Elpenor, hast thou fared
To this far mist-wrapt region of the west,

On foot forestalling me aboard my bark?’

I spoke; and, deeply sighing, he replied:
‘Some Power of ill, and most accurséd wine,
Have plunged me in this ruin. On the roof
Of Circe’s house I lay, nor thought to seek,
Returning, the long ladder for descent,
BOOK XI.
64—93.

166 WHERE THEY MEET ELPENOR

But from the eaves fell headlong; and my neck
In sunder broke ; my ghost hath hither passed.
Therefore I now implore thee, in the name
Of those now absent, left by thee behind,
By thy true wife, and by thy father dear
Who rear’d thee in thy infancy, and by
Telemachus, thy only son forlorn
(Since when thou goest hence from Hades’ hall
Right well I know that to Aiza’s isle
Back thou wilt hold thy well-built galley’s course)—
I charge thee, there, O King, remember me!
Nor, when thyself departest, leave me still
Unmourned, unburied, lest the wrath of Gods
Be kindled else against thee for my sake.
But lay me with all armour that is mine,
To burn upon my pyre, and heap up high
Farseen upon the hoary billows’ edge
My cairn, that men in after-times may ask
Of the unhappy man who lieth there.
Fulfil me this, and likewise on the cairn
Set up the oar wherewith I used to row
With my dear comrades in the upper life.’

He spoke, to whom I answered: ‘ Hapless youth,
I will fulfil and do thy whole desire ’.

Thus in sad interchange of words we bode,
I holding naked o’er the blood my sword,
His Phantom speaking from the other side.

“The Spirit of my mother next approached,
Anticlea, daughter of Autolycus,
Then living when I started for the war
’Gainst sacred Ilion. Into tears I burst
Beholding her, and in my heart had ruth,
Yet, though I yearn’d for sorrow, suffered not
Ev’n her to approach or taste the flowing blood
Ere J] could commune with Teiresias’ Shade.

“Anon the Spirit of Teiresias came,
The Theban, in his hand a staff of gold,
Who knew me, and addressed me thus, and spake:
‘Why hast thou left the sunshine of the earth
AND TEIRESIAS GIVES HIS ORACLE 167

For these dim cheerless precincts of the Dead, BOOK XI.
Unhappy man? Yet from the trench withdraw, 94—122.
I pray thee; put aside that pointed sword,
And let me drink the blood, and speak thee true.’
He spoke ; and I withdrew, and in its sheath
Thrust back the silver-hilted sword; and, when
The blameless Seer had drunken of the blood,
Arising he addressed me thus, and said:
‘Thou seekst, renowned Odysseus, a return
Which should be sweet as honey to thy heart,
But Gods ordain it toilsome ; for 1 deem
Poseidon unrelenting in the wrath
He bears thee for his son the Cyclops’ sake
Whom thou hast blinded. Nathless, in despite’
Of this and of your sufferings, ye may come
Safely to home, if thou canst then restrain
Thine own and thy companions’ impious greed,
When first thou bringst thy well-built bark to land
Upon the isle Trinacria, quitting there
The wide-spread violet billows. Ye will find
The kine and rich sleek cattle of the Sun
(The Sun, who seeth all things, heareth all)
There grazing ; these if thou canst leave unharmed,
Setting thy mind to nought save thy return,
Then, howsoe’er ye suffer, yet at last
Ye shall all win to Ithaca your way.
But, if at all thou harmst them, first I bode
Destruction to thy galley and thy crew,
And, though thine own self may survive that death,
Yet, late indeed, and in an evil plight,
Shalt thou reach home, thy company all lost,
Aboard a borrowed galley—in thy house
Doomed only to discover yet more woes,
Haught men, who eat thy substance up, and woo
Thy godlike wife and proffer wealthy dower:
Howbeit on these full vengeance shall be thine.
When thou hast slain these Suitors in thy hall,
By guile, or by the sword’s edge openly,
Take then the equipment of an oar, and go
Forth on thy travels till thou reach a race
Of men who know not of the sea, nor eat
BOOK XI.
123—158.

168 ODYSSEUS CONVERSES

Mix’d with their food its salt, nor e’er have seen
Red-ribbéd galleys nor well-furnished oars
Which are as wings to galleys. This the sign
That thou hast reached them, which I clearly tell,
Lest else thou fail to see it. When a man
Crossing thy path exclaims—thou bearsi a flail
Across an arméd shoulder !—on that spot

Plant in the earth thine oar, and dedicate

An altar with the threefold sacrifice

Of a black bull, a ram, and lusty boar,

To King Poseidon: thence returning, reach
Home, and again give hallow’d hecatombs

To all the Immortals habitant in heaven

One after other. So shall Death at last
Appearing from the sea in gentle guise

Take thee, in ripe old age, and round thee all
Thy people shall be blest. I tell thee true.’

He ceased; to whom in answer I replied:
‘These things, Teiresias, the great Gods ordain.
But tell me also this. I see the Ghost
Of my dead mother, sitting near the blood
But silent, neither daring to address
Her son, or look upon him, face to face.

How may she know that I indeed am he?’

I spoke ; to whom in answer he replied:

“1 will instruct thee of an easy mode.
Whomever of these dim Spirits of the dead
Thou suffer to approach and taste the blood,
He shall inform thee truly all thou askst ;
Whom thou refusést, he will turn him back.’

Speaking, the Shade of King Teiresias passed,
After delivery of his oracles,

To Hades’ house away. But I remained
Motionless, till my mother came, and drank

Of the black blood—then forthwith knew her son,
And in lament addressed me thus, and said:

“How, mine own Child, how, living, hast thou come
To this far mist-dimm’d region of the west ?
Awful for living man to see these things!

For mighty rivers part us—dreadful streams ;
The Ocean first, which none may ford on foot,
WITH THE SHADE OF HIS MOTHER _ 169

Nor cross, unless he hath a well-wrought bark. BOOK XI.
Or hast thou wandered hither astray from Troy, 159—187.
Longwhile belated with thy ship and crew,
Neither reached Ithaca thy home at all,
Nor seen thy wife still lonely in thy house ?’

She spoke ; to whom in answer I returned:
‘My mother, sore constraint hath brought me here
To Hades’ house—to seek an oracle
Of great Teiresias’ Shade, the Theban seer.
For from the day I followed first the call
Of noble Agamemnon to the war
With Ilion and to Troy’s horse-pasturing fields,
Near to Achaia I have ne’er returned,
Not once have landed on our native shore,
But to and fro in piteous plight am driven.
But tell me this and fearless speak me true.
What was the manner of all-destroying death
That laid thee prostrate? Lingering loathed disease ?
Or did fair arrow-loving Artemis
Pass o’er thee with her gentle darts and slay?
And of my father tell, and of the child
I left behind me. Is mine ancient state
Still theirs? Or doth some stranger hold it now,
While the folk say that I return no more?
And of my wedded wife—what mind is hers,
What counsel? With the child abides she still,
Keeping all things in place? Or hath some Chief
(Whomever of the Achaians she hath deemed
Noblest) already wedded her again ?’

I spoke; the queen my mother made reply:
‘Ah, but in patience most exceeding sad
She suffers, in thy house abiding still ;
And ever in tears her wretched nights and days
Wear themselves out. Thine ancient high estate
No stranger yet usurpeth ; but at peace
Telemachus maintains thy old demesnes,
Associate in all banquets as beseems
A judge amongst the people ; for all men
Invite him thereunto. But out afield
Thy father dwells in solitude nor comes . -
Into the city, nor in olden wont
BOOK XI.
188—220.

170 WHOM HE ATTEMPTS TO EMBRACE

On beds with mantles and soft glossy rugs
Taketh his rest, but during winter-tide

Sleeps like his household slaves upon the earth
Within the house beside the fire, and fouls

His raiment ; but, when summer comes and all
The glow of harvest, makes in any place

Along the laden vineyard with fallen leaves

His bed upon the ground, and so lies down
Grieving, and still his sorrow waxeth more

For lamentation of thy fate unknown.

Sore too the pressure now of his old age.

And in the self-same grief I died myself

And drew my fate upon me. In our halls

The arrow-loving Goddess sure of aim

Passed not with sudden darts nor painless slew:
Nor came such malady as oftest takes

Life from our limbs by lingering loathed decay ;
Nay, but fond longings after thee in vain,

And for thy glorious counsels, O my son,

And for thy loving kindness, took my life !’

She spoke ; and I most earnestly desired
To hold my Mother’s Spirit in mine arms ;
Thrice I sprang forward for the dear embrace ;
Thrice like a shadow or a dream it slid
Out of my hands; my sorrow wax’d the more;
And | addressed her thus with wingéd words:

‘My mother, wherefore waitst thou not to take
My dear embrace, that even in Death’s abode
Fond arms around each other we might cast
Once more, and with lament relieve our hearts ?
Or what false Phantom this, create and sent
To mock me by august Persephone,

Only that I, beguiled, may mourn the more?’

I spoke ; the Queen my mother answered thus:
‘Ah me, most hapless of mankind my child !
Herein the Zeus-born Queen Persephone
Deceives thee not; but this the ordinance
To all of mortal race whene’er they die.

With blood and flesh no more their nerves are clothed ;

But these the enkindled might of flaming fire,

When breath hath left the white-bleach’d bones, con-
sumes ;
AND WITH TYRO AND OTHER SHADES 171

Whilst, dreamlike, far away the Spirit flits. BOOK XI.
But now strive upward to the light again, 221—256.
And lay these things to heart, that on the earth
Hereafter thou mayst tell them to thy wife.’
Thus we our converse interchanged: but now
Sent by Persephone their Queen august
The Shades of all such women came as erst
Were wives and daughters of Earth’s greatest men.
And I took counsel how to question each;
This seemed the sagest counsel, off my thigh
To draw the sharp-edged sword, nor suffer all
To come or drink together of the blood.
So, one by one, they came, and each declared
Her generation, and I questioned all.

“ Great-fathered Tyro thus I first beheld,
Who said she was begotten of the King
Salmoneus, and became the Zolid’s wife
Kretheus; and how, enamoured of the Stream
Enipeus (fairest of all earthly Streams),

She of his waters oft would make her haunt ;
And how, in his fair likeness guised, the God,
Who shakes the earth and clasps it with the sea,
Lay with her at the eddying River’s mouth.
Around them arched, a purple billow stood

Like to a mountain, hiding in its midst

The God and mortal woman, whilst He loosed
Her maiden girdle and induced sweet sleep.
Anon, when He had had his loving will,

Fast to her hand He clung, and spake, and said:

‘Rejoice thee, Lady, in my love; and when
A year rolls round fair children shall be thine ;
Not without fruit the embraces of the Gods.
Cherish them well, and nourish. Now return
To thine own house in quiet; name me not;
But I, Poseidon, am thy lover now.’

He spoke, and sank into the billowy main.
But she, conceiving, brought forth two fair sons,
Pelias and Neleus: both of mighty Zeus
Became the valiant servants; Pelias dwelt
In wide-spaced Iaolchos, rich in flocks ;
BOOK XI.
257—284.

172 OF ANCIENT QUEENS

In sandy Pylos Neleus found his home.
But other sons to Kretheus that fair Queen
Yielded, first 4Eson, Pheres second born,
And Amathaon mighty on the car.

“ Next after her I saw Antiopé
The daughter of Asopus. In the bed
Of Zeus she boasted her delight, and bare
Two children, Zethus and Amphion. These
Built.up the abode of seven-gated Thebes
And fenced it round with towers: though men of might,
They could not dwell in wide-spaced Thebes unwall’d.

“Next after her I saw Amphitryon’s wife -
Alcmena, who upon the bed of Zeus
Conceived the hero of the lion-heart
Brave staunch-enduring Hercules: with her
Came Megara, haught Kreion’s daughter, and wife
Wedded to famed Amphitryon’s fiery son.

‘“‘ Pair Epicasta after these I saw,
Mother of GEdipds. A monstrous act,
But all unconscious of her deed, she did,
Wedding her son—and he, before he wed,
Had witless slain his father! Al! which shame
Quite suddenly the Gods made known to men.
He by the cruel ordainment of the Gods
O’er the Cadmeians in delightful Thebes
Reigned sorrowing on; but she entwined a noose
Sheer from her lofty palace-roof, and so
To the dread Warder of the gates of Death
Departed, vanquished by her deep despair,
To CEdipus bequeathing all the woes
The Furies for a mother’s cause require.

“Next I saw Chloris, most exceeding fair,
Whom of old time for that her beauty’s sake
Neleus with countless wedding-gifts obtained,
The youngest daughter to Amphion born,
(Amphion son of Jasus who reigned
With might in Minyan Orchomenus).
CHLORIS, LEDA, IPHIMEDEIA 173

But she was queen in Pylos, where she bare BOOK XI.
To Neleus noble issue, three brave sons, 285—313.
Famed Nestor, and great Periclymenus,

And Chromius, and, beside, one daughter fair,

A marvel for her strength to mortal men,

Pero, whom all the princes round about

Woo’d to their bed, but Neleus gave to none,

Saving to him, who should from Phylacé

Drive the broad-fronted hornéd kine untamed

Stolen from him by the might of Iphiclus.

Only the blameless Seer Melampus pledged

A promise thence to bring them ; but sad chance,

Ordained by Gods, long kept him back, and chains

Burdensome, and the strong-limb’d cowherd-churls ;

Till, when the months and days in circuit full

Of one revolving year had run their course,

Through the returning seasons, then the might

Of Iphiclus released him in reward

For revelation of prophetic lore.

Howbeit, the will of Zeus was done thereby.

“Next I saw Leda, wife of Tyndarus,
Who to her lord brought forth two valiant sons,
Castor, the champion of all charioteers,
And Polydeuces, peerless in the ring.
Both these in earth, life-gendering earth, now lie;
But breathing yet and holding underground
From Zeus high honour; since, alternately,
One day with other, they both live and die,
And have their part in glory like to Gods.

“ Iphimedeia next I looked upon,
Aloéus’ wife, but on Poseidon’s bed
She told me that she lay and thence conceived
Two god-like children, doomed to early death,
Otus, and Epialtes far-renowned.
The greatest Giants they, whom generous Earth
Hath nourished ever, and most beautiful
After far-famed Orion. At nine years,
Nine cubits broad, nine fathoms high, they stood,
And in Olympus threatened against the Gods
BOOK XI.
314—339,

174. PH/EDRA, PROCRIS, AND ERIPHYLE

To wake a turmoil of bewildering war:

Ossa upon Olympus they aspired

And Pelion’s peak on Ossa to upheave,

That there might be a ladder into Heaven.

Had they reached manhood, they had done their will;
But He, whom fair-haired Lato bare to Zeus,
Destroyed them both or e’er the tender down
Bloomed ‘neath their brows or darkened either cheek.

“‘ Pheedra, and Procris, next I looked upon,
And lovely Ariadne ; she was child
Of deadly-minded Minos, but was rapt
From Crete by Theseus sailing for the soil
Of sacred Athens. Yet he ne’er enjoyed
Her beauty; for in Dia’s sea-girt isle
He perished by the shafts of Artemis,
For the false witness Dionysus gave
Of profanation to her temple done.*

“ Moera, and Clymene, I next beheld,
And hateful Eriphylé—her who took
Gold for her lord’s betrayal.

All the Shades

Daughters and wives of Heroes whom I saw
Ere I could name and tell you, sacred Night
Were quite consumed. And now the hour hath come
For slumber, whether here, or should I seek
The galley. But to you and to the Gods
Be the provision of my conduct hence.”

He ended; through the dusky hall they sate
Mute-stricken, conquered by the charm awhile.
White-arm’d Arete first began address:

“ Phzeacian Chiefs! What manner of man doth this,
For beauty and stature and for mind within,

Show in your sight? And he is now my guest,
And each of you hath honourable state,
So haste not his departure ; nor to one

*T venture to insert this line in order to explain the story of his
death, and the nature of the false evidence that caused it.
IN REPLY TO ALCINOUS 175

Who speaketh like a Seer oracular, BOOK XI.
Be sparing of our gifts ; for great the wealth 340—372.
Stored by the Gods’ good pleasure in your homes,”

The agéd Hero Echenaius then,

Eldest by birth of all Phzeacians, spake:

“ Sage is our Queen exceedingly and speaks

Not widely from our expectation’s scope ;
Whom we obey: but on Alcinous here
Approval of this word and deed now hangs ”.

To whom Alcinous thus replied, and said:
“If I indeed am living and am King
Of this Phzeacian race of mariners,
This word shall come to pass. So let our guest,
Though burning for departure, be content
This night right through and till the morrow’s dawn
To tarry, whilst I make our gifts complete.
His escort hence shall be our care, and most
To me who in this town have sovereignty.”

To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:
« Alcinous, of this people sovran King!
Though a year long ye bade me here remain
(So only that ye furnish conduct safe
And bring gifts goodly), I were well content.
Yea, it were better far that I should reach
My own dear native land with hands well-filled :
So all men’s love and reverence were increased
When they behold me back in Ithaca.”

To whom Alcinous then replied, and said:
“Odysseus, we who see thee may not make
Conjecture of thee, as of one whose tongue
Imposes guile or thieves away our hearts.

Such men as now, wide-scattered, this black Earth
Nurseth in many nations, men who build

Their falsehoods up from sources none can find!
But in thee shows a grace of speech most true
And all-surpassing wisdom ; like some bard

Skilful hast thou unfolded all thy tale,

The Argives’ sad misfortunes and thine own.

But tell me this, if thy brave comrades’ ghosts
Thou also sawést—those who followed thee

To Jlion’s walls and there brought down their fate.
BOOK XI.
373—405.

176 ODYSSEUS NEXT NARRATES

Long is the night and dreary in these parts;

Nor yet the hour for slumber in my house.

Relate me therefore still thy godlike deeds ;

Till sacred morning I could bear to hear,

If thou so long enduredst to tell thy woes.”
To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:

“ Alcinous, of this people sovran King!

A time there is for long discourse—a time

Also for slumber ; yet, if still thou longst

To hear me, | in no wise grudge to tell

Those other yet more piteous woes endured

By my brave comrades who survived the war.

The mournful battle-cry of Troy they ’scaped,

Only to perish in the long return,

By mischief of one evil woman slain.

“For when the holy Queen Persephone
Had chased the women’s frailer Shades away
Hither and thither scattered—then appeared
The Spirit of Agamemnon, Atreus’ son,
Sorrowing, and round him gathered all who fell
Slain with him in A2gisthus’ house, and there
Brought their sad fates upon them. Having drunk
Of the black blood, he knew me, and forthwith
Burst into tears and shrill lament, and stretched
His hands towards me whom he yearned to reach.
But now no longer in him strength abode
Nor vital motion such as made his limbs
Supple in life: whom I beholding wept
And pitied in my heart, and thus addressed:
‘Most glorious Agamemnon, Atreus’ son,
And King of men! What lamentable fate
Laid thee thus prostrate? Did Poseidon’s wrath
Subdue thee midst thy galleys by a blast
Of evil winds in tempest undesired ?
Or upon land did men thine enemies
Thus injure thee, whilst thou wast compassing
Their oxen or their fatten’d flocks of sheep
Or battling for their women and their town ?’
I spoke, and he in answer made reply:
‘ Laertes’ son, Odysseus, Zeus-born Chief!
HIS COMMUNE WITH AGAMEMNON | 177

Neither Poseidon quelled me by a blast BOOK XI.
Of evil winds in tempest undesired ; 406—434,
Nor upon land did men mine enemies

Injure me thus; but with my murtherous wife
Egisthus wrought upon me this doom’d death,
Slaying me, like a bullock in a stall,

Sitting at feast, and guested in his house.

So in most piteous death myself I fell

And round me these brave comrades, massacred
Remorselessly like any white-tusk’d swine

Killed in the mansion of some powerful Chief
For wedding-feast or other rich regale.

Ofttimes thyself hast faced the slaughter of men,
But battling hand to hand and in fair fight ;

And most hadst thou lamented, hadst thou seen
How round the wine-cup and the loaded board
Within that hall we lay, and all the floor
Smoked with our blood! Most piteous rang the cry
Of Priam’s child Cassandra in mine ears,

Whom traitorous Clytemnezestra at my side
Murdered, while, dying, writhing o’er a sword,*

I dropt to earth my vainly-lifted hands,

And from my prayer the strumpet turned away!
Nor, though I thus was passing down to death,
Cared she to shut mine eyes or close my mouth.
Nothing in nature is more unabashed,

More monstrous, than a woman, when she once
Casts in her mind such deeds as she my wife
Plotted, most vilely wreaking on her lord
Outrageous murder! I, alas, had said

How to my children and to all my house

I was returning welcome; she, the while,

By that excess of evil in her soul,

On her own head was bringing down this shame ;

* This interpretation of a difficult passage is quoted by Dr. Merry
from Seiler and Kéniginhoff. It was previously understood as :—

“Tin vain at Death’s last gasp
Lay groping for my sword along the ground”.

But this involves a separation of dacyave from a&moévicxwv to which
it more naturally belongs.
12
BOOK XI,
435—466,

178 IN THE KINGDOM OF GHOSTS

Yea, on all women of all future times
It falls, involving even the good and true.’

He spoke, and I gave answer thus, and said:
‘From the beginning, verily, twas so;

By women’s wiles broad-glancing Zeus hath wreaked
On Atreus’ generation all his hate:

Therefore for Helen’s sake have myriads died,

And Clytemneestra laid for thee this snare’.

I spoke, and he in answer straightway said:
‘Therefore remember ; yield not overmuch
Unto thy wife; whate’er thy mind’s intent,
Reveal not all; part tell her, part withhold.
But safely thou mayst put away this fear ;

Not from thy wife thy murther will proceed ;
For sage is she, and custom’d to good thoughts,
Icarius’ daughter, wise Penelope

Whom we left, late a bride, when forth we sailed
To war with Troy, and on her breast thy child,
An infant then, but now he sits, I trow,

High on the roll of men—ah happy child,
Whom thy dear father coming home will see,
And who wilt fold him in a son’s embrace!

My son my wife allow’d not to mine eyes,

But slew me ere 1 saw him! Let me give
One counsel more, and cast it in thy mind.
Keep thy arrival in thy native land

Well hidden ; steer not openly to port;

For now in woman can be faith no more}

But tell me also this, and truly speak,

If of my son still living ye have heard

In sandy Pylos, or Orchomenus,

Or haply in broad Lacedzmon’s streets
Dwelling with Menelaus; for, I trust,

Divine Orestes is not dead on earth.’

He spoke ; but I gave answer thus, and said:
‘ Atrides, wherefore ask of me these things ?
How may I know if he be quick or dead ?

And to no purpose it were ill to speak.’

Thus we in interchange of mournful words

Sorrowing together stood, and both in tears.
AND WITH ACHILLES WHO 179

“The Spirits of great Achilles Peleus’ Son, BOOK XI.
Patroclus, and renowned Antilochus, 467498.
Next came, and Ajax of the Danaan Chiefs
For beauty and stature, after Peleus’ son,
Surpassing all. The blameless Hero’s Shade,
Achilles of the house of AEacus,

First knew me, and, lamenting, spoke, and said:

‘ Laertes’ Son, Odysseus, Zeus-born Chief!
Most restless Heart! What greater deed than this
Remains for thy adventure yet to do?

How hast thou travelled down to Hades’ realm,
Into these dwellings of the senseless Dead,
The Shades of mortal men, whose works are done ?’

He spoke, to whom in answer I return'd:

‘ Achilles, of Achaians noblest Chief,
Renown’d Peleion! Blind Teiresias’ Shade
I came to question, if he might inform

Of means whereby to rugged Ithaca

I might return; for, since I first left home,
Near to Achaia I have ne’er approached,
Not once have landed on my native shore,
But still am tossed in evils to and fro.

But thou, Achilles—as of old no man

Was happier, so hereafter none will be.
Alive, we gave thee honour as to Gods ;

And here thou hast the mastery o’er the Dead.
Therefore repine not for thy death, O King!’

I spoke, but he in answer thus replied:

‘Nay, sage Odysseus; gloze me not my death.
For [ would liefer live a hireling serf,

To drudge for ever in a master’s field—

Some poor man’s field with little substance blest—
Than reign the Monarch here of all the Dead!
Rather inform me of my noble son.

Came he to be pre-eminent in war ?

And tell me, if of blameless Peleus aught

Hath reach'd thine ears. Do men dishonour him
In Phthia or in Hellas? Since old age

Now binds him, hand and foot, nor I am near
(No more abiding in the sun-lit earth),

To stand his helper by that olden might
BOOK XI.
499—531.

180 INQUIRES CONCERNING HIS SON

Wherewith in Troy’s rich fields for Argos’ sake
I slew the foe by thousands. Could | stand
But for a moment in my father’s house
Such as I was of yore, right soon, I ween,
My arm in terror were advanced on those
Who do him violence, or stint his state.’

He spoke, to whom in answer I replied:
‘ Of blameless Peleus nought hath reach’d mine ears.
But of thy son, loved Neoptolemus,
I tell thee, as thou biddest, all the truth.
For I myself aboard my hollow bark
Brought him from Scyros to our mailéd host.
There in our councils round Troy-wall he spoke
First ever, nor in speech was found amiss ;
Nestor and mine own self his only peers.
But on the field of battle, when we fought
About the city, never he withdrew
Into the general turmoil, but would range
Far forward, yielding in his might to none.
Many the men in dreadful fight he slew.
Needs not that I rehearse thee all the names
Of the large host he slew in Argos’ cause ;
Enough to name the son of Telephus
Eurypylus, a hero whom his sword
In single fight subdued ; around whom fell
A troop of comrades whom King Priam’s gifts,
Made to the Chieftain’s mother, brought to Troy.
Eurypylus I saw, of mortal men
The fairest after Memnon born divine.
And when we couched us in the giant Horse,
Built by Epeius, and the charge was given
To me o’er Argos’ bravest, or to keep
The ambush closed, or open, as | would—
The other Danaan Nobles therewithin
Had tears to wipe away, and oft their limbs
Would tremble; but upon thy son I looked,
Nor once beheld his fair complexion change
Nor tears upon his cheek to wipe away;
Who oft of me implored a sally forth
Out of the horse, and oft his sword-hilt felt
Or heavy spear, full fain to burst on Troy.
AND WITH AJAX 181

Last, when at length we plundered Priam’s streets, BOOK XI.
With his full meed and portion of the spoil 532—567.
He went aboard his bark, unhurt by wounds
Of sword or javelin, such as chance in war,
Where Ares rageth in a mingled crowd.’
I spoke ; the Shade attentive heard, and strode
Over the meadow of asphodel away
With larger steps exultant that I named
His son so glorious in the world of men.

“ Now all the other Phantoms of the Dead
Stood near me, mourning, telling each his grief ;
Only the Shade of Ajax Telamon’s son
Rested aloof in anger for the strife
Adjudged amongst the ships and won by me
For that famed armour of Achilles there
Proffer’d by heavenly Thetis for a prize.

Athené and our Trojan prisoners

Adjudged the strife betwixt us; yet I would

I had not conquered, ev’n for that rich prize;
Since for its sake so dear a man was slain,
Great Ajax, who for beauty and feats of arms
Exceeded all save Peleus’ blameless son!
With gentle words I sought him, and | said:

‘Ajax, O son of blameless Telamon!

Wilt thou not even in death forego the wrath
Thou bearst against me for those evil arms,
Which Gods to Argos made the veriest curse ?
Since thou, our bulwark, for their sake wast slain.
For thy most utter ruin, body and mind,

We mourned, O Chieftain, as for Peleus’ Son.
Howbeit to none impute it save to Zeus,

Zeus, who of some strong hatred toward the host
Of arméd Argives laid on thee thy fate.

Come, therefore, reconciled, and hear my words ;
Subdue thine anger and this mood misproud.’

I spoke ; but he deigned no reply, and passed
Following the others into Erebus,

Yet haply in his wrath had answered there,
Or I had readdressed him, but I longed
Rather to see the other Shades in hell,
BOOK XI.
568—600.

182 HOW ALSO HE BEHELD

“ Minos I saw, the radiant son of Zeus ;
Gold sceptre in his hand he sate, and judged
Amongst the Phantoms, who around the King
Expectant stood in Hades’ wide-doored hall,
Before him each in turn to plead his cause.

“Orion next, a Giant, I beheld
Still driving o’er the meadow of asphodel
Wild beasts in crowd together, by himself
Chased on the solitary hills of old;
A brazen club unbroken in his hands.

“ Next I saw Tityus, son of glorious Earth,
There on the pavement stretched, a giant length
Nine roods he lay, and perched on either side
Two vultures at his liver tare, and plunged
Ev’n to his bowels their beaks: no whit his hands
Availed to stay them: for of old he dared
Use force on Leto who was spouse to Zeus,

As on her way to Pytho’s holy shrine
She passed through Phocis and broad Panopeus.

“Tantalus too I saw, in torments sunk ;
For in a lake he stood that washed his chin ;
Panting for thirst, he could not drink thereof ;
For when the old man stooped, the water straight
Shrank from his lips and vanish’d, leaving bare
The earth beneath—a God dried up the stream.
And from above him lofty-foliaged trees
Drooped with ripe fruits, pomegranates rich, and pears,
And apples, blooming olive, and sweet fig ;
Yet whensoe’er he reached a hand to taste,
The wind dissolved them in the shadowy clouds.

‘‘ Sisyphus too I saw, in torments held,
Heaving a weight stupendous; who, with toil
Of hands and feet still thrusting, pushed a stone
Up a hill-side ; but, when ’twould now o’ertop
The summit, some strong Power aye turned it back,
And to the plain the monstrous mass rolled down.
His limbs were steaming; off his head rose dust.
HEROES OF MORE ANCIENT TIMES _ 183

“Next I beheld the might of Hercules— BOOK XI.
His Phantom rather—for himself he lives 601—637,
With the immortal Gods in blissful feast,

And hath fair-ankled Hebe to his bed,

The Child of gold-shod Here and of Zeus.

A clamour round about him as from birds

Rose from the flutter’d Ghosts; like lowering Night
He moved amongst them, in his hands a bow
Naked, with arrow on the string, and cast

Keen eyes around him as at point to shoot.

The awful baldric worn across his breast

Was an all-golden belt, whereon was wrought
Godlike adornment—bears, and wilder boars,
Lions flame-eyed—manslayings—battles—deaths.
May he, who in his craft designed that belt,
Never design another! The great Shade
Perceived me, and lamenting spoke. and said:

‘Laertes’ Son, Odysseus, Zeus-born Chief!
Unhappy man, methinks thoy leadst a life
Ill-fated, such as on the sun-lit earth
Myself endured. Albeit Kroneion’s Son,
I suffered endless sorrows: under hest
Of one much baser than myself I lay,
And grievous tasks he enjoined me. Hither once
He sent me to bring up the Hound of hell ;
No task than this more grievous could he find.
Howbeit from Hades’ house I brought it forth.
Athene and Hermeias helped me through.’

He spoke, and passed in Hades’ halls away.

‘But I remained unmoved, if haply more
Of Heroes, dead in olden times, might come:
And I had seen the men for whom I longed,
Pirithoiis, and Theseus, sons of Gods
Most glorious, but by myriads now the Dead
’Gan gather up, with weird unearthly sound,
So that pale fear possessed me, lest anon
Their Queen, august Persepinione, should send
Some monster’s Gorgon head to freeze me there.
Therefore returning to the ship I bade
The crew embark and loose the ropes astern.
184 AND HENCE RETURNED BY OCEAN

Book xt, All soon in order due had ta'en their seats,
838—640. And the strong current down the ocean-stream
Bare the bark on, at first by help of oars,
But soon behind us rose a favouring breeze,
HE BURIES ELPENOR IN AXA 185

ODYSSEY XII.

“When we had left the Ocean-River’s stream, BOOK XII.
Into the billowy broad-way’d sea we passed 1—25.
Back to AZza’s island. There the place.

Of Dawn’s abiding, and the dancing Hours,

And the bright Sun’s uprisings. Soon we moored
Our galley in the sands, and on the shore

In slumber lying, waited Morn divine.

“ With the first rise of rosy-fingered Morn
I sent my comrades into Circe’s halls
To bring the body of Elpenor thence.
Large timber then we hasted to cut down,
And, where a headland jutted from the coast,
Sorrowing, and with warm tears upon our cheeks,
We made his burial. When the fire had burned
The corse, and all the armour on the corse,
We heaped his cairn, and dragged a pillar up,
And on the summit set his bladed oar.

“« Such were the several rites we there performed.
But meanwhile our return from Hades’ realm
Pass’d not unmark’d by Circe, but in haste
She gat her ready and came down, with whom
Her handmaids bare much corn and many meats
And sparkling wine of ruddy countenance ;

Soon in our midst the stately Goddess spake :

‘Unquiet Hearts! Who, living though ye be,
Have yet descended into Hades’ house,

And twice have faced the death that men meet once!
Arise, refresh ye now with food and wine

The whole day through ; and with to-morrow’s dawn
Sail onward; unto whom myself will show
BOOK XII.
26—59.

186 CIRCE WARNS HIM OF THE SIRENS

The voyage, and declare you every sign,
Lest else by some ill weaving of new woes
On sea or land ye be again distressed.’
She spoke, and gain’d our dauntless hearts’ consent.

“Therefore the whole day through to set of sun
On her exhaustless meats and on sweet wine
Feasting we sate, till, when the darkness came,
The others laid them down: but me she led
Apart from all my comrades by the hand
Unto a seat, and, clinging to me close,

’Gan question how each thing befell; and I
Told all in order, till at last She spake :

‘ These things indeed have thus been brought to pass.
But hear what next I tell; too oft the God
Hereafter to thy mind will bring my words.

First to the Sirens’ isle thou soon wilt come,
Enchantresses of whomsoe’er they see.

For who, not knowing of them, comes and hears
Their voices, never wife nor infant child

He gladdens standing in his home return’d,

But by the Sirens’ liquid song is held

For ever: and in the meadow where they sing
About them rotting heaps of human bones

Lie, and the mouldering skin in shreds thereon.
Pass swift by these, and o’er thy comrades’ ears
Smear moulded wax that none may hear the charm
Save thee; but hear them, if thou list, thyself:

Yet mind thee, first be lash’d, both hand and foot,
Upright against the mast, with strong cords strained:
So only mayst thou take delight therein.

And, shouldst thou bid thy comrades set thee loose,
Imploring, let them bind thee with more chains.

““*When beyond these thy crew hath rowed thee on,
What then shall be thy course, I tell no more
Certain, but take thou counsel with thyself
Betwixt the two; I tell thee either way.

««« Along one passage overarched impend
Rocks, and against them raving ever roars
OF SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 187

Dark-facéd Amphitrité’s mighty tide: BOOK XII.
The blissful Gods name these the Roaming Rocks. 60—90.
But by this passage not the fowls of air

Pass safely, not the quivering doves that fetch
For Father Zeus ambrosia, but a cliff

Crusheth each time the life of one of these,

And in its place the Father addeth one.

Nor yet hath any galley of men that came
Escaped that strait, but all are whirled away,

The mariners’ bodies and the shattered planks
Commingied in fierce waves and blasts of fire.
Only that one seafaring ship sail’d through,

Argo, of whose adventure all men know,
Returning from /Eztes; yet ev’n She

Had foundered, dashed against these roaming Rocks,
Had not great Here helped her through the strait,
Heré, for Jason to her heart was dear.

But by the second way, like watch-towers, rise
Two cliffs—one piercing high into broad heaven
With pointed summit which a darksome cloud
Enwrapping ne’er relaxes; clear blue sky

Neither in summer nor in winter tide

That peak possesses ; nor could mortal man
Ascend it, nor descend, though for that use

A score of hands, a score of feet, were given ;

For smooth as polish’d marble rise its sides.

But halfway down is set a mist-like cave,

That westward looks tow’rd Erebus—just where,
Odysseus, ye will steer your ship along.

No lusty archer from a boat below

Could send his arrow to that cavern’s mouth ;

But Scylla—Scylla of the dreadful bark—
Dwelleth therein, whose voice is as the yelp

Of new-born cub, but She a shape deform,
Monster accurséd, whom not even a God

Meeting would joy beholding. Twelve her feet,
Unlovely * all; six necks, exceeding long,

*&wpo. Ofthe many interpretations suggested for this word I have
adopted that of the Scholiast from &pa. Dr. Merry inclines, however,
to the derivation from aiwpé, ‘‘pendulous”’; Nitzsch to that from
aelpoua, ‘‘ forefeet?; others to that trom épa in the sense of maturity,
i.c., “imperfect. Vide Merry ad locum,
BOOK XI.
91—124,

188 THE DANGERS OF THE STRAIT

She stretcheth forth, and to each neck a head,
Most dire, with three thick rows of teeth within,
Teeming with slaughter black, and gaping grim.
Inside the hollow cavern to her waist

She lieth, but above the dreadful gulf

Thrusts out her heads and peering round the cliff
Thence fisheth up what dolphins or sword-fish
Or larger whale may come from out the herds
Nursed by sad Amphitrité in the sea.

Never have mariners boasted an escape
Scathless this way ; but with each head She dives
And off the dark-prowed ship each plucks a man.

“«The adverse peak, Odysseus, thou wilt see,
Lower (but each within a bowshot stands
Near to the other), and a fig-tree grows
Thereon, wide-branching, in full leafy bloom.
Beneath its shade divine Charybdis gulps
The deep black water under ; thrice a day
She breathes it up, and thrice she sucks it down
With swirl tumultuous: pray the Gods most high,
Thou there alight not, when She swallows it down.
Not ev’n Poseidon could preserve thee then!
Rather hug closely Scylla’s rock and drive
Swiftly thy galley; better much to mourn
Six brave companions lost, than all the crew!’

She spoke, to whom in answer I returned:

“Yet tell me this, O Goddess, if perchance
The dire Charybdis | might still avoid,
And yet forefend that other from my men?’

I spoke; the stately Goddess answered thus:
‘Unquiet Heart, to deeds of battle and toil
Devoted ever! To eternal Gods
Wilt thou not yet submit? No mortal She,
Abominate, invulnerable, fierce ;

No strength avails against her—best is flight!

And, shouldst thou tarry to arm thee near her rock,
I dread lest She a second time pounce forth

With the six heads, and take six victims more.
Rather row on with all thy might, and shout

Loud to her dam Krataiis—her who brought
AND OF THE CATTLE OF THE SUN _ 189

Into the world this curse—and who perchance BOOK XII,
Will stay her then from further onset forth. 125—156.

“«¢Thence thou wilt reach Thrinakia’s isle, where graze
The rich sleek sheep and cattle of the Sun;
Seven herds of oxen, fifty in each herd,
And sheep as many. But of these is no
Begetting, neither do they die; and Nymphs
Fair Phaéthusa and Lampetié
Tend them, the bright-hair’d daughters to the Sun,
Hyperion, of divine Nezra born.
These their great mother reared from infancy
And settled in Thrinakia’s isle, to dwell
Far off, and guard their father’s flocks and herds.
If ye can leave these sacred kine unharmed,
Setting your minds to nought save your return,
Then, howsoe’er ye suffer, yet at last
Ye shall all win to Ithaca your way.
But if at all thou harmst them, first I bode
Destruction to thy galley and thy crew,
And, though thine own self may escape that death,
Yet late indeed, and in an evil plight,
And every comrade lost, wilt thou return.’

Ev’n as she ended, gold-throned Morning came,
And through the isle the Goddess passed away.

‘ But I ’gan quicken to the ship the crew
To haste aboard and loose the ropes astern.
They came, and on the benches taking seat,
In order, smote the waves with well-timed oars.
The fair-haired Goddess with the human voice,
Mage Circe, in our dark-prowed galley’s wake
Sent us a boon companion, a fair breeze
Filling our sails ; and when our hands had ranged
The gear throughout the ship, we sate us down,
And let the wind and pilot bear it on.
But I with heavy heart addressed the crew:

“Not one, O Friends, nor two apart, should know
What heavenly Circe of her love divine
Hath told to me; and this I now reveal,
That not on men unknowing Fate may fall,
BOOK XII.
157—189.

190 THEY PASS THE SIRENS SAFELY

Whether we perish or whether we escape.

The voices of the heavenly Sirens first

And their fair meadow of flowers She bids us shun.

Me only She permits to hear their song.

Bind me first therefore in resistless bonds

Upright against the mast, with strong cords strain’d,

That hence, how fain soe’er, I may not move ;

And, if for their sweet singing I beseech

To loose me, bind me then with yet more chains.’
So to my comrades I revealed my tale:

While swiftly to the Sirens’ isle approached

Our well-built galley with the harmless breeze

Still strong behind us. But the wind then ceased

Suddenly, and a great calm came, for Gods

Lulled all the sea to slumber. Straight arose

My comrades and furled up and threw the sails

Into the galley’s hull, and taking seat

Over the rowlocks with the polished blades

’Gan churn the waters white; whilst I cut up

A large round cake of wax, and in my palms

Kneaded it, till it softened by constraint

Of my strong hands and King Hyperion’s rays:

Wherewith I then anointed, one by one,

My comrades’ ears. In turn they bound me fast

Upright aboard the ship with cords tight-strained,

And took their seats again and with long oars

Smote the grey billows, lightly driving on.

“When they were so far off as by a shout
A voice may travel, then the Sirens marked
The ship, and thus attuned their sweet-voiced lay:
‘Hither, O hither, thou of much renown,
Achaia’s boast, Odysseus! Stay thy ship
And listen to our singing. Ne’er hath passed
Any aboard his galley by this path
Ere he hath hearkened from our lips the strain
We hymn thus sweetly. So he goeth his way
After great pleasure and with love increased:
For all those things we know that in broad Troy
Trojans and Argives by the Gods’ high will
Endured together; yea, whatever things
AND APPROACH CHARYBDIS 191

Have happened on the teeming earth, we know.’ BOOK XII.
They spoke, and lovely was the voice they gave. 190—225.

My heart was fain to hear them, and I bade

My comrades loose me, nodding for a sign.

But they fell forward to their oars the more ;

And Perimedes and Eurylochus

Rose up, and bound me with yet heavier chains.

Not till we passed the Sirens and could hear

Their song no longer, would they move the wax

Out of their ears, or loose me from my bonds.

“We scarce had left the island, when forthwith
Smoke and a heavy sea we saw, and heard
Such uproar, that for sudden fear the oars
Dropt from our hands, and plashing in the wave
Hung idly, while the ship was stopt, impell’d
Onward no longer by our sweeping blades.
Moving about the galley, taking stand
Near each, I cheered them with these gentle words:
‘To ill, dear Friends, we are not uninured;
Nor this more threatening than when we were pent
Within his hollow den by might and main
Of the dire Cyclops; yet ev’n thence my wit,
My counsels, and my bravery, gat us forth ;
So in remembrance dear we yet may hold
Ev'n these disasters. Hear me, and obey.
Cease not to smite these breakers of the deep,
Still straining from the benches with your oars,
And Zeus perchance will save us from this death.
But, Pilot, this on thee I most enjoin,
And cast it well within thy mind, for thou
Turnest at will the rudder’s guiding gear ;
Clear off the side, whence comes yon smoke and surf,
Constrain the galley; to the adverse cliff
Cling constant ; lest perchance the ship should plunge
Yonder, or thou shouldst steer us into harm.’
I spoke ; they hastened to obey my word.

“ But nought of Scylla would I then reveal ;
Lest haply for that fear my comrades cease
Rowing, and hide them crowded in the hull.
BOOK Xl.
226—258.

192 SCYLLA DEVOURS SIX OF THE CREW

Only of one command by Circe given

I show’d forgetful, who forbade me arm;

But with two javelins in my hands, and clad

In all my famous arms, I paced the deck

To the ship’s prow, whence first I hoped to spy
Scylla, before She struck from off her rock.
Yet I beheld her not, albeit mine eyes

Were wearied, straining up that shadowy cliff.

“ So through the strait we rowed in utter dread ;
For on one side was Scylla; on the advérse,
Divine Charybdis, drawing with deep gulps
The salt sea-water down. But, when anon
She belched it forth again, then swirling round,
Like to a caldron on a fire, she seethed
For fury ; and the summits either side
Were all with foam bespattered. When anon
She sucked the salt sea-water in once more,
Swirling again, She naked showed within,
Bellowing in rage against the rock; and earth
Was bared below her, dark with nether sand.
Pale panic held us; and, whilst thus our eyes
Were fixed that way, in dread of death from Her,
Foul Scylla to my anguish off the deck
Plucked six my comrades who in might of arm
Were best amongst us. I had cast my eyes
Along the galley o’er my men, and saw
Already taken aloft their hands and feet
Quivering: and on my name they cried, and called
For the last time in agony of death!

As when a fisher on a headland stands

With rod exceeding long, and baits his guile
For the small tribes of fish; far out he casts
His line entwined with cow-horn on the sea
And catches soon and throws before his door
His gasping prey ; so these were upward drawn,
Gasping, to Scylla’s rock and there devoured
At her den’s mouth, shrieking, and stretching out
To me their hands—in that dire struggle dying!
Of all that I, while searching out the paths

Of the great deep, have suffered or beheld,
BEING BECALMED IN TRINACRIA _ 193

That was the sight most piteous to mine eyes. BOOK XU.
259—291.
‘‘When thus the Roaming Rocks and Scylla’s claws
And dire Charybdis had been passed, we came
Straight on the goodly island of the God
Where the broad-fronted cattle of the Sun
And his sleek sheep were grazing: out at sea
On my black galley from afar I heard
The stall’d kine lowing and the bleating sheep ;
And on my mind that solemn warning rung
By the blind Theban seer Teiresias given,
And what Ewan Circe eke enjoined
Most strongly, that we needs must shun the isle
Dedicate to the Sun, this world’s Delight ;
Therefore with heavy heart I spoke, and said:
‘Hear me, despite our sufferings, O my Friends!
Teiresias’ words oracular I repeat
And what AZzan Circe eke enjoined
Most strongly, that we needs must shun the isle
Dedicate to the Sun, this world’s Delight.
Our worst misfortunes, so She said, lie there ;
Speed the ship forward, therefore ; pass this isle.’
I spoke, but their dear hearts were broken down,
And with stern words Eurylochus rejoined :
‘Unquiet to thy wont! Exceeding great
Thy strength, Odysseus, nor thy limbs give way.
Yet, like thy frame, thy heart must iron be
Now to forbid thy comrades go ashore
With lack of slumber and fatigue worn out.
A goodly meal upon the sea-girt land
We there might well prepare us, whom thou biddst
Wander on rather through the darksome night
In this sad case across a shadowy sea
Far-beaten from our haven! Of black Night
The violent winds are bred which are to ships
Most hurtful: how may utter death be shunn’d
If sudden in the darkness falls a blast
Of Notus or of Zephyr’s evil breath,
The two who by the will of sovereign Gods
Lord it above us, and break up a ship?
Nay, let us rather follow Night’s behests,
13
BOOK XI.
292—327.

194. DURING THE SLUMBER OF ODYSSEUS

And resting by the galley’s side ashore
Recover us by food, and with the Dawn
To-morrow on the waters launch refreshed.’

He spoke, and all the crew applauding heard.
Too well I knew some God devised us harm,

But thus in answer gave my wingéd words:

‘Single I stand, Eurylochus, and ye
Are many, and constrain me. Nathless, swear
An oath together, from the flocks and herds
That there are found ye wholly will abstain ;

Be with the food content that Circe gave.’

I spoke, and, as I bade, they straight abjured
Those flocks and herds. But, when the oath was sworn,
Our well-built galley in a hollow bay
We anchored near fresh water; all the crew
Then landed, and prepared a goodly meal.

When the desire had passed of food and drink,
Then for remembrance of those comrades dear,
Clutched up and swallowed all in Scylla’s maw,
They wept; on whom still weeping fell sweet sleep.

“Twas the third watch of night, and stars had turned
Unto their fall, when cloud-commanding Zeus
With hurricane beyond all human speech
Woke a fierce tempest, wrapping land and sea
In clouds ; Night fell from heaven precipitate ;
So that when rosy-fingered Dawn appeared
We brought our ship ashore, and hauled it up
Into a cave, the haunt of many a Nymph
And of fair dances at the fountain’s brink;
And there I called a council, and I said:
‘Enough of food and drink we have on board.
Abstain ye wholly from these herds, O Friends,
Lest else we be destroyed. For know, that these
Boast them the sheep and cattle of a God,
The Sun, who seéth all things, heareth all.’
I spoke, and gain’d their dauntless hearts’ consent.

“ But all that month, unceasing, Notus blew,
Nor, save from him and Eurus, rose a breath.
Long as our corn and ruddy wine endured,
THE CREW DEVOUR THE SUN'S CATTLE 195

My comrades, for their love of life, abstained BOOK XII.
From the Sun’s cattle; and, even after all 328—360.
Had been consumed, at first would seek their prey,

Birds, fish, or whatsoe’er their hands might reach,

With snare or hook; for hunger pressed them sore.

Howbeit, one day I went apart, to make

Prayer to the Gods, if They would show the path

Of my return; and passing through the isle,

All uncompanion’d, at a sheltered spot

I cleansed my hands and called on the great Powers

Who on Olympus have their homes divine.

Across mine eyes They showered a painless sleep.

“Tl counsel then Eurylochus began:
‘Death in all shapes is hideous unto men;
But to be doomed to famine—this the worst!
Rise then, and of these cattle of the Sun
Seize out the best, and sacrifice thereof
To all Immortals habitant in Heaven,
But soothe their lord Hyperion with a vow
That, if hereafter to our native land
We win our way, a costly temple there
To His great Godhead we will build, and lay
Offerings upon the altar, many and rich.
Yea, though in anger for these hornéd kine
He fain would sink our galley, and the Gods
Grant him his pleasure—better yet I hold
In one last gasp to perish once for all
Drowned in the wave, than die by inches here,
So sorely straitened in a barren isle!’

He spoke, and all the others gave applause.

“The fair broad-fronted crumple-hornéd kine
Were grazing near at hand, and soon of these
They compassed round and seized the best, and prayed,
Sprinkling the victims with the tender leaves
Culled from a lofty-foliaged oak, for now
No grain of barley in the ship remained.
The prayers all ended, and the victims flayed,
The thighs they next dissever’d and enwrapt
In double folds of fat, but over these
196 ZEUS ON THE SUN’S COMPLAINT

BOOK xIl._ Raw slices laid, yet had no wine to shed

361—392. Over the burnt-offering, but of water made
Libations, as they dressed the inner parts.
The entrails tasted and the thighs consumed,
The other meat they sliced and pierced with spits.

“Then from my eyelids gentle Slumber passed.
Descending to the galley and the shore
As I drew nigh the bark, the savoury smell
Smote me, and sighing to the Gods I said:

‘Ah, Father Zeus, and all ye Gods who dwell
In bliss eternal! Pitiless was this sleep,
Wherein ye lulled me to our utter harm.
Monstrous the sacrilege these men commit!’

“Pull quickly bare long-robed Lampetié

The tidings to Hyperion, how my crew

Had slain his cattle ; and in wrath much-moved

Amongst the Immortals from his throne he spake:
‘Ah, Father Zeus, and all ye Gods who dwell

In bliss eternal! Wenge me on these men,

Laertes’ son Odysseus’ company,

Who in o’er-weening violence have slain

The kine, wherein was ever my delight,

Both when I came at eve to starry Heaven,

And when at morn I leaned me earthward back!

Yea, if a full requital be not mine

For these my cattle, I will go, and sink

To Hades’ realm, to shine amongst the Dead.’
And cloud-commanding Zeus in answer spake:

“Nay, on Immortals shine, as erst, O Sun,

And o’er the fruitful earth on mortal man;

For in the purpling billows’ midst anon

Their arrowy vessel I will strike and cleave

In splinters with a white-hot flash from heaven.’
These things fair-hair’d Calypso told to me,

And said She had them from great Hermes’ lips.

“« Descending to the galley and the sea,
One after other I assailed, and chid
Vainly—what cure was in the world to find
DESTROYS BOTH SHIP AND CREW _ 197

When slaughtered on the ground the cattle lay ? BOOK X11.
But signs portentous of the Gods were shown ; 393—428.
The hides ’gan creep; the flesh about the spits
Moan’d, dress’d or raw, with lowing as of kine.

“ But six days through my well-loved comrades bode
Feasting and of the cattle of the Sun
Seizing the best ; till, when Kroneion made
The seventh day perfect, from its tempest’s height
The wind surceased, and we embarked, and put
To sea again, and set our mast and sails.

“ Sea and sky only, nothing more of land,
Appeared before us, when we left that isle.
But soon Kroneion set a gloomy cloud
Impending o’er the galley, and the sea
Grew dark beneath it. Neither ran the ship
Long after ; but in furious hurricane
Came Zephyr, roaring loud; and either stay
Was sundered by the tempest from the mast,
So that the mast fell backward, with its gear
Confounded in the hold; and as it fell
Astern, it struck the pilot on his head
And crushed the skull entirely: off the deck
Dashed, like a diver down he plunged, and died.
Full thickly Zeus then thundered, and a bolt
Fell on the ship, which, smitten so, reeled round,
With sulphur choked, and overboard the crew
Went tumbled, and like sea-gulls round the bark
Were tossed upon the billows—of return
God so bereft them! 1 alone aboard
Still struggled, till the flood had loosed the ribs
Clear of the keel, and this showed floating bare.
Therefrom the mast had broken, but a stay,
Of oxhide wrought, had round it fallen, wherewith
I lashed it to the keel, and on the two
Onward I rode, the waif of deadly winds.

“Por Zephyr in the hurricane now paused
And yielded place to Notus; and a dread
Came on me, lest I thereby measure back
BOOK XII.
429453.

198 ODYSSEUS ESCAPES THROUGH CHARYBDIS

The way to dire Charybdis. All night long

I was borne thither, and at sunrise saw

Her whirlpool dread, and Scylla’s rock, again.
Even as I came, She drew the waters down;
But high I sprang, and to the fig-tree’s boughs
Added myself, and, like some night-bat, clung ;
Yet nowhere found firm footing whence to climb,
The roots being far away, the branches high
In air, and darkening with their shade the gulf.
But staunchly held I on, till She again

Should vomit forth the timbers, mast and keel.
Long seemed the time in my expectancy.

Late as from market-place a judge departs

To supper, after suits ’twixt clients heard,

So late those timbers from Charybdis seemed.
Then hand and foot I let me go, and dropt,
Plashing exactly, just beyond the planks,
Regained my seat, and rowing with both palms
Gat me safe through. The Father of the Gods
Made blind the eyes of Scylla; for had She
Beheld me, I had never escaped that death.

“Nine days I so was wafted ; on the tenth
At night Gods brought me to Ogygia’s isle.
Fair-haired Calypso’s dread Divinity
There dwelleth; and she speaks with human tongue,
And cherished me and loved me. But what need
To tell my story further? Yester-eve
To thee and thy brave Queen I gave the rest
In thine own chamber; and I much mislike
To tell a tale, once fully told, again.”
ALCINOUS THANKS AND REWARDS HIM_ 199

ODYSSEY XIII.

He ceased, and through the shadowy hall awhile BOOK XIII.
Silent, enraptured by the charm, they sate ; 1—25.
Till first Alcinous spoke in answer thus:

“ But, having entered now my brass-paven house,

Though sorely thou hast suffered hitherto,
Henceforth a froward course will not be thine.
Another charge I lay on all of you

Whose wont it is to quaff my old bright wine
And hear the voice of minstrel in my hall.
Raiment, and deep-chased gold, and all gifts, brought
By the Phzacian Council for our guest,

Lie stored already in a carven case ;

Let every one amongst us add to these

One caldron and large tripod ; and the cost
Hereafter we will reimbourse ourselves

By levy on all the people; sore the tax

For one man to bestow without return.”

Alcinous ended, and his counsel pleased ;
And all departed to their homes to sleep.

With the first rise of rosy-fingered Dawn
In haste they carried to the ship the brass ;
And this the might of King Alcinoiis
With his own hands stowed carefully away
Under the benches, lest some rower perchance
Should heedless do it damage, whilst they pulled
Speeding the vessel onward. To his house
The others went, and there prepared a feast.

For these the might of King Alcinous
Slaughtered a bull in sacrifice to Zeus
Who governs all things from his cloud-wrapt throne.
BOOK XIII.
26—57.

200 FAREWELL TO THE PHAZACIANS

They burned the thighs, but parted out the rest,
Rejoicing in the lordly banquet spread.
Midmost Demodocus, the bard divine,
Honoured amongst the nations, sweetly sang.
Only Odysseus ofttimes turned his head

To watch the blazing Sun, as though to speed
Its setting; such his longing to depart.

As he desires his evening meal, for whom

His tawny oxen all day long have drawn

A well-joined plough along a fallow field ;

As unto him most welcome sunset falls,

That he may go and seek his meal at eve, |
And his limbs droop beneath him as he goes;
So welcome to Odysseus sunlight sank ;

And straight to the Phzeacian mariners,

But mainly to their King, he showed his wish,
Thus saying: ‘‘ Alcinous, O illustrious King
Of all this people, make libation due,

And send me now untroubled on my way,

And so farewell! All, that my heart desired,
Is now complete—escort, and friendly gifts
Such as I pray the heavenly Gods may make
A blessing to my house. And may I find
When I reach home my blameless wife alive
With all I love unhurt! Abide ye here,

And cheer your wives and children; may the Gods
Vouchsafe all manner of virtue to your lot,
And may no evil thing amongst you lodge!”

He spoke; and all acclaiming heard, and bade
Speed their guest forth, for he had spoken well:
Therefore Alcinous to the herald said:

“ Mingle the cup, Pontonous, and dispense
Wine through the hall, that, after prayer to Zeus
Our Father, we may send this stranger forth”.

He ended; and Pontonous mixed the bowl
With honey-tasted wine, and, drawing near
One after other, gave it unto each.

Each at his own seat poured his offering out
In worship to the blissful Gods in Heaven.
Then rose renowned Odysseus and approached
Areté, put the double-chaliced cup
THEIR SHIP CARRIES ODYSSEUS _ 201

Into her hand, and spake these wingéd words: BOOK XIII.
“Through all thy life, O Queen, till old age come 58—92.

And Death the doom of mortals, fare thee well;

I go, rejoicing ; mayst thou have thy joy

Here in this mansion and in thy children dear,

Thy people, and the King Alcinous!”’
He spoke, and crossed the threshold ; but the King

Ordered the herald to conduct him safe

To the swift galley and the ocean-strand.

Three handmaids Queen Arete likewise sent ;

One with a tunic and a spotless cloak,

Another with the coffer, and the third

Bearing provision and rich ruddy wine.

Descending to the galley and the sea,
The noble escort quickly took and laid
These things, and all the victual and the drink,
Inside the hollow hold, but on the deck
Stretched for Odysseus at the vessel’s stern
A bedding of a rug and linen sheet
That sound might be his slumber; he himself
Followed, and went aboard, and laid him down,
In silence. On the benches, each in place,
The others taking seat drew out the rope
From the pierced mooring-stone, and, bending, threw
The billow sparkling off the bladed oar.
On him sweet slumber fell across his eyes,
Delightful, deep ; akin to Death it seem’d.
But onward—as four horses o’er a plain
Pricked to their gallop by the sounding lash
Lightly with lifted feet pursue their path—
So lifted rose the stern, and in its wake
Foamed on the roaring main the purple wave.
Onward unswerving and secure it ran;
No hawk, the swiftest of the fowls of air,
Could fly so swiftly; so it cut the sea,
Bearing the man for wisdom peer to Gods ;
And he, who in his heart had borne such griefs,
Warrings with men, dread ventures with the waves,
Oblivious of past woes, in tranquil sleep now lay.
BOOK XIII.
93—125.

202 IN DEEP SLEEP TO ITHACA

Brightest above the horizon rose the Star,
Light’s harbinger announcing early Dawn,
When the sea-voyaging bark approached the isle.

A certain harbour lies in Ithaca,
The ancient Sea-god Phorcyn’s favourite haunt;
Close-crouching o’er its mouth two rocks jut forth,
Excluding all fierce surge by tempest driven ;
So that, unanchor’d, well-bench’d barks inside
Ride scathless, when they once have crossed the bar ;
But at its head a wide-branched olive grows,
Near which a cavern opens, dim with mist,
Delightsome, and the shrine of Naiad Nymphs;
And cups and goblets of the living rock
Hang from its roof, wherein bees build their nests,
And loom-rods, of exceeding length, in stone
Likewise, whereon the Nymphs outstretch and weave
Sea-purpled raiment, wondrous to behold:
And springs are there perennial: two its mouths,
One looking north, which mortals may descend,
The other southward, more divine, which men
Know not; Immortals only use that way.

Knowing the roadstead well, they drave right in
The galley there, and up the strand it dashed
Half its whole length discovered, such the crew
That urged it onward. Disembarking, these
Then went ashore, but from the hollow ship
First raised Odysseus in the glistening rug
And linen as he lay, and set him down
Still lost in sleep profound, upon the sand;

Then lifted the possessions out, bestowed

By the Phzacian Chieftains ere he sailed
Homeward, as mighty-soul’d Athene willed.

These in a heap some distance off the road

They placed beside the olive’s roots, for fear

Lest some chance wayfarer should pass, and do
Some damage, ere Odysseus woke from sleep.
Then on their homeward voyage these sailed back.

But He who with his billows shakes all earth
POSEIDON WITH CONSENT OF ZEUS 203

Forgetting not the threats wherewith He erst BOOK XIII,
Assailed Odysseus, asked the will of Zeus: 126—154.
‘No more, O Father Zeus, can I be held
In honour amongst Gods, when mortal men,
Ev’n these Phzacians, pay me no regard,
Though of the generation of my blood.
Unto myself I said that Odyseus
Should ne’er regain his home before he endured
Infinite suffering; yet I still forbore
To reave him utterly of all return,
For that Thou hadst, assenting thereunto,
Confirmed it by thy Nod. But, lo, these men
Carrying him on a swift ship o’er the sea
Have set him down in Ithaca and given
Treasures of countless value—gold galore,
And brass, and woven raiment, things of price,
In number such as, had he sailed from Troy
With his whole portion of its spoil intact,
Untroubled, he had never seized the like!”
To whom the Ruler of the clouds replied :
“ Shaker of Earth, and powerful far and near!
What manner of speech is thine? The Gods in naught
Dishonour thee, nor could they, though they would,
Steep a great son of Kronos, born supreme,
Eldest and strongest, in dishonours foul.
And as for mortals — if a man perchance
Tempted by strength or temper overbold
Fails thee in worship, yet, as is thy wont,
Thereafter thou canst wreak thine own revenge.
Act, as thou wilt, and as thy heart desires.”
To whom in answer Poseidadon said:
‘‘Ev’n as thou sayest, O cloud-wrapt Lord, so I
Would straightway act, but ever I regard
And shun thy anger. Knowing now thy will,
Out on the mist-like sea I soon would crush
This galley as it comes from escort back,
That they may henceforth hold themselves, and cease
From thus conducting mortals; I would fain
With a great mountain cover up their town.”
And Zeus the Ruler of the clouds replied:
“Dear Brother, this appeareth best to me:
BOOK XIII.
155—182.

204 CHANGES THE SHIP INTO STONE

When all the people from their city view
The approaching ship, to turn it into stone,
Near port, and still an image of a ship,
That men may see and marvel: thus, in sooth,
With a great mountain cover up their town!”
Poseidon hearken’d to his word, and straight
Passed into Scheria, the Phzeacians’ home,
And waited there. Anon the voyaging bark
Lightly its course pursuing drew quite near:
This the dread Shaker of the Earth approached
And smiting with a hand precipitate
Turned it to rock, and rooted it below,
And so departed.
The Phezacian crowd,
Famed for their galleys and Jong-striking oars,
’Gan utter each to other wingéd words ;
Men, looking in their neighbours’ eyes, would say:
“Woe unto us! For who hath fettered down
This vessel, in mid-water, nigh to shore?
Already it was full within our view!”
They spoke, not knowing how the thing was wrought.
Their king Alcinotis addressed them first:
‘Prophetic oracles, traditions told
By my own father, come upon me—how
He once would say, my Friends, Poseidon wax’d
Indignant, that we gave to all mankind
Our unendanger’d escort, and would add
How some day He would crush in mist-like sea
A fair Phzeacian galley as it came
Returning from such convoy, and would raise
A mountain high to cover up our town.
Behold the old man’s warning now fulfilled!
But listen, and obey ye my advice.
Henceforth refrain from escort, when perchance
Men visit this our city; and let us now
Offer to King Poseidon twelve choice bulls,
That He may show us mercy, neither raise *

* Zeus has suggested to Poseidon, and Poseidon has accepted the
suggestion, that the new Rock closing part of the harbour, or its
shadow, might take the place of the mountain that would have other-
ATHENE CONCEALING ITHACA IN MIST 205

A mountain huge to cover up our town.” BOOK XIII.
He ended; all in awe, they brought the bulls. 183—210.

Thus the Phzacian Council and their lords
Made prayer to King Poseidon in their town
Standing around the altar. But, meanwhile,
Noble Odysseus in his native land
Awoke from sleep, yet knew it not, for long
Had been his absence, and the Child of Zeus
Pallas Athene showered a mist around
To render him unseen,* that She alone
Might tell all things in order, and his wife
And subjects might not know him ere he gained
Full retribution for the Suitors’ sin.
So to their lord all things around seemed strange,
The paths cut through the woodland, the broad port,
The precipices, and the flowering trees.
Upright he sprang and saw his native soil,
Yet groaned in lamentation, smote his thighs
With hands abandoned to his grief, and said:

“Into whose land, alas, have I arrived?
An impious savage race of men unjust,
Or one that welcomes strangers as their guests,
Of mild and godlike nature? Where to stow
These precious things? And whither should I stray ?
Liefer with the Phzeacians had I stopp’d
Where I then was! For there I might have sought
Some other brave-soul’d Chieftain who perchance
Would of his grace have sent me to my home.
But now I know not where to place this wealth,
Yet may not leave it here, lest I be robbed.
Ah, not all kindly-hearted nor upright
Were the Phzacian Council or their lords,

wise overwhelmed the town. But Alcinous could not be expected to
know this, and therefore prays that the latter half of the old oracle
might be averted. I see no real difficulty in this.

* &yvworov rebtere. In the face of &yvworov tedtw at 397 of this
book, it seems to me impossible to give an active sense to &yvwortor,
“unknowing,” as Dr. Hayman would do. The Scholiast explains
the word by agavq, and Dr. Merry also interprets it as equivalent to
“invisible ’’.
BOOK XIII,
211—243,.

206 ACCOSTS ODYSSEUS WHO TELLS

Who to another land have brought me, saying
That they would take me to the far-seen isle
Of Ithaca—a promise unfulfilled!
May Zeus, who hearkens suppliants, looking down
On all the world, and executing wrath
On whoso sinneth, give them their reward!
Let me then count these treasures o’er and see
If they have carried from me aught away.”
He spoke, and counted all the raiment fair,
The tripods, and the caldrons, and the gold,
And miss’d of nothing from the bounteous store ;
Yet still in lamentation for his home
Along the sounding billows’ echoing strand
Bent down with grief he walked. Athene soon,
Guised in the likeness of a shepherd-youth,
All delicately shapen as Kings’ sons are,
Approached him, and about her shoulders wore
In double fold a well-wrought plaid, her feet
Glistening in sandals, in her hand a spear.
Odysseus joyed beholding her, and moved
To meet her, and addressed these wingéd words:
“Since in this place I first encounter thee,
I give thee hail, dear youth; with no ill will
Requite me: save these things, and save me too:
As to a God [ pray, and clasp thy knees.
And truly answer this, that I may know;
What is this country ? What this nation? Who
The men that here inhabit? Is it one
Of the farshowing islands, or some shore
Of the rich mainland, sloping to the sea?’”’
Whom thus bright-eyed Athene answering said:
“ Either, O Stranger, thou art simple quite,
Or thou hast come from very distant parts,
To make such fond inquiries of this place.
Tis not so utterly without all name,
But known to many, both to those who dwell
Towards Dawn and sunrise, and to those behind
In the far mist-like regions of the West.
Rugged it is and therefore unadapt
For chariots, yet, though lacking breadth of space,
Not wholly mean or barren; corn it yields
A FICTITIOUS STORY OF HIMSELF — 207

In boundless measure ; wine is found therein ; BOOK XII.
For frequent shower and most abundant dew 244—277.
Hold moist the soil and make sweet pasturage
For goats and oxen ; and all manner of wood
Thrives, and the fountains run the whole year long.
For these good reasons, Stranger, ev’n to Troy
The name of Ithaca hath passed, and Troy,
They tell me, from Achaia lies remote.”

She ceased; the long-enduring Hero heard
Gladdening, rejoicing in his native land
Named to him by Athene Child of Zeus ;
Whom answering he addressed with wingéd words
(Yet spake not truth but bridled well his tongue,
As ever, working still a subtle mind) :

“Far over sea, in spacious Crete, I oft
Heard tell of Ithaca, and now, it seems,
Have come myself, and brought this wealth, yet left
As much more to my children when I fled
To enforcéd exile, having slain the son
Of famed Idomeneus, Orsilochus,
Our fleetest runner, who in speed of foot
Would conquer the most cunning men of Crete.
For he assayed to rob me of the spoil
I won in Ilion, at my own sore cost,
By wars with men, by ventures with the waves,
And owing him no service nor his sire,
Since I was captain there of other troops.
Therefore with one companion | lay in wait
Against him near the roadside as he came
Down from the fields, and slew him with my spear.
A night, exceeding dark, possessed the sky;
None saw us, and my deed escaped all eyes.
But after slaying him with the sharp-tipt spear
I quickly found a galley and besought
Some rich Pheenician merchants; these I won
By a large price to take me on the ship
And set me down at Pylos, or the coast
Of sacred Elis, where the Epeians rule.
But force of tempest, much against their will
(They meant no guile against me), blew them off,
And, beaten from our course, we reached this shore
BOOK XIII.
278—309.

208 ATHENE PRAISING HIS CUNNING

Last night, and gladly rowed us into port.
All famished as we were, we gave no time
To food, but disembarking threw us down,
Exhausted, by our galley, Sudden sleep
O’ercame me; but the others waking soon
Took from the bark and placed upon the sands
These precious things beside me where I lay.
And they to wealthy Sidon now are gone ;
But I am left with anguish at my heart.”
He spoke; the bright-eyed Goddess smiled, well-
pleased,
Caressed him with her hand, and made herself
Like some majestic woman, tall and fair,
Skill’d in the work of rich embroidery,
Addressed him then with wingéd words, and said:
“Even if a God came down to encounter thee,
He were indeed a master of deceit
And crafty stealth, who in all manner of guile
Outstripp’d thee—O Arch-trickster, of intrigues
Insatiate, many-sided! Though thou’rt safe
In thine own land, no likelihood appears
Of thy refraining from that lying speech
Loved from thy childhood upward! But enough
Of this vain converse, since in subtleties
We both are matched alike. Of all mankind
Thou art the first for counsel and for speech,
And I of all the Deities am famed
For craft and wisdom. Yet not all thy skill
Avails to know Athene Child of Zeus
Now present; constant near thee though I stand
Guarding thee through thy troubles, and of late
Made the Phzeacians gracious to thy wish.
And now I come to help thee in some web
Of sage device, and to conceal this wealth
Which the Phzacians gave thee ere thou sail’d,
Conforming to my counsel and my will.
Likewise I tell thee all the troubles, Fate
Dooms thee to suffer in thy well-built house.
These thou must bear, of sore necessity ;
Neither to man nor woman mayst thou say,
That from thy wanderings thou art come at last,
INFORMS HIM OF HIS HOUSEHOLD 209

But must endure much sorrow, and undergo BOOK XIII.
In patient silence outrages from men.”’ 310 —342,

And many-wiled Odysseus gave reply:
“To recognise thee, Goddess, were hard task
To any mortal, howsoever sage,
For thou to every likeness shapest thyself.
Right well I know thou show’dst of kindly will
Towards me, while the war endured with Troy;
But from the hour when, after Priam’s town
Had fallen despoil’d, we mounted on our barks
And Heaven had scattered us to every wind,
Thereafter, Child of Zeus, I ne’er beheld
Nor marked thee on my galley to forefend
One trouble off me, though in wanderings lost
I felt my very heart-strings wrung with pain,
Till the Gods loosed me from that evil plight,
And till in the Phzeacians’ rich domain
Coming once more thou ledst me to their town.
But at thy knees, and for my father’s sake,
I implore thee (since I deem me not arrived
In farseen Ithaca but tarrying still
Toss’d on some other shore, and thou but speakst
In mockery, or to flatter my desire),
Speak truly, have I reached my native land?”

Whom thus the bright-eyed Goddess answering said:
“ Such wary thought springs ever in thy breast!
Wherefore [ cannot leave thee in distress,
So ready-witted, glib of words, and wise.
Another after wanderings coming home
Had over-eagerly desired to see
His wife and children in his ancient house.
But thou delayest still to inquire or learn,
Ere thou canst try thy wife’s fidelity,
Though She amidst her household sits forlorn
As thou didst leave her, and her days and nights
Sadly in lamentation pass away.
I ne’er lost faith myself, and inly knew,
That after loss of all thy comrades thou
Wouldst gain thy home. But I was loth to face
In open fight Poseidon; for he boasts
To be my father’s brother, and he nursed

14
BOOK XIII.
343—374.

210 AND PROMISES HER AID

Deep wrath against thee and revenge, because
Thou quench’d the sight of his beloved son.
But, if thou wouldst believe me, look—behold
Thy Ithaca; I show it thee; the port,
The ancient sea-god Phorcyn’s favourite haunt ;
This is the broad-branch’d olive at its head ;
And near it this the cavern, mist-dim, cool,
Delightsome, and the shrine of Naiad Nymphs;
Yea, this the deep-roof'd cavern, where thou oft
Gavst to the Nymphs thy perfect hecatombs ;
And here the wood-ciothed hill of Neritus!”’
The Goddess, as she spoke, dispersed the mist,
And all the ground lay clear. But overjoyed
The noble long-enduring Hero kissed
The fruitful soil, exulting in his home;
And then with lifted hands implored the Nymphs:
' « Daughters of Zeus, O Naiads! To myself
I said that I should never see you more;
And now with gentle vows | bid you hail!
Our offerings we will bring you as of old,
Let but the Goddess of all spoil in war,
Pallas Athene, of her gracious will
Permit me that I live myself, and grant
Increase of years to my belovéd son.”
Athene then addressed him thus, and said:
“ Be of good cheer nor troubled overmuch.
But let us place these treasures safe for thee
Hidden in a corner of this holy cave ;
And then consult how best to achieve our ends.”’
Into the mist-dim cavern as she spoke
Enter’d the Goddess, groping for some place
Of hiding ; whilst Odysseus nearer brought
The woven raiment, the undecaying brass,
The gold, and all the rich Phzeacian gifts.
And these Athene Child of Zeus supreme
Laid safe, and sealed the entrance with a stone.

Then, seated on the sacred olive’s roots,
They held consult together how to bring
Destruction on the misproud Suitors’ heads;
And first bright-eyed Athene thus began:
WARNING HIM OF HIS PERIL SHE 211

‘‘Laertes’ son Odysseus, Zeus-born Chief, BOOK XIII.
Sagest of men! Consider how to smite 375—404.
These shameless Wooers, who for three years past
Have in thy palace lorded it, and court
Thy noble wife, and proffer each his gifts.

But she, for thy return repining still,
Gives all some hope, and promises to each
With messages of peace; but other far
The hidden intent she nurses in her soul.”

To whom deep-wiled Odysseus answer'd thus:
‘Wondrous! For of a surety I had died
The death of Agamemnon Atreus’ Son
In mine own halls ill-fated, hadst not Thou
Detailed me in due order these my risks.

But weave some wile, O Goddess, in thy mind

Whereby I may requite them; and vouchsafe

Thy presence; fill my heart with generous fire,

Breathe a high spirit upon me as of yore

When of her glistening diadem of towers

We fought discrowning Troy. For, glorious Power,

If in that fiery temper thou wouldst stand

Beside me—though three hundred men assailed,

Three hundred I should vanquish—all through thee,

Dread Goddess—only through thy grace and help!”
To whom bright-eyed Athene made reply:

“Yea, be assured I shal! be with thee there,

Nor then forget thee, when the moment comes

For that our task together; yea, I deem,

Some of the Suitcrs’ troop, who now consume

Thy substance, then with blood and brain spilt out

Shall splash the unbounded floor of fruitful Earth.

But now irrecognisable to man

I needs must make thee, and will shrivel up

The dainty skin about thy supple limbs,

Uproot the auburn locks from off thy head,

And clothe thee in such garb, as whoso sees

Will loathe it; and thine eyes so bright before

I cover blear’d and dimm’d, that in the sight

Of all the wooers and thy wife and child,

Some vile unseemly beggar thou wilt show.

Then, on thy part, first seek the swineherd’s hut
BOOK XIII.
405—440.

212 TRANSFORMS HIM INTO AN OLD MAN

Who keeps thy herd and bears thee fond regard,

Loving thy son and chaste Penelope.

Him watching thou wilt find beside the swine

Which now roam grazing near the Raven-rock

At Arethusa’s fount, and eat their fill

Of acorn sweet, and from the fountain drink

Black water—food that makes abundant lard.

Stay there, and make inquiries at thine ease ;

Whilst I to beauteous-woman’d Sparta go

To summon back Telemachus thy son ;

For he hath gone to Menelaus’ house

In broad-spaced Lacedzemon, there to seek

Some rumour, if perchance thou beest alive.”
Whom many-wiled Odysseus answering, ask’d:

‘But wherefore didst not Thou inform him this,

Who knowést all things? Was it that also he

Should bear his sorrows on the barren deep,

Roaming, whilst others eat his substance up ?”’
And Pallas bright-eyed Goddess made reply:

“Let not him trouble overmuch thy soul.

Mine own self giving escort sent him forth

That thence returning he might win renown.

Now in the house of Atreus’ son he rests

In comfort, bounteous cheer around him spread.

And though ’tis true, desirous of his death,

A strong crew in a black-pitched galley lies

On his road home in ambush, this, I trow,

Will scarce befall him, ere the Earth holds down

Some few of those proud Suitors in their graves!”
Speaking, Athene touch’d him with her wand,

Withering the skin about his supple limbs,

Uprooting off his head the auburn hair,

Clothing his body in an old man’s husk,

And blearing up the eyes so bright before ;

Then round him threw a tunic, and a wrap,

Tatter'd and filthy both, with smoke begrimed ;

And added a swift-footed fawn’s old hide,

Worn hairless, and a staff, and wallet foul,

All cracks and holes, suspended on a strap.

This counsel closed, they parted—She away
Hieing to Lacedzemon for his son.
HE GAINS THE SWINEHERD’S HUT 213

ODYSSEY XIV.

But from the harbour, by a rugged path, BOOK XIV.
Through woodland, up and down the rocks, he went 1—24.
Mounting to where Athene had declared
The worthy swineherd’s hut, who now of all
The henchmen he had purchased for the house
Watch’d o’er his master’s substance with most heed.

Him he found sitting in the foremost part,
Where had been reared a court-yard, large and fair,
High-built on an open plateau cleared all round ;
This by the swineherd’s hands had been engirt
(After his lord’s departure and unhelped
By old Laertes or the patient Queen)

For cover to his swine with stones dragged up
And coped with prickly pear: and, high and close,
To right and left, the outer side’s full length,
Stakes he had planted round of cloven oak.
Thus twelve huge sties within the court he made
For the sows’ litters in a near array ;

Fifty the wallowing swine fenced up in each,
Sows all, and late in farrow; but the boars
Beyond it lay, and show’d in number fewer,
Much minish’d for the high-born Suitors’ food ;
Since by constraint the swineherd every day
Despatch’d for these the finest of the herd.
Three hundred and fifty was their number now.
Near them, and savage as wild-beasts, four dogs
Lay nightly, by the swineherd bred and fed.

Fitting a leathern buskin to his feet
The swineherd-overseer was busy there
Cutting a skin ; three others of his men
BOOK XIV.
25—56.

214 EUMAUS WELCOMES HIM

Scatter’d in every quarter to and fro

Tended the grazing swine; the fourth had gone
Into the city, sent by sore constraint

To the over-weening Suitors with a boar,

To glut them on the dainty flesh thereof:

When on a sudden the four growling dogs
Perceived Odysseus, and with yelping tongue
Rush’d on him. He forthwith sate quiet down,
Knowing their nature, on the ground, and let

His staff fall down from his hand; and yet perchance
At his own farmyard might have suffer’d harm

Had not the swineherd following hastily

Dropping his aw! and rushing through the porch
Threatened and driven with a thick volley of stones
The dogs from off him to all sides away ;

And then addressed his master thus, and said:
“Old man, it lacked but little for the hounds
To have torn thee piecemeal by this sudden attack
And brought on me reproach. And yet the Gods

Have given me enough of sorrow and distress

Already, since in mourning for my lord

I sit aggrieved, and breed his splendid swine

For others’ feasting high ; though he, belike

(If still alive at all he sees the sun),

Hungry for food a vagrant beggar roams

The farm-steads and the towns of alien men.

But follow now, and enter this my hut;

And when, old man, thy heart is well content

With bread and wine, inform me whence thou art

And all thy sorrow’s tale recount to me.”
Speaking, the honest swineherd led him in

And placed him on a seat, and underneath

Threw a thick shredding of fibre and thereupon

A shaggy wild-goat’s hide, his custom’d quilt,

Hairy and large. Odysseus much rejoiced

To be thus welcomed, and addressed soft words;
“May Zeus and all the immortal Gods bestow

Whatever thou mayst most desire on thee

For this most cordial welcome, my kind Host!”
Eumeus, thou, good swineherd, gavest reply :

“ Stranger, it were against my law to scorn
AND LAMENTS HIS MASTER

A guest though in more wretched plight than thine.
From Zeus proceed all strangers and the poor ;
Alms are a little yet a welcome thing.
And such the manner of all servitors
In a great house—too timorous, if young men
Be lords and masters. But of my dear lord
Gods must have verily hindered the return!
Tender, indulgent, he to me, and gave
All that a kindly master gives—a house,
With glebe allotted, and a pleasing wife—
To a retainer, who with industry
Labours, and on whose labour God vouchsafes
Rich increase, such as that accruing ever
To this fair service over which I sit.
Yea, large had been the bounty of my lord
Rewarding me, if he were aging here.
He must have perish’d—would that ruin had fallen
On the whole stock of Helen, root and branch,
So many the men, whose limbs her sin hath loosed !
And he amongst them went, to fight with Troy,
And win from well-horsed Ilion the full fine
Forfeit to Agamemnon Atreus’ son.”

Ev'n while he spoke he girt his tunic up
Belted, and hastened to the sties where droves
Of swine were shut, and from a litter took

215

Two, which he brought and killed, and, singeing both,

Sliced them, and pierced each morsel through with spits ;

Then put the meat before Odysseus, all
Roasted, and steaming on the spits, whereon
White grain he sprinkled, and mingled in a cup
Sweet honied wine; last, taking seat himself
In front, he pressed him to his meal, and said:

“ Eat, stranger, of this hoggan, servants’ food :
The fatten’d boars the Suitors now consume,
Knowing no shame nor reverence in their hearts,
Howbeit, the Gods approve not such misdeed,
But honour justice and men’s righteous acts.
Ev’n pitiless rovers, such as roam strange shores
And seize what prey soever Zeus permits,

When they have freighted full their ships, depart
Returning homeward, and an awful dread

BOOK XIV.
57—88.
BOOK XIV.
89—120,

216 ABOUT WHOM ODYSSEUS INQUIRES

Falls on them of visitation from high Heaven:
"Tis certain therefore that these Chieftains know
Of something, or have caught some voice, which told
My master’s utter ruin. Hence they dare
Fearless their unjust wooings, nor consent
To go their several ways, but undisturbed
Waste treasure, without stint, by violence sheer.
The days and nights proceed from mighty Zeus
In their due order; yet these men, I trow,
Have offered never a single sacrifice,
Though daily from our jars they draw the wine.
Vast was the substance that my lord possessed ;
Neither on mainland dim, nor on this isle,
Had twenty Chiefs together owned the like.
Listen, I tell thee all the count thereof.
Adverse upon the mainland twelve his herds
Of oxen, and as many flocks of sheep,
Of swine as many, and of vagrant goats,
By hirelings or by faithful neatherds fed.
And here, upon this island’s border, graze
Eleven flocks of goats, by good true men
Tended ; but to the Suitors every day
Each takes a male, the finest of his flock.
And I, who o’er the swine keep watch and ward,
Must in like manner pick and send a boar.”

He spoke; the other gladly ate the meats,
Thirstily drank the wine, yet brooding sate,
Maturing in his mind their evil deaths.

When he had eaten and satisfied his soul,
The swineherd filled anew and gave the cup
Whence he was drinking, to Odysseus’ hands,
Who took it with much joy, and spoke, and said:
“ But who is he, my Friend, who with his wealth
Bought thee, this Chief so wealthy and so strong,
And who, thou sayest, has perished in the cause
Of Agamemnon’s vengeance? Tell me more;
Haply I may have known so great a man.
Though whether J have beheld him and can give
Some tidings, rests upon the will of Zeus,
Yet I have wandered much, and much haye seen,”
AND DECLARES HIM NEAR 217

To whom the swineherd-overseer replied: BOOK XIV.
“Old man, no tidings now concerning him 121—155.
Win credit with his wife or dear-loved son ;
Since vagrants for their need of sustenance
Tell fables false and vain, nor speak the truth.
Whoever comes to Ithaca seeks out
My mistress, and his idle story tells ;
Whereat she makes him welcome and inquires
Of one thing after other, till the tears
Run down her cheeks for sorrow—as is the way
With women, when their husbands die abroad.
Thyself, old man, wouldst quickly find a tale,
Were change of raiment the reward thereof.
Nay—dogs and crows are picking bare his bones
Where life hath left him somewhere on the earth;
Or fish have eaten him in the sea’s black depths,
And his bleached bones are swathed in sands far sunk.
He thus and there hath perished, but bequeathed
Troubles to all who loved him, most to me.
For never shall I meet, where’er I go,
So kind a master: not though I returned
Home to my father’s and my mother’s house
Where I was born and they did nurture me ;
Not ev'n for them, however much I crave
Once more to see them in my native land,
Is such my sorrow—as this deep desire
For the long-lost Odysseus thrills my heart!
Yea, Stranger, I have uttered forth his name
Despite his absence, since he loved me much
And tenderly cared for me: though far away,
I still invoke him as my truest friend.”

The much-enduring Hero made reply:
“Since, Friend, thou art so altogether set
In thine own mind against his coming back
Being quite mistrustful still—I hereby make
No simple declaration, but an oath,
That Odyseus is on his way to home.
And for these tidings, I will take my fee
(Such as thou nam’st, a change of raiment fair)
When he hath gain’d his house; before that hour
I accept nothing, whatsoe’er my need.
BOOK XIV.
156—189.

218 EUM/EUS DISBELIEVING, THE HERO

The man who for his penury speaks false—

I hate him as I hate the gates of Hell!

First, therefore, of the Gods be witness, Zeus,

And ye, O Hearth and hospitable board

Of great Odysseus, whither I would wend,

As I now speak, these things shall come to pass.

Within this year Odysseus will arrive,

Betwixt the passing and the coming moon,

Will gain his home, and take revenge on those

Who do dishonour to his wife and son.”
Eumezus, thou, good swineherd, gavest reply:

“That fee, old man, thou never wilt receive,

For never will Odysseus come to home.

Drink at thine ease, and talk of other things,

Of this no more; my heart is well-nigh broke,

When I am thus reminded of my lord.

And let pass too this matter of an oath.

May he but come! None were more pleased than I,

Than old Laertes and Penelope,

Or than his godlike son Telemachus.

But now exceedingly for that same son

Odysseus’ child I sorrow, whom the Gods

Cherish’d like some fair sapling, and I said

In stature and noble bearing amongst men

He to his father dear would wax no whit

Inferior; but some God, or man belike,

Hath quite untrimm’d his mind, and he hath gone

After some rumour of his father, far

As sacred Pylos. The haught Suitors lie

In ambush on the path whereby he sails

Returning, that the great Arceisian stock

May die for ever out of Ithaca.

Him also to his fate we needs must leave,

Whether to be thus captured, or if Zeus

Outstretch an arm to save him. But enough ;

Now tell me of thine own distress, old man,

And truly inform me this that I may know:

Who and whence art thou? Where thy country? Who

Thy parents? On what ship hast thou arrived ?

Who may thy sailors boast themselves to be ?

How fared they hither? For I trow right well,
GIVES ANOTHER FICTITIOUS 219

Thou camest not into Ithaca on foot.” BOOK XIV.
To whom Odysseus answer’d of his guile: 190—222,

“ Freely and frankly I will tell my tale.

Though * food and wine stood ready for us two

Here in thy hut, that we might feast long-while,

And though thou gavest thy work to other hands,

Not then, within the compass of a year,

Could I recount at full the heartfelt woes,

The toils, which angry Gods have laid on me.

‘“Of spacious Crete by birth I boast myself,
A wealthy father’s son, but in his house
Was many another son in wedlock born,
His wife’s—my mother being a purchased slave,
His concubine. While Castor, Hylax’ child,
Our Father, honoured like some God through Crete
For substance and the number of his sons,
Still lived, he held us all in like regard;
But death’s doom dragged him down to Hades’ realm.
Then of their over-weening strength his sons
Divided all his substance, casting lots,
But left me little and a mean abode.
Howbeit, of mine own excellence I won
From out the wealthy of the land a wife;
No craven soul, no laggard shunning war,
Though all things long have left me, showed I then.
This husk must vouch the kernel, what it was,
Since abject penury now weighs me down.
For Ares and Athene then vouchsafed
Fierce spirit within me and a prowess strong
To crush mine enemies, when for their defeat
I chose the Chieftains to an ambuscade
Against them; never then my tense-strung soul
Saw death before my eyes but from the lair
First I would spring and slaughter, spear in hand
All who outmatched me not in speed of foot.
Though first in fight, yet labour I misliked
And husbandry, the kindly foster-nurse

* etn. I follow the best commentators in considering this wish to
be the equivalent of a conditional clause,
BOOK XIV.
223—255.

220 ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE IN CRETE

Of children at the hearth. War, war alone,
Ships at full stretch, sharp arrows, javelin-play,
Were my delight; things deadly, such as bring
A shudder on many—these did Zeus make dear
Inly to me; so one man in one course,

Another in another, finds his joy.

“ Before Achaia’s host for Ilion sailed,
Nine times I led a company of men
On swift-going galleys into foreign parts,
And all good things befell me. For I first
From out our booty took what pleased me most,
And, after, had my portion. So my house
Wax’d mightily, and I became a man
Dreaded and in much reverence held through Crete.
But, when Zeus marked us out that gloomy path
Which loosed the limbs of many men in death,
Me with renown’d Idomeneus they bade
Be leaders of their fleet to Ilion’s shore.
No refuge in denial, for the voice
Of all the country pressed us to the task.
So nine years through we battled on with Troy ;
The tenth, we plundered Priam’s city, and turned
Homeward; but God then scattered all the fleet.
To me, to wretched me, far-seeing Zeus
Devised distinct mine evil. For I gained
My home and there abode a single month
Delighting in my children and my wife
And my great substance. Then, my daring heart
Prompting me forth to Egypt with a fleet
And my old comrades, I equipped nine ships,
And voluntary crews flocked in to join.

“Six days my well-belov’d companions held
High feast, with oxen furnished at my cost
For the Gods’ altars and for their regale.

But on the seventh embarking spacious Crete
We left and started with a northern wind
Harmless and fresh behind us, gliding on

As if down-stream. Not one of all my ships
Suffered, but, scathless and of sickness free,
AND STAY IN EGYPT 221

Restful we sate while pilots and the wind BOOK XIV.
Steered them right onward. In five days we gained 256-—289.
The smooth-flowing river of Egypt ; in its mouth
I stayed the well-trimm’d vessels, and I bade

My much-loved crews remain on board, to guard
The galleys, whilst I pushed forth scouts, to spy
The cattle near. But, tempted by their pride,
Obedient to a temper overbold,

They dared to plunder the rich-cultured fields

Of Egypt, and to carry off the wives

And infant children, slaying all the men;

So that the cry went up and reached the town.
Hearing that outcry with the rise of Dawn

The people came, and all the plain was choked
With horses and footmen and the gleam of arms:
And Father Zeus in all my company cast

An evil spirit of panic, so that none

Durst stand against the Egyptians hand to hand,
But ill encompassed us, and many they slew
With their sharp swords, and carried others off
To set to labour by constraint in gangs.

To save me mighty Zeus inspired a thought

(Yet liefer had I drawn on me my fate

And died in Egypt—to worse woes reserved) ;
Buckler off shoulder, helm off head, I took,

And, letting drop my javelin, moved in front

Of their King’s chariot, where I clasped and kissed
His knees, and he had pity, and giving me
Protection, placed me captive, still in tears,

High on the settle, driving to his house.
Exceeding wroth were they, and many a man
Drove at me with his ashen spear, but he
Guarded all onset off me, fearing Zeus,

Who hears the suppliant’s prayer, and most in Heaven
Waxes indignant for unrighteous deed.

Seven years I there remaining gathered wealth
Amongst the Egyptians; generously they gave.
But, when the eighth year in its course arrived,
Came a Pheenician, crafty in his guile,

A trickster, and a worker amongst men

Already of much evil, who, by fraud
BOOK XIv,
290—322,

222 WHENCE AFTER SHIPWRECK

Persuading me amiss, thence carried me

To the Pheenician borders where his house
And substance lay. Again, with him I bode
A whole year’s space, till, when the months and days
Were perfected, a full year rolling round,
And seasons in due order,—he put forth

And took me to a bark for Libya bound

On a false plea, as partner in his freight,
Meaning at heart to sell me for a slave

In Libya, and to gain an untold price.

I, though suspecting somewhat, yet perforce
Followed aboard his galley ; and it ran
Before a breeze of Boreas, harmless, fair,

Its midway passage south of Crete; but Zeus
Already brooded ruin —soon to fall!

“Sea and sky only, nothing more of land,
Appeared before us, when he left the isle.
Then Kronos’ Son above the galley drew
A gloomy cloud that darkened all the sea,
And, thickly thundering, with a sulphurous bolt
He struck the ship, and overboard the crew
Were tumbled, and like sea-gulls round the bark
Went tossed upon the billows: of return
God so bereft them. Zeus within my reach
For me alone, though sorrows compassed me,
Put the dark galley’s monstrous-seeming mast,
That I might still escape the death so nigh.
Round it I rode, a waif to furious winds.
For full nine days I thus was hurried along,
And on the tenth black night was cast ashore
By a huge rolling billow on the land
Of the Thesprotians. Pheidon there, the King,
Showed me a bounteous welcome without fee ;
Whose dear son found me, by fatigue and chill
Quite vanquished, and upraising by the hand
Guided me to his father’s house, and gave
A change of raiment, a tunic and a cloak.

“There of Odysseus I heard news, the King
Saying he had given him hospitalities
ESCAPING SLAVERY HE HEARD 223

And a warm welcome on his way to home, BOOK XIV.
And showing all Odysseus had acquired, 323—354.
Brass, gold, and hammer’d iron, in their land.
For maintenance of any house save his

To the tenth generation had sufficed

Those treasures. But (he added) he had gone
Thence to Dodona, of the voice of Zeus
Under the high-branch’d oak-tree of the God
Seeking some counsel, how to win his way
After such absence in his native land—

In secret guise, or by an open claim.

Then, with libation and with oath, the King
Sware strongly, that a ship already launched
Stood, with a crew equipped, to carry safe
Odysseus till he gained his own dear land.

But me he sent away ere this befell:

Since a Thesprotian ship at anchor lay

Bound for Dulichium’s corn-producing coast,
And on the merchants he enjoined the charge
To escort me unto King Acastus’ house

And treat me kindly—Alas! a counsel-dark
Enter’d their hearts against me, and I sank
To depths of misery deeper yet thereby!

“ For, when the ship had made some little way,
Concerting then a life of slavery
To fall on me, they stripped my raiment off
And gave me in its stead the filthy wrap
And tunic which thou seest before thine eyes.
At evening, when we drew quite nigh the fields
Of Ithaca, they bound me in strait bonds
With a well-twisted cord aboard the bark,
Hasting themselves to take their meal ashore.
Gods, Gods alone, with ease untwined the bonds ;
And, muffling in the wrap my head, I slid
Down the smooth’d steering-paddle, till my breast
Fronted the sea, and strongly striking out
With either arm, I gat me clean away
Swimming beyond their sight ; then, clambering up,
Where in the flowering wood a thicket showed,
I crouched me down, and they with outcry loud
BOOK XIv.
355—387,

224 NEWS OF ODYSSEUS

Went wandering, till they deemed all further search

Idle, and so returned aboard their bark.

Gods, Gods alone, with ease concealed me thus,

And led and brought me to a good man’s hut,

Since it was fated that I should not die.”
Eumeeus, the good swineherd, answer’d thus :

“Wretched indeed! Never more luckless wight

Entered another’s house! My heart was moved

Within me for thy wanderings and thy woes.

But one thing out of place, methinks, and false—

Of that thou wilt not win my faith at all,

Thy mention of Odysseus. What the need

To thee of idle falsehood in this plight ?

Concerning his return I hold my own

Conviction weli-nigh certain: he became

To all the Gods abhorrent; wherefore they

Slew him not, whilst he waged the war with Troy,

Where he had perished in the arms of friends,

Where all the Achaians would have reared his tomb,

And where he had bequeathed a noble name

To his dear son and for all time to come;

But Harpies now have snatched him out of sight.

Retired amongst the swine I live, nor go,

Save at the call of sage Penelope

When tidings haply reach her, to the town,

But leave inquiries vain to others there,

Some grieving for their lord, but at their ease

Many, devouring without fear his wealth.

For I no longer care to fret for news,

Since an 4&tolian, kindly entreated here,

When after bloodshed wandering over earth

He sought my house, deceived me with a tale,

How he had seen Odysseus in wide Crete

And in the palace of Idomeneus

Mending his vessel which a storm had wrecked ;

And how in summer or autumn he would come

With treasure large and godlike comrades safe.

Howbeit the Gods have brought thee to my door,

Cease therefore, man of many troubles, cease

To seek my favour or to soothe my mind

With fables; not for these I bow me down
THIS EUM4US AGAIN DISBELIEVES 225

Nor give thee kindly welcome, but because BOOK XIy.
I reverence Zeus supreme, and pity thee.” 388—420.
To whom deep-wiled Odysseus gave reply:
“ Mistrustful overmuch thy doubting heart,
Neither to oath amenable nor speech.
But let there be a covenant betwixt us,
And the Gods on Olympus be to both
Witness thereto! If in this very house
Thy lord appears, on me shalt thou bestow
A change of raiment, and convey me on
Safe to Dulichium, where I fain would be;
But, if he cometh not as I have said,
Set your handmaidens upon me, and throw me down
Some precipice, that wanderers-may henceforth
Take warning, and abstain from flattering tales.”
To whom the honest swineherd answering said:
‘A good repute and glory amongst men
Both now and in all future times were mine,
If, after leading thee inside my hut,
And after. giving thee hospitalities,
I kill’d or thus bereft thee of thy life!
With a good grace I then could ask of Zeus
His favour, who presides 'twixt host and guest.
But this the hour of supper; and I fain
Would see my comrades hasting their return,
To get a dainty meal prepared within.”
Thus each with other mutual talk they held.

Anon the swineherds with their droves approached,
And each to wonted litters turned his own ;
Loud rose the grunts and groanings at the sties.
Then to his followers called the overseer:

“Hither for slaughter bring the finest boar,
In honour of our guest who comes from far,
And likewise for our own delight well earned ;
Since with our tendance day by day we breed
These white-tusk’d herds, though others now eat up
Our labours, dreading no avenging arm”.

He spoke, and with remorseless axe split down
Fagots, while they brought in a five-year-old,
Exceeding fat, and haled it to the hearth ;

15
BOOK XIV.
421—452.

226 THE RETAINERS JOIN THEM

Where, not unmindful of Immortal Powers,

The swineherd of his piety shore off

And throwing on the fire the first-fruit hairs

Of the white-toothéd boar, implored the Gods

For the return of Odyseus to home ;

Then, rising up a-tiptoe, he clove down

And stunned it senseless with an oaken pale

That he had left unsplit. The others killed

And singed it, and divided it piecemeal.

Then from each member slicing votive parts

He folded these, all raw, in layers of fat

And burned them on the fire with sprinkled grain.

But all the rest they cut, and spitted through,

And after heedful roasting, off the spits

Drawing the viands, threw them in a heap

On platters. Then the swineherd rose again,

As being a just and even-minded man,

To apportion out the meats in equal shares.

Seven were the messes that he made thereof;

One for the Nymphs and Hermes Maia’s Child

Invoking them with prayer he set apart ;

The others he divided, one to each;

But to Odysseus by the long-cut chine

Did honour ; and the master’s heart beat high,

As he addressed his swineherd thus, and said:
“May Father Zeus, Eumzeus, of his grace

Befriend thee, even as thou hast favour’d me,

For all my lowly plight, with this good cheer!”
And thou, the worthy swineherd, madest reply:

“Eat rather, my brave guest, and in such fare,

As we can lay before thee, find thy joy.

God giveth, God withholdeth, as He wills,

At His own pleasure ; all are in His hands.”
Speaking he offered to the eternal Gods

Libation of bright wine, then put the cup

Into Odysseus’ all-victorious hands ;

But took a seat himself beside his share.

Mesaulius gave them bread, Mesaulius whom,

After his lord’s departure and unhelped

By old Laertes or Penelope,

By private barter from the Taphians bought,
ODYSSEUS NARRATES AN ADVENTURE 227

He kept his own retainer. All then turned BOOK XIV.
Unto the dainty fare before them spread, 453—484.
Till, when desire had passed of drink and food,

Mesaulius raised the bread away, and all

Bethought them of departure, well-content.

It was the month’s dark period, and the gloom
Of an ill night had fallen across the sky,
Whence Zeus poured rain incessant; and a blast
Of Zephyr wet and furious to his wont
Blew fiercely: therefore Odyseus—(to make
More trial of the swineherd, if perchance,
Out of the strong affection he had shown,
He would pull off his mantle for his guest,
Or send some comrade for another)—said:
“Hear me, Eumeeus, hear me, all my Friends,
Albeit I utter what may seem a brag!
Perhaps ’tis wine impels me—crazy wine,
Which moves even sages into bawdy song, ~
Or to complacent chucklings, or to dance,
Or to tell something, better left untold.
Still, after giving tongue, I run my course.
Would I were youthful and of force as firm
As when we planned an ambush under Troy,
Led by Odysseus and by Atreus’ son
Brave Menelaus ; and myself with these
Was the third Captain, chosen by their command.
When we had neared the steep wall and the town,
Hidden in the reeds along the marsh we lay
Crouching beneath our arms. But on us came
An evil night, for Boreas blew, and fell
Frosty, and from the sky thick snow or sleet
So chilly, that the ice formed round our shields.
The others o’er their tunics had their cloaks
And lay with cover’d shoulders at their ease.
But, starting, in my tent I left my cloak
Thoughtlessly, or saying to myself, no cold
At all would touch me; so that I had come
With nought save buckler and my leathern skirt.
Now at the night’s third watch, when stars had set,
Nudging Odysseus with my elbow (since
BOOK XIV.
485—519.,

228 BY WHICH HE OBTAINS COVERING

He happened to be couched my neighbour) |
Addressed him, and he caught my whispered words:
‘Lord of resource, Laertes’ son, Zeus-born !
Count me as of this living world no more.
I have no mantle, and I freeze with cold.
To follow, only in a jerkin clad,
Was madness, but some God befooled my mind.
Now scarce to be escaped the danger seems.’
Ev’n while I spoke, he held within his mind
A plan to save me; such he always showed
In council and in battle: and he spoke
In a thin whisper answering thus, and said:
‘ Silence ; let no Achaian hear of this’.
Then raised his head upon his arm, and said:
‘Hear me, my Friends, a dream divine hath fallen
Upon me in my slumber. From our ships
We have advanced too far; let some one go
To Agamemnon, shepherd of the host,
If haply he will re-enforce us thence.’
He ended; and thereat arose forthwith
Thoas, Andrzemon’s son, and cast aside
His scarlet mantle, so to run his way
Back to the ships. But I to my content
Lay in his cloak, till gold-throned morning came.
Yea, would I now were youthful, and of strength
Within me firm, as in those olden days!”
Eumeus, thou, the swineherd, gavest reply:
“ Goodly this fable thou hast told, old man ;
Not out of place the story, nor in vain,
Thou shalt not lack for garments, nor what else
Tis seemly that poor suppliants should receive,
For this night only ; with to-morrow’s dawn
Thou needs must flaunt thy wretched rags again.
No changes large of raiment or of cloaks
Are here to wear, but one for each man’s use.
But if Odysseus’ well-loved son returns
He will vouchsafe a tunic and a cloak
And send thee whither thou art fain to go.”
So to his height he, speaking, sprang, and placed
A bedstead near the fire, and threw therein
Fleeces of sheep and goat-skins ; then at ease
EUMUS MOUNTS GUARD 229

Odysseus laid him down; o’er whom anon BOOK XIV.
The other cast the mantle, broad, close-woven, 520—533.
Which ever ready to his hands was set

For use against the rising of a storm.

So there Odysseus lay, and near him slept
The young retainers. But their overseer
Consented not to rest within the hut
Far off the swine, but furnished forth himself
With gear for nightly guard. Odysseus saw
Rejoicing, that he heeded thus his charge
In his lord’s absence. First he slung sharp sword
About his stalwart shoulder; next he donned
A cloak, wind-proof, exceeding thick, and made
The skin all hairy of a well-fed goat
His head-dress: so equipped, he stept outside,
Javelin in hand to guard him from assail
Of savage dogs or robbers: so he passed
To where beneath a cavern’d rock the boars
Lay sleeping, screened from Boreas by the rock.
BOOK XV.
1—25.

230 THE SCENE CHANGES TO SPARTA

ODYSSEY XV.

Meantime Atbene on her way had gone
To spacious Lacedemon, there to bid
The prince Odysseus’ son Telemachus

-Bethink him of a quick return to home.

Him lying in the portico she found

Before renownéd Menelaus’ halls,

With Nestor’s son who lay in sleep profound:

But on the other no sweet slumber fell,

Since melancholy thought the whole night through

For his dear father deeply moved his heart :

Near whom the bright-eyed Goddess standing spoke:
“ Prom home, Telemachus, no longer stray,

Leaving thy great possessions unsecured

And those disdainful enemies in thy house ;

Lest they divide amongst them and devour

Thy substance, and this journey be but vain.

Rather bid warlike Menelaus haste

To speed thee back, if thou at home wouldst find

Thy noble mother still. For all her kin

And her own father urge her to accept

Eurymachus, the noblest of that troop,

Who offers a large dower and marriage-gifts

Promised yet more profusely since thou sailed.

Beware thee therefore lest in thy despite

She take some rich possession with herself

Out of thy house: for thus (thou knowest) is sway’d

The heart of woman; she would fain increase

His wealth, who weds her, but makes no account

Thereafter of her former husband dead

Nor of his children—reckless how they fare.

Go then thyself and of thy women-slaves

Choose her who seems most faithful, and entrust
WHERE ATHENE WAKES TELEMACHUS 231

All to her charge, till Gods before thine eyes BOOK XV.
Set thine own wife and helpmate. Hear me more, 26-59.
And ponder this my saying within thy heart.
The bravest of these Wooers now are laid
In ambush at the strait ’twixt Ithaca
And steep-cliff'd Samos, purposing thy death
Ere thou canst reach again thy native land.
But earth shall hold them in their graves, I trow,
Before this fate befalls thee! Keep thy ship
Par from the isles; push on both night and day
Before the breeze which some Immortal, who
Holds watch and ward, will send thee. When thou
comest
To the first landing-place in Ithaca,
Despatch thy crew and galley to the town,
But land thyself, and to the swineherd go
Who keeps thy herds, and holds thee in regard ;
And there repose the night ;.then send him on
Into the city to Penelope
With tidings, that according to her prayer
Thou hast returned from Pylos safe and sound.”
She spoke, and toward Olympus passed away.
But pushing with his heel he woke the son
Of Nestor from his pleasant sleep, and said:
“Wake thee, Pisistratus, and yoke the steeds
Under the car, that we may start forthwith ”’.
To whom Pisistratus in answer said:
«“ But by what manner of means, Telemachus,
However eager to be gone, can we
Drive horses through the darkness of this night ?
Twill soon be dawn ; be patient, till the King
Spear-faméd Menelaus Atreus’ Son
Bringing thee gifts and piling them on the car
Can speed thee with farewell and gentle words.
In fond remembrance all his days a guest
Will hold the host who thus approves his care.”
Even as he spoke gold-thronéd Morning rose ;
And gallant Menelaus towards them moved
Leaving his couch by fair-hair’d Helen’s side.

But, when Odysseus’ son beheld him near,
BOOK Xv.
60—92,

232 MENELAUS SPEEDS HIM OFF

With haste the glistening tunic to his skin
He donn’d, and round his shoulders hero-like
Casting large mantle, met him at the door,
And taking stand beside him spoke, and said:

“ Zeus-nurtured Menelaus, Atreus’ son,
Monarch of nations! Send me on my way
Whither my whole heart yearns to go—to home.”’

And gallant Menelaus made reply:

“If so desirous of return, brave youth,

For no long while will I detain thee here:
Myself would wax indignant with a host,

Whose kindness, beyond measure pushed, becomes
Ill-will no less excessive ; all things show

Best in their season and in order due.

’Tis equal hardship on unwilling men

To press departure or to urge more stay.
Cherish thy guest, whilst with thee in thy house,
But speed him onward, when he wills it so.
Abide thou therefore only till I bring

And put upon the car to feast thine eyes

Fair gifts, and bid the women in my house

Make ready a repast of things within.

To all men journeying over boundless earth
Glory and goodly countenance proceed

From breaking fast, and comfortable strength.
Howbeit if changing purpose thou wouldst go
Through Hellas and mid Argos, I myself

Will join thee and yoke my horses for our use
And through all cities of men will guide thee: none
Will send us empty away, but each will give
One gift at least, well worth the carrying home,
Some caldron, or a tripod wrought of brass,

A golden goblet, or a pair of mules.”

But sage Telemachus replied and said:

“ Zeus-nurtured Menelaus, Atreus’ son,
Monarch of nations! I prefer return

To our own country, seeing that, when I sail’d,
No guardian o’er my treasures safe I left,

And lest I perish in a further search,

Or some rich heirloom from my halls be lost.’

When valiant Menelaus heard that say,
WITH GIFTS OF PRICE 233

He bade forthwith his handmaids and his wife BOOK XV.
Make ready a repast from things within. 93—127.
Fresh-risen from his couch (he dwelt quite nigh)
Boethous’ son brave Eteoneus next
Approaching—Menelaus gave him word
To light a fire for roasting of the meats,
Who heard his lord’s behest, nor disobeyed.
Into a fragrant chamber then he passed,
Not uncompanion’d; fair-haired Helen went
With him, and Megapenthes. Entering in
Where lay his treasures, the great Chieftain took
A double-chaliced cup and bade his son
Uplift a silver bowl. But Helen stood
Beside the wardrobes where she kept enclosed
Rich robes embroidered by her own fair hands,
And lifted one of these, in cunning work
Loveliest, and largest, glittering like a star,
Inmost of all. So through their halls the two
Moved, till they reached Telemachus again ;
And thus the hero of the golden hair:
‘‘ May Zeus, far-thundering Here’s Lord, vouchsafe
To thee, Telemachus, the quick return
For which thou yearnest! I, of all the stores
That in my treasure-chamber lie, bestow
The gift most precious and by me most prized,
This cup, full deeply chased, of silver all,
Save that its lip is finish’d off with gold,
Wrought by Hephestus’ hand; but Sidon’s King
Heroic Phedimus then gave it me
When I found shelter during my return
Within his house: even this I gladly give.”
Speaking Atrides put into his hands
The double-chaliced goblet, whilst his son
Strong Megapenthes laid upon the ground
Before him the great bowl of silver bright.
Then fair-faced Helen, holding in her hands
The robe, addressed him thus, and softly said:
“T likewise, dear my Child, would give this robe,
Memorial dear of Helen’s hands, her gift
Against thy happy marriage-day, to clothe
Thy bride withal; but, till that wish’d-for hour,
BOOK xv.
128—158.

234. THE TWO PRINCES START WITH

With thy loved mother suffer that it rest.

So mayst thou reach, rejoicing on thy way,
Thy house well-builded and thy native land!”
Speaking she put it in his hands, and he

With joy received it. But Pisistratus
Gathering the gifts deposited them safe

Into the wicker underneath the car.

Then gold-hair'd Menelaus led them back
Into the palace, and all took their seats
Along the thrones and couches. Water pure
In a fair golden ewer a handmaid brought
And poured above a bason, of silver made,
Sprinkling their hands, and at their side set out
A polished board. A matron of the house
Put corn thereon and many cates beside,
Graciously bounteous of an ample store.
Boethous’ son divided out the meats,

To each his share; and Megapenthes served
The wine, and all attacked the dainty fare.

When the desire had passed of drink and food,
Telemachus and Nestor’s son ’gan yoke
The steeds, and mounting on the enamelled car
Clear of the porch and echoing corridor
Drave forth, behind whom Menelaus moved
And in his right hand bare a golden cup
Of honey-tasted wine, that ere they went
Libation might be duly poured to Heaven;
Standing before the car, he pledged them thus:
* Now fare ye well, dear youths; make full report
To agéd Nestor, shepherd of his realm,
Who, like a father, constantly to me
Showed favour, whilst we waged the war with Troy ”’.
And sage Telemachus replied, and said:
“Yea, of a surety, Zeus-born Hero, when
We reach him, all these things will we report,
Even as thou biddst us. Aye—and would to Heaven
Returning likewise into Ithaca
I there might meet Odysseus and could make
A like report to him—how I arrive
From finding all manner of kindness at thy hands!
AN OMEN INTERPRETED BY HELEN 235

Meantime I carry home thy splendid gifts.” BOOK XV.
And as he spoke along his right hand flew 158-190.
An eagle clutching in his talons (snatched
From out the tame flock in the court) a goose
White-plumed and large ; and men and women shrieked
Behind it; but approaching (still to the right)
Before the horses down it dashed: and all
Joyed in the omen, and their hearts were soothed ;
But Nestor’s son Pisistratus inquired:
“ Zeus-nurtured Menelaus Atreus’ son!
Doth Zeus show us this portent, or to thee ?”
He spoke, and Atreus’ son, by Ares loved,
Paused, pondering how to interpret it in sooth;
Whom long-robed Helen thus forestalling spake :
“Hear ye the interpretation that I give,
Cast by immortal Gods within my mind,
And what I deem shall surely come to pass!
Even as yon eagle from the mountain came
Leaving the eyrie where his eaglets lie
To seize the goose tame-nurtured in our house,
So, after wanderings long and countless woes,
So shall Odysseus suddenly in his house
Wreak vengeance—yea, perchance already at home
Matures on all the Suitors evil deaths.”’
And sage Telemachus replied, and said:
“May these things be! May Here’s thundering Lord
Great Zeus dispose it thus; and for thy sooth
Ev’n there a Goddess we will worship thee!”
He spoke, and laid the thong across the steeds
And through the city at their utmost pace
Eager they galloped towards the plain, and shook
The whole day long the yoke that sundered them,
Till the sun sank, and all the ways grew dusk.
Then to the house of Diocles they came
In Pherze—Diocles the son of brave
Orsilochus, and he of Alpheus child.
They rested there the night, and Diocles
All hospitable fare before them set.

With the first rise of rosy-fingered morn,
They yoked their horses to the enamelled car
BOOK Xv.
191—223,

236 AT HIS SHIP TELEMACHUS MEETS

And from the porch and echoing corridor
Pricked them again, and, nothing loth, they flew;
Till, when approaching Pylos’ well-built town,
Telemachus addressed his comrade thus:

“ How may I win thee, Nestor’s son, to make
A promise, and fulfil it to my wish ?

Our fathers’ ancient friendship makes us friends,
And we are one in age, and closer yet

This journey binds us by our common tastes.
Take me not past my ship, but leave me here,
Lest the old man, against my will, and moved
By his exceeding kindness, in his house

Detain me; I needs must haste further on.”

He spoke, and Nestor’s son within his mind
Pondered how best he might fulfil his wish.
Thus thinking, this he deemed the better course.
He turned his horses to the ship and shore,
Took from the car and stowed upon the stern
The robe and gilded bowl, the beauteous gifts
Bestowed by Menelaus, and anon
Speeding him onward spake these wingéd words:

“ Now haste thee to embark, and call thy crew,
Ere I can reach the house and make report
To agéd Nestor; for I know full well
His temper, how excessive in his ire.

He will not suffer thee to start, but come
Himself, nor, if he finds thee here, return
Without thee: certés he will be most wroth.”

So having said he thonged the glossy steeds
Back on the road to Pylos, where he gained
His father’s palace. But Telemachus
Urging his comrades gave them this command:

“ Range all the tackle, and embark yourselves
On the black ship, that we may sail forthwith”’.

He spoke: they heard him gladly, and obeyed,
And on the benches took their seats in rank.

Their Chieftain, all these cares and labours closed,
Stood by the galley’s stern in prayer, and poured
Offerings to Pallas, when a stranger came
Near him, a native of the Argive land,
THEOCLYMENUS THE SEER 237

But for some guilt of bloodshed now in flight, BOOK XV.
Born a soothsayer and of Melampus’ stock. 224—249

Midst Pylian pastures in a lordly house
And high estate Melampus dwelt of old,
Yet passed anon to other lands, for wrath
With mighty Neleus, then in Pylos king
And of that generation most renowned ;
Who seized by force Melampus’ goods, and kept
Possession, till a circling year had passed,
Whilst prisoned in the house of Phylacus *
With grievous bonds in deep distress he lay
For Neleus’ daughter’s sake, and for the cloud
Thrown by the smiting Fury o’er his eyes.
Howbeit he escaped that doom, and issuing forth
Drave safe the promised herds from Phylace
To Pylos, so fulfilling the hard terms
By godlike Neleus for his daughter asked,
Whom then he carried to his brother’s house,
Thereafter into other lands he passed,
To broad horse-pasturing Argos, destined there
To inhabit, and to rule the Argive race.
And there he built a lofty house and took
To wife Iphianassa, and begat
Two strong sons, Mantius and Antiphates.
Antiphates begat brave Oicles,
And Oicles begat the lord of men
Amphiaraus, whom far-thundering Zeus
And king Apollo with exceeding love
Cherished, vouchsafing favour and all power ;
And he across the threshold of old age
Passed not to death, but vanished from the earth
At Thebes, for jewels by his wife betrayed, +
Leaving Alcmzon and Amphilochus.

Of the other stem, were born to Mantius sons

*The same story is told at Op. xi., 287, Phylacus and Iphiclus
being different forms of the same name. In details the two versions
complete each other.

+Eryphylé. Cf. Op. xi., 331.
BOOK XV
250—280.

238 AND RECEIVES HIM ON BOARD

Kleitus and Polypheides. Gold-throned Dawn
Took for his beauty’s sake to dwell in Heaven
Kleitus from earth ; but King Apollo gave

To Polypheides gifts of prophecy

In highest measure amongst mortal men

After Amphiaraus. Yet he made

His home in Hyperesia far away

For anger against his father: there he dwelt,
A soothsayer prophesying truth to men.

His son it was (named Theoclymenus)
Who now approached and found the prince in prayer
And pouring forth libation by his ship,
Addressed him thus with wingéd words, and said:
“Since, Friend, I find thee at worship in this place,
By that same offering, by the God implored,
And next by thine own life, and by the lives
Of those who follow for their trust in thee,
I entreat thee, answer truly what I ask!
Who and whence art thou? Who thy kith and kin?”
And sage Telemachus replied and said:
“ Stranger, I answer this without reserve.
From Ithaca I boast me by my birth;
And—(if indeed his life was not a dream)—
My father was Odysseus, now, alas,
Utterly lost in miserable death !
And I am come with this my ship and crew
Seeking some tidings how he vanish’d hence.”
And godlike Theoclymenus replied:
“I also have left my country, since I slew
A fellow-tribesman ; and his kin are strong
In number, through horse-pasturing Argos spread,
And rule with might the Achaians. From their hands
Death I escaped and fate that compassed me,
Yet henceforth doomed to wander o’er the world.
But take me on thy ship: a fugitive,
I kneel thy suppliant, lest they overtake
And slay me; for I deem them in pursuit.”
And sage Telemachus replied and said:
“| will not thrust thee from the well-trimm’d ship,
Of that be sure, if thou desirest to go;
NEXT DAY AT EUMAEUS’ HUT 239

Thou shalt have yonder what is ours to give”’. BOOK Xv.
He spoke, accepting from the other’s hand 281—314.

His brazen spear, and this across the deck

He laid, and mounting on the stern they sate

Together, and loosed the hawsers at the stern,

Then on his crew he called and bade them range

The galley’s gear ; they hearkened, and upraised

Into its hollow’d rest the pinewood mast

And made it firm with forestays; then the sails

They hoisted, gleaming white, with leathern shrouds:

To whom Athene sent a favouring breeze,

Mightily blowing from an azure sky,

That o’er the briny waters racing fast

Their ship might soon accomplish her return.

Then the sun sank, and all the ways grew dusk.

Before the sky-born breeze the ship made way
Towards Phez, skirting Elis’ sacred coast
Where rule the Epeians. Thence he steered the bark
Right for the Needle Isles, but doubting much
Whether he perish or escape the snare.

Meantime the worthy swineherd in the hut
And Odyseus were breaking fast at dawn,
With the retainers likewise at their board.
When the desire had passed of drink and food,
Odysseus, speaking, of the swineherd made
A further trial; would he, of the love
He bare him, bid him at the farm remain,

Or would he urge departure to the town?

“ Hear me, Eumeus, hear me, ye his men!
This early morn I fain would travel on
Up to the city, and beg my living there,

Nor longer be a tax to thee and thine.

Instruct me therefore, or send with me a guide;
Since, though perchance a charitable hand
May dole me a cup of water or a crust,

Alone I can but idle through the streets;

But, if I gained divine Odysseus’ house,

I straight might take my tidings to the Queen,
Discreet Penelope, or haply find
BOOK Xv.
315—348.

240 ODYSSEUS INQUIRES CONCERNING

Occasion to approach these Suitors proud, ,
Who would of their abundance grant a sop:
And, though they willed some service in return,
I could perform it, whatsoe’er it were ;

For hear me, and remember what I say.
Hermes the guide in Heaven bestows all grace,
All glory, that belongs to acts of men;

And by his favour none of mortal kind
Corrivals me in serviceable skill,

Whether to keep up fire, or splinter logs

In fagots, or to carve the meats, or cook,

Or brim with wine a goblet—yea, all tasks,

For great men done by underlings, I do.”

Much troubled, thou, Eumzeus, madest reply:
“Woe to me, Stranger! Why hath this wild thought
Lodged in thy brain? Thy sole desire must be
To perish altogether and forthwith,

If thou wouldst join that throng, whose high disdain
And arrogant outrage strike the iron skies.

Not such as thou the servants of their house,

But young, and sleek of hair, and comely-cheeked,
Well clad in tunics and in mantles, those

Who serve them ; and their polished tables groan
Under their burthen of meats and wine and bread.
Stay therefore here! thy presence brings no loss
To me nor to any follower that is mine.

And when Odysseus’ well-loved son returns,

With change of raiment he will cheer thy heart,
And send thee whither thou art fain to go.”’

To whom the long-enduring Hero thus:

“From Father Zeus, Eumzeus, mayst thou find
Ev’n such regard as mine ; who givest me rest
From wanderings and the lamentable life ;

For no affliction comes to mortal men

Worse than this vagabondage, though perforce
For the cursed belly’s sake it must be borne
By those on whom its trouble and pains have fallen.
But, as thou hast detain’d and bidden me wait
Telemachus’ returning, give me news

Of the dear father whom Odysseus left

Upon the threshold of old age forlorn,
HIS FATHER AND MOTHER 241

And of his mother. Are they living still BOOK XV.
In the warm region of the radiant sun, 349—379.
Or are they dead, and gone to Hades’ gloom ?”
To whom the swineherd-overseer replied:
“Stranger, I answer thee without reserve.
Still lives Laertes, but imploring Zeus
In his own house with prayers continually
Por the releasing of his soul from earth:
So terribly is he stricken, for-his son
Long absent, and for his brave-minded wife,
Whose death most prey’d upon him, and broke him down
Into the pitiless clutch of drear old age.
Of grief she perish’d for her glorious son,
Sadly indeed—I pray that such-like death
May never on another fall, who dwells
So neighbourly and kind in act to me.
Whilst she, for all her sorrow, still lived on,
So long it liked me well to go and ask
Her tidings ; for she had reared me side by side
With long-robed Clymene her youngest child
And honoured me with barely less regard
Than her, my foster-sister, tall and fair.
When we had reached the sweet spring-tide of youth,
Her they espoused in Samé and received
Unnumbered gifts withal; but me she clad
In cloak and tunic, raiment rich and fair,
With sandals to my feet, and sent me forth
To field-work, though she cherished me not less.
The Immortals favour indeed with good increase
This business under me; and yet I miss
Ofttimes that ancient bounty, whence I drew
My food, and for the poor had still to spare.
Even to approach our mistress—so to look
For a chance act of kindness at her hands,
Or word as kindly—is not easy now,
Since these wild Wooers came—the house’s curse.
And for this cause her old retainers lack
The frequent gossip, the full table served
And oft herself presiding ere they left,
Or the gifts taken to their homes afield,
Small things, but such as lek a servant’s heart.”
6
BOOK Xv.
380—411.

242 EUMAEUS NARRATES HIS OWN CHILDHOOD

To whom deep-wiled Odysseus made reply:
“Twas therefore in thy childhood, Swineherd true,
When without home or parents thou camest here.
Speak truly, tell me all without reserve.

Was some broad city vanquished and despoiled,

Wherein your father and fair mother dwelt ?

Or wast thou caught amongst the flocks and herds

Seized by a rover’s gang and hurried along

And so transported to a master’s house,

Whereto he bought thee for a goodly price?”
To whom the swineherd-overseer replied :

“ Since such is thy inquiry and demand,

Seated in silence, Stranger, take my tale.

Hear me with understanding ; drink thy wine

Contentedly ; the nights are endless now,

A man can have his sleep and story too.

Why go abed before the seemly hour ?

Excessive sleep is harmful. Let these go,

Whose-ever mind and temper bid him forth,

Outside, and slumber there. With early dawn

To-morrow they must up and be afield

After our wont to graze our master’s swine.

Drinking and eating in the hut we two

Remaining—let us satisfy our hearts

Recounting to each other the sad tales

Of both our lives: since even from grief itself

Some pleasure rises in the after times,

When we have wandered much, and much have borne.

“A certain island, Syrié by name,
Lies southward of Ortygia (thou perchance
Mayst know it) where the sun attains the point
Whence he wheels westward ; not exceeding thick
With population, but a fertile soil
Wealthy in oxen and sheep and corn and wine.
No famine touches ever a homestead there,
No sickness, such as wretched mortals loathe;
But as the generations wax in years
O’er them Apollo of the silver bow
And golden-quivered Artemis hand in hand
Pass with their gentle darts and painless slay.
HOW HE HAD BEEN KIDNAPPED — 243

Two are their cities, in two shares their lands, BOOK Xv.
And over both my father Ctesius reigned, 412—445
Ormenus’ son, regarded like the Gods.

“ Thither it chanced that some Phcenicians came,
Of the seafaring nation, tricksters all,
Bringing much jewelry aboard their ship.
There was a slave-girl in my father’s house,
Fair, and well-grown, in rich embroideries skilled,
By birth Phoenician also; and the crew
Made love with flatteries gross and palpable,
Till one man gained her favour and lay with her,
Where she washed raiment, near their hollow ship.
Such arts beguile the souls of woman-kind,
Even of the virtuous: and he asked her then,
Who she might be, and whence she now had come.
She showed my father’s lofty house, and said:
‘Of wealthy Sidon I may boast my birth,
Daughter of Arybas, whom fortune once
Flooded with gold; but me the Taphians seized,
As from the fields I walked, and hurried away
To this man’s house ; a goodly price he gave’.
The man, who lay with her by stealth, replied:
‘Wilt thou not follow with us back to home,
And see thine ancient high-roof’d house once more,
Thy father and thy mother? For, in sooth,
They still are living and are reckoned rich.’
To whom the girl replied, and answered thus:
‘This well might be, if, Sailors, ye consent
To bind yourselves down by an oath, that you
Will carry me uninjured back to home’.
She spoke, and all, as bidden, sware the oath:
When it was uttered to its close, again
The woman spoke, and thus addressed her words:
‘Wait now in silence; neither of the crew
Let any who chance to meet me in the streets
Or at the fountain, ever accost me at all;
Lest the old man, my master, hear thereof,
And throw me of suspicion into bonds,
Devising likewise how to ruin you.
Keep your tongues therefore bridled well, and haste
BOOK Xv.
446—477.

244 AND SOLD TO LAERTES

The purchase of your cargo. When the ship
Is freighted with full substance, so contrive
That tidings reach me quickly in the house.
Whatever gold may come to hand, I'll bring.
And, were I willing, yet another fee
For this my passage I could pay—being nurse
Unto a great man’s child in yonder house,
One clever of his years, who at my side
Runs freely out of doors, and I with ease
Might bring him with me—worth his weight in gold,
Wherever ye carry him into foreign parts.’

She spoke, and left them for our mansion fair.

“ A whole year long they bode upon our coast
Buying much substance for their hollow ship
Till for their voyage it was freighted full.

Then to our house they sent a messenger

To inform the slave-girl; and he came, a man

Of cunning, to the women’s chambers and brought
A golden necklace strung with amber beads
Which my fair mother and her handmaids felt
Betwixt their fingers, feasting full their eyes,
Bargaining its price; whilst he the occasion took
To nod at her, and having made the sign
Departed. She then took me by the hand

And led me out of doors. Within the porch
Goblets she found and tables empty left

By those who in my father’s service work’d

And there had feasted ; but they all had gone
Off to some city-council or debate.

Three cups she took and in her bosom’s folds
Hid them away: yet I still followed on,

In a child’s heedless fashion, noting nought ;
And the sun sank, and all the ways grew dusk.

“So with quick steps we gained the famous port,
Where the Pheenicians’ gallant ship still lay ;
And, mounting us aboard, they sailed forthwith
Across the sea with favouring wind from Zeus.
Six days and nights alike we voyaged on;
But when great Zeus had brought the seventh to light
TELEMACHUS LANDS SAFELY 245

Then arrow-shooting Artemis struck dead BOOK XV.
The woman; and she plunged on a sudden down 478—512.
Into the hold, like sea-gull in the waves ;

And overboard a prey to seals and fish

They threw her: I was left in grief forlorn.

To Ithaca by wind and tide they came;

And there Laertes bought me for his house.

Thus was this isle beholden first by me.”

Zeus-born Odysseus made reply, and said:
“Deeply, Eumzeus, hast thou stirred my heart
Recounting all these troubles and thy pains.

Yet one thing good beside things evil Zeus

Hath brought on thee, that thou hast reach’d repose
In a kind master’s house who food affords

And drink, ungrudging ; so thy life is cheered

With comfort still; whereas my wanderings long
Through men’s abodes have stranded me a waif.”

Each to the other thus they held their talk,

Nor slept long time, but only a little while,
For gold-throned Dawn rose quickly.

At that hour
The comrades of Telemachus reached land,
’Gan furl their sails, and, lowering the tall mast,
Pushed with their oars the galley into port,
Cast out their moorings, and made fast the stern
With ropes thereto, and going ashore themselves
Prepared repast and mixed a glowing wine.

When all desire had passed of drink and food,
Discreetly thus Telemachus begun:

“On to the city push the gallant bark,
Whilst I will visit the neatherds and the fields.
Not till the eve and after seeing the farms
Shall I reach thither, and then will pay your fee
With savoury meats and wine before you set.”

But godlike Theoclymenus replied :

«Whither shall I betake me, my dear Child?

Into whose halls in rugged Ithaca

Of all its chieftains wouldst thou bid me go?

Straight to thy house and mother shall I turn?”
And sage Telemachus replied, and said:
BOOK XV.
513—546,

246 SENDS THE SHIP ON AND

“To our house, so it were in other case,

I should invite thee straight; it lacks not means
For hospitable fare; but thou wouldst lodge
The worse, for mine own absence, and because
Thou wilt not see my mother: she remains
Aloof of all the suitors in the halls,

I’ the upper chambers weaving on her loom.
Another chief I name thee for thy host,

The gallant son of warlike Polybus,
Eurymachus, by all in Ithaca

Regarded like a God—noblest himself,

And ardent most to win my mother’s hand

And great Odysseus’ kingdom therewithal.

But Zeus, Olympian Zeus who dwells on high,
Knoweth these things, and whether, ere she weds,
He will not o’er them bring an evil day.”

And, as he spoke, across his right hand flew
A hawk, Apollo’s swift-winged messenger,
Clutching a dove and tearing out its plumes,
And showering them so down earthward, that they dropped
Betwixt the galley and Telemachus ;

Whom Theoclymenus then called apart,

Clung to his hand, and spoke his name, and said:
“ Not without God’s good will, Telemachus,
Across thy right hand hath this bird now flown;

I knew it for an omen as it came.
No house more kingly than thine own exists
In Ithaca, and ye shall wax in strength.”

But sage Telemachus in answer said:

“ May this thy word, O Stranger, be fulfilled!

And friendly gifts from me shalt thou receive

So great, that any who meets shall deem thee blest.”
He spoke, and to a faithful comrade turned :

“ Peirzeus, Clytus’ son, who, most of all

The comrades in my company that went

To Pylos, hast in other things been true,

So now receive this guest within thy house,

With all due kindness, till I come again”.

Spear-famed Peirzeus answered him, and said:
‘¢ How long soever, Prince, thy absence last,
Him I will cherish; nothing shall he lack’’.
DEPARTS ALONE TO EUMAUS 247

Speaking, he went aboard, and bade the crew BOOK XV.
Also embark and loose the ropes astern: 547—557.
All following on the benches took their seats.

But to his feet Telemachus made fast
Fair sandals, and from off the galley’s deck
Lifted a javelin tipt with brazen point.
Loosing the cables they pushed off and sailed,
Even as divine Odysseus’ dear-loved son
Had bidden them, toward the city. But their prince
Strode swiftly with long steps away, to where
His countless swine were lying in their yard,
And the good swineherd, of the tender care
He bore his masters, sleeping near them, lay.
BOOK XVI.
1—24,

248 HE ARRIVES AT THE HUT

ODYSSEY XVI.

At early dawn together in the hut
Odysseus and the worthy swineherd now
Were making ready a breakfast, and had sent
The others with the droves of swine afield, _
When, as the Prince approached, the loud-tongued dogs
Ran forth to greet him, without noise or bark,
But fawning round him. These Odysseus saw
While sound of footsteps reached his ear; he turned
Straight to Eumzeus, speaking wingéd words:
“Some friend, Eumzus, will be close at hand,
Well with the place acquainted, for the dogs
Bark not, but round about him fondly fawn ”’.
And all his utterance had not yet been said,
When his dear son was standing in the porch.
Astonied, to his feet the swineherd sprang,
And from his hand the vessels dropt, wherewith
A sweet wine he was blending. Face to face,
To his dear lord he went, and kissed his head,
And both his beaming eyes and either hand,
While a warm tear ran down his cheek—most like
Some father, who of his deep love may greet
A son returning from a land remote
In the tenth year—an only son, and born
Of his old age, for whose dear benefit
Much trouble and labour he hath undergone ;
Ev’n so the worthy swineherd clung close round
And cover’d with his kisses the dear youth
Telemachus, as once scarce saved from death;
Till from an anxious heart he spoke, and said:
“Light of mine eyes, sweet youth, thou hast returned!
I said to mine own heart, when thou hadst sail’d
For Pylos, I should never see thee more.
WHERE ODYSSEUS IS DISGUISED 249

Haste therefore, dear my child, and enter in, BOOK XVI.
That I have my fill of pure delight 25—57.
Beholding thee again, from such far lands
Newly arrived, and in my own abode.
Not frequent now thy visits to the farm
Or to thy herdsmen ; thou preferr’st the town ;
And much it must content thee to behold
The abhorréd throng of Suitors there supreme.”
And sage Telemachus replied, and said:
“So shall it be, kind Friend; ’tis for thy sake
That hither I have come, both for the joy
Of seeing thee, and from thy lips to hear
Whether my mother still remains to me
In our own house, or whether another Chief
Hath borne her off, and haply Odysseus’ bed,
For lack of those that should lie thereupon,
Stands with foul spiders’ webs around it strung”.
To whom the swineherd-overseer replied :
‘Nay, for in patience most exceeding sad
She bideth in thy house; her days and nights
In tears and lamentation waste away”.
Speaking, he accepted from his hands the spear
As he passed in across the threshold-stone ;
For whom his noble father Odyseus
Rose up, to yield his seat ; from th’ adverse side
Telemachus prevented him, and said:
“ Rest seated, Stranger; we shall find elsewhere
In our own farm another seat ; and one
Is present, who will bring it duly here’.
He ceased ; Odysseus took his seat again.

Eumzus next put trenchers at their side
Full of meats saved from yester-eve’s repast,
And, rapidly in baskets heaping bread,
Mingled a wine like honey in a cup,

Then right before Odysseus placed himself.
Upon the dainty fare they laid their hands.

When the desire had pass’d of drink and food,
Telemachus address’d the swineherd thus:
“Whence came, kind Priend, this stranger to thy
house ?
BOOK XVI.
58—89,

250 AND EXPLAINS THE PRESENT

How fared he hither? For I trow right well,
He came not into Ithaca on foot.”

Eumeus, thou, the swineherd, madest reply:
“ These things I tell thee truly, dear my child.
He boasts him of the wide-spread Cretan stock,
And saith, by eddying tempests toss’d about,
Much he hath wander’d through the abodes of men:
Fate on his life’s thin thread this misery span.
From some Thesprotian galley just escaped,
He fled for refuge hither to my farm ;
To thee I now transfer him; as thou wilt,
So do; he claims from thee a suppliant’s rights.”

But sage Telemachus made answer thus :
“This that thou sayest, Eumzus, grieves my heart,
How shall I take this stranger to my house ?
I am but young, and, if some violent man
Perchance assail him, cannot trust my strength
To ward it off his head. With sunder’d will
In doubt my mother ponders, whether now
Still to remain with me and tend the house
Holding in due regard her husband’s bed
And the whole people’s voice—or whether anon,
Of these Achaian Chieftains in our halls
Seeking her hand, to wed her unto him
Who seeming noblest brings the greatest gifts.
Howbeit, a stranger in thy house he sits ;
And therefore I will clothe him in a change
Of raiment fair, a tunic and a cloak,
With two-edged sword and sandals to his feet,
And send him whither he is fain to go.
Retain him then, and tend him in the farm,
If so thou wilt; the raiment I will send,
And all provision for his maintenance,
Lest thou and thy retainers lose thereby.
But thither midst the Suitors I forbid
His going, if my voice is heard at all;
Too uncontrolled the violence of their hearts ;
Lest there they heap some insult on his head,
And greatly should I grieve, but all in vain.
Ev’n for a strong-grown man ’twere difficult
Against such numbers to effect his will,
CONDITION OF HIS HOUSE 251

And they are much the stronger.” BOOK XVI.
So he ceased, 90—121.
To whom divine Odysseus then replied:

“Dear Youth, since | may claim to answer thee,
Deeply my inmost soul was stung to hear
What overweening deeds of violent wrong
The Suitors in thy house, ye say, complot
In thy despite, all princely as thou art.

Are thou subjected of thine own free will?

Or are the people hostile in thy town

Subservient to some Voice oracular

Of Gods against thee? Or the blame hereof
Throwst thou upon thy brethren—those in whom,
When a great cause of quarrel hath arisen,

A man for help in battle puts most trust ?

To this my valour would I added youth,

Like great Odysseus’ son or even himself,
Straight let some stranger then strike off my head,
If I proved not a curse to all their lives!

Yea, though they overcame me, being alone,

By force of numbers slain in mine own house,
Liefer I so would perish, than endure

For ever such misdeeds before my eyes,
Maltreated guests, handmaidens by rough hands
Shamelessly through my palace-chambers dragg’d,
Wine spilled, and substance eaten—all for nought,
For issues unaccomplished vainly spent!”’

And sage Telemachus replied, and said:
“These things I answer thee without reserve.
Through no aversion of the city-folk
Am I pressed hardly, neither may I throw
The blame hereof on brothers—those in whom,
When a great cause of quarrel has arisen,

A man for help in battle puts most trust.
Throughout the generation of our house

Great Kronos’ Child hath made us single sons ;
Arceisias thus begat Laertes ; such

Odysseus to his father; such am I,

Left by Odysseus lonely in his halls—

A father’s pleasure in his son foregone!
Wherefore unnumbered enemies in my house
BOOK XVI.
122—154,

252 EUMAEUS SENT TO PENELOPE

Now lodge, both noble Chieftains of the isles,
Dulichium, and Zacynthus forest-clothed,
And Samé—and also those who lord it here
In rugged Ithaca—all seek the hand
Of my dear mother, and eat my substance up,
Whilst neither she refuseth her consent
To such loathed marriage, nor hath powers enow
To make an end: and they consuming waste
My household, and will soon destroy myself.
Howbeit these things are on the knees of Gods.
But thou, kind Friend, go quickly, and inform
Discreet Penelope that I have come
Safe to her prayers from Pylos; in thy hut
I bide meantime ; but hither straight return
After thy privy message to her ear: ;
Let no Achaian hear of this at all;
For many against me make their evil plots.”
Eumzus, thou, the swineherd, gavest reply:
“IT know, I mark thee, to a man of sense
Thou givest thine orders: tell me also this;
Shall I not likewise to Laertes go
With the same message to his misery ?
Though grieving sorely for Odysseus’ fate,
Up to this time he yet would keep close eye
On the field-work, and with his servitors
Would eat and drink according to his wants;
But, since thou sail’d for Pylos, from that hour
They say he hath not eaten or drunken aught
Nor at their labour cast a glance, but sits
In lamentation and continual tears
Lost, and the skin shrinks shrivelling on his bones.”
But sage Telemachus made answer thus:
“Tis piteous, but we needs must pass him by,
We cannot serve him now, despite our grief.
If all things lay within a mortal’s wish,
My father I should first desire return’d.
After thy message therefore straight come back,
Nor swerve into the country even for him;
But bid my mother send in secret forth
Some handmaid, to inform the old man so.”
He spoke and stirred the swineherd forth, who took
ATHENE TRANSFORMS THE HERO 253

His sandals up and bound them to his feet, BOOK XVI.
So moved towards the city—not unmarked 155—187.
By great Athene as he left the farm;
Approaching then She made her like in form
To some majestic woman, tall and fair,
Well-skilled in rich embroideries, and stood
Clear to Odysseus, though Telemachus
Knew not her presence, nor conceived her nigh:
Not to all eyes Gods manifest are shown.
But Odyseus beheld her, and the dogs
That shuddered back affrighted through the farm
Making no sound. With nodded brow she gave
Her signal; and divine Odysseus saw
And going outside along the yard’s high fence
Took stand before her, whom she thus addressed:
“Man of much craft, Laertes’ Zeus-born child!
Now tell thy son thy story; nought conceal ;
That ye to this famed city both may go
With doom and death concerted in your minds
Against the Suitors; nor myself longwhile
For fiery love of battle shall abstain.”
She spoke, and touching with her golden wand
First in a spotless cloak and tunic clad
His body, and to the stature of his prime
Raised him; his skin grew olive-clear; his cheeks
Filled out; and on his chin the beard showed dark.
Thereafter She departed.
To the hut
Odysseus moved him back; whereat his son
Astonied, all in awe lest God he be,
Turned his eyes otherwhere, yet spoke, and said:
“ Quite diverse now from what thou wast before
All in a moment, Stranger, thou hast shown !
Altered thy raiment, and thy face unlike.
A God indeed and habitant of Heaven!
Have mercy, therefore, spare us, whilst we bring
Rich offerings, and fair gifts of beaten gold.”
To whom the long-enduring Hero thus:
“Why to Immortals wouldst thou liken me,
No God, but thine own father, for whose loss
Lamenting, thou art suffering sore distress,
BOOK XVI.
188—219.

254 TO HIS OWN SHAPE AGAIN

Maltreated at the hands of violent men?”
He spoke, and kissed his son, and down his cheeks
A tear dropt, while with unrelaxing grasp
He held him out before him; whom not yet
Telemachus could well believe to be
His father, but returned these words, and said:
“ Neither Odysseus nor my father thou,
Rather some Deity, who wouldst beguile
My heart with hope, that I the more may grieve
Hereafter: by no manner of means could man
Of mortal wisdom work these marvels, save
A God descended, who with ease divine
Could make him at his pleasure old or young.
An agéd man in hideous raiment clad
One moment past appearing, now erect
Resembling Gods the habitants of Heaven!”
To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:
“ Not overmuch admiring shouldst thou be,
Telemachus, nor startled, to behold
Thy father dear within his house again.
Of this be sure, no second Odyseus
Will ever come; for I am he, even such
As thou beholdest, after many woes
And many wanderings in the twentieth year
To my own native land return’d at last! -
This marvel of my change Athene wrought,
The Queen of battle, who, by power She hath,
Transforms me to whatever shape She wills,
A beggar now in rags, and then a youth
Princely, with glorious raiment round me thrown.
The heavenly Gods controlling mortal man
With ease exalt him, with like ease abase.”
He spoke and took a seat: Telemachus
Flung himself round his noble father, and clung
About him, shedding tears; and from the depths
Of either’s heart the yearning strongly rose
Of lamentation, mixed with short shrill cries
Repeated, quicker than the cries of birds,
Eagles or crook-clawed vultures, when their brood
Of nestlings yet unfledged is stolen away ;
So piteously the tear streamed down their cheeks.
THE SON ACKNOWLEDGES THE FATHER 255

O’er whom in that lament the sun had sunk, BOOK XVI.
Had not Telemachus begun address : 220—253.
“Say, therefore; in what ship, O father dear,
And who thy sailors boast themselves to be?
How fared they hither? For I trow right well,
Thou camest not into Ithaca on foot.”’
To whom the long-enduring Hero thus:
“T answer this, dear Child, without reserve.
Phzeacians of the famed seafaring race,
Who give their escort to whoever comes
Unto their shores, conveyed me hither, and brought
On a swift-voyaging galley o’er the sea
And laid me down in Ithaca asleep,
With splendid gifts their freight, both gold galore,
And brass, and woven raiment ; these lie safe
Within the caverns stored by help divine.
Thence by Athene I was moved to come
Hither to thee, that we might frame some plan
For slaughter of our enemies in the house.
Speak therefore; of these Wooers tell me all,
That I may know their number, and who they be,
And, pondering in a thoughtful mind, may judge
Whether alone without extraneous aid
We two can bear ourselves against their might,
Or whether we should seek for others’ help.”
But sage Telemachus replied, and said:
“ Pather, of thy great glory I have heard
From childhood up, how thou wouldst ever show
Mighty in combat and in council wise.
But now thou speakst too largely, and I stand
Astonied: it were hopeless—such a fray,
Two against many, and those all men of might.
Not merely ten in number, nor twice ten,
Those Suitors, but far more; for hear their tale:
Flower of Dulichium’s youth come fifty and two
With six retainers; four and twenty men
From Samé; from Zacynthus a full score,
Achaian princes all; and of this isle
Twelve, even our noblest Chieftains, and with these
Medon the herald, and the bard divine,
And other two, skilled carvers of the meats.
BOOK XVI.
254—287.

256 THEY FORM AND DISCUSS

Facing all these together in the house

I dread thy vengeance for their outrages

Most bitterly recoiling on thyself,

Ev’n thy return becoming utter woe!

If thou then knowest of any, who would join

With us whole-hearted to maintain the right,

Bethink thee, who would champion thus our cause?”
The long-enduring Hero made reply:

*] tell thee; ponder in thy heart my words.

Would not Athene with our Father Zeus
Suffice us, or must we go forth to seek
Some other, to be champion of our cause ?”’

To whom the Prince discreet replied, and said:
“ Mighty indeed those champions whom thou namest,
Albeit on high they sit among the clouds,
For sovran over God and man They rule”.

The long-enduring Hero made reply:
“Those very Gods will not be long aloof
Of the dire fray, when once within our halls
Betwixt the misproud Suitors and ourselves
The fiery spirit of war is put to proof.
Go therefore with the dawn of day thyself
Homeward, and mingle with that upstart crew:
I later by the swineherd led will come
In the vile beggar-guise, an agéd man.
And though they do me outrage in the house,
Still in thy breast keep patient thy dear heart,
Despite my sufferings; yea, though by the feet
They drag me through the palace to the gate
Or at me aim their javelins—bear it all,
And only bid them from their follies cease,
Speaking them fairly with soft words; but they
Will hear thee not; their day of doom is nigh.
Yet one thing more, which ponder in thy heart.
When wise Athene puts it in my mind
A signal I will nod thee ; this perceived,
All warlike weapons in the hall now lying
Take up, and carry to a secret place
In the strong high-roof'd chamber. If our foes
Should miss them or make question, put them by
Perhaps with some soft answer such as this:
THEIR PLANS TOGETHER 257

‘Out of the smoke I took and laid them down. BOOK XVI.
The arms no more resembled those of old 288—320.
Left by Odysseus, when he sail’d for Troy;
All that the breath of fire had reached, were grimed.
Moreover Kronos’ Son inspired in me
This greater fear, lest haply, filled with wine,
For quarrel arisen amongst you in your cups,
Ye fly to arms, and each the other wound,
Your wooings and your feasting brought to shame:
For the mere sight of steel attracts a man.’
But leave two swords, two javelins, and two shields,
For us two only, where we can rush straight
And seize them, while their eyes will then be closed
Under the spell of Pallas and great Zeus.
One other hest I give, and mind it well;
If mine thou art and of our noble blood
True offspring, let no other ear receive
These tidings of Odysseus now at home.
Let not the swineherd nor Laertes know,
Neither the household, nor Penelope,
For thou and J alone can well discern
The leaning of the women. We might make
Some trial haply of the men’s good faith,
Of those, if such there be, who honour still
And hold us in due reverence, and of those
Who reck not, and despise thee for thy youth.”
To whom in answer said Telemachus:
“ Methinks, my father, even in that worst case,
Thou wilt discern the temper of my soul ;
No passions uncontrolled possess my breast.
But of the advantage of this plan I doubt ;
Consider ; if thou testest thus the men
One after other, visiting their fields,
In journeys thou wilt spend long hours in vain,
The while the Suitors at their ease within
Will grossly waste our substance, without stint.
Assay the women only, who are false,
Dishonouring thee, and who without offence.
But, for my part, I would not test the men
Forthwith ; let this be left to a later day,
If thou hast read aright the sign from Zeus.”
17
BOOK XVI.
321—354.

258 PENELOPE HEARS OF HER SON
Thus each with other they their converse held.

Meantime the well-built galley that had brought
Telemachus from Pylos with his crew
Was putting into Ithaca; and, soon
Within the deep-sea harbour, up the shore
They dragged the bark and carried its gear away,
But bare the beauteous gifts to Klytius’ house.
Then the brave comrades sent a herald on
Into Odysseus’ palace to convey
Their message to the noble-minded Queen,
How that Telemachus had gone himself
Into the country, but had bidden them sail
Back to the town, lest brave Penelope
Should of her fears be mourning for him still.
The herald and the faithful swineherd crossed
With the same message at the mansion’s gate.
Entering the palace of the King divine
The herald midst the handmaids spoke, and said :
“O Queen, from Pylos safe thy son hath come ”’.
But the other, drawing close beside her, told
All that her son had bidden him tell to her,
And having spoken his behest at full
Departed for his swine, and left the walls.

The Suitors, troubled and discomfited,

Beyond the courtyard’s lofty fence went forth
Leaving the hall and took their seats before
The outer gates: to whom Eurymachus

The son of Polybus began address:

“Friends, a great feat by young Telemachus,
Surpassing much his strength, hath been achieved,
This journey, which we said would come to nought.
Haste therefore, and, whichever may be best
Of our swift galleys, launch it out, and call
Good mariners for its oarsmen, that with speed
Those others, who are lying in ambuscade,

May learn these tidings and return to home.”

He scarce had ended when Amphinomus,
Slant-leaning from his seat, descried the ship
Entering the harbour ; with a ringing laugh
FOR WHOSE DEATH THE SUITORS ~— 259

He thus addressed the company, and said: BOOK XVI.

“Now send no more ; behold them there in port! 355—385.
Some God informed them, or themselves espied
But could not overtake the passing ship.”

He spoke; and, rising, to the sea-beach all
Descended, where they haul’d the black bark up
High on the strand, the while their followers
To shelter bore its gear. Together then
United, to the market-place they pass’d,

Forbidding others whether old or young
To join them in that session. First began
Antinoiis, Eupeithes’ son, and said:

“’Tis wondrous, how the Gods have saved this man
From all mishap! For through days long our scouts,
Perched on the windy promontories, sate
Watchful, and each from time to time relieved
The other: neither when the sun had set
Went we ashore, but cruising through the night
Awaited Dawn divine aboard the bark,

Watchful for capture of Telemachus,

Whom Heaven the while was bringing safe to home!
Concert we therefore now another plan

Of evil death against him, nor this while

Let him escape us; since, too well I trow,
Long as he lives, our task will have no end.
Wise is he, both in council and in mind;

And now no longer do the people bear

A gracious temper towards us. Up then, act,
Ere he assembles to the market-place

The Achaian public: not remiss nor slack

I deem him, but, arising in their midst,

And venting forth his anger, he will tell

Our plot of death against him, and how we fail’d.
Dream not they will applaud such injuries ;
Rather I fear their wreaking on us harm,
Driving us from our homesteads and our fields,
To seek new settlements in alien lands.
Forestall him, therefore ; kill him while we may
Out in the country absent from the town,

Or on the wayside: so we shall possess

And part amongst us all in equal shares
BOOK XVI.
386—417.

260 AGAIN TAKE COUNSEL

His wealth and substance, though we grant in dower
The houses to his mother, when she weds.

But, if these words displease you and ye prefer

That he should live and hold his father’s state,
Cease then, I bid you, cease from gathering here,
Consuming in this luxury his wealth.

From his own mansion let each man proceed

And press his courtship thence and woo with gifts:
So will she wed her unto him, who gives

Most largely, and who comes her destined mate.”’

He spoke; the others stood, to silence struck,
Mute, till Amphinomus began reply.

The son renown’d of Nisus (who was son
Of rich Aretius), from Dulichium’s coast
Fertile of corn and grassy meadow-land,
He came, the leader of the Suitors thence,
Most pleasing to Penelope; as one
Soft-speaking, and to virtuous use inclined.

He thus addressed them prudent words, and said:
“T would not, Friends, that we should kill this Prince.
A king’s son’s murther is a fearful thing.

First rather of the Gods inquire their will.

If the high oracles of mighty Zeus

Approve the deed, myself with mine own hand
Would slay him, or would urge another on;
But, if they be averse, I bid you pause.”

He spoke, whose counsel pleased them; and, forthwith
Uprising, to the palace of the King
They entered, and there took their burnished seats.

Anon the high-minded Queen Penelope
Conceived another thought—herself to go
Before them though in that outrageous mood.
For she had learned the plot against her son ;
Medon the herald, of their plans aware,

Had told her. Therefore to the hall she passed,
The flower of women, with her handmaidens,

And, when she reach’d the Suitors, took her stand,
Holding her glistening head-dress o’er her face,
Hard by a column of the well-built roof ;

Thence, naming, she rebuked Antinous thus:
PENELOPE UPBRAIDS ANTINOUS _ 261

“ Disdainful, false contriver of ill deed! BOOK XVI,
Antinous! Yet they say thou standest high 418—449.
Above thy peers in Ithaca’s domain
Por speech and counsel—no such Chief art thou!
Wretch! Oh of all the world shouldst thou be he
To weave around Telemachus this skein
Of doom and ruin, trampling on all laws
*Twixt host and suppliant, though by Zeus affirmed!
For these to compass one the other’s death
Is rank impiety! Rememberest not
The day thy father hither came in flight
Fearing his people wroth exceedingly
That with the Taphian rovers he had joined
To harry the Thesprotians our allies ?
Yea, they were keen to slay him—ev’n to tear
His heart out, and consume his livelihood
So large and tempting; yet Odysseus then
Controlled and in their fury kept them down.
And his the house thou plunderest, his the wife
Thou wooest, his the son whom thou wouldst kill—
And me condemning to this agony !
I bid thee cease, and make the others cease.”

To her Eurymachus replied and said:
“ Be of good cheer, O wise Penelope
Daughter of royal Icarus, nor let
Thy heart herewith be troubled overmuch.
The man exists not now, nor ever shall,
Neither in nature let it be supposed,
Who durst lay violent hands upon thy son.
Were't so, I tell thee what should come to pass;
His life-blood should be bursting off my spear.
For me too would the great Odysseus oft
Seat on his knee and put into my hands
Cooked meats, or to my lips reach ruddy wine.
Wherefore of all mankind Telemachus
To me is dearest; neither apprehend
His death—from these at least thy Suitors’ hands,
But, if from Heaven decreed, it needs must fall.”

He spoke words cheering, to the plot himself
Though privy. She departed through the house
To the rich upper chambers, there to mourn
BOOK XVI.
450—481.

262 EUMAUS REJOINS ODYSSEUS

Her dear lost husband, till Athene shed
At last across her lids a sweet repose.

Meantime at eve the worthy swineherd gain’d
Odysseus and Telemachus; and these
Intent above a yearling porker slain
He found preparing supper. As he came,
Athene near approached and, with her wand
Striking Odysseus, to an agéd man
Transformed and clothed him in foul garb again,
Lest haply the good swineherd face to face
Should know his lord and straight departing tell
The noble-minded Queen Penelope
Nor keep the secret guarded in his breast.
Telemachus addressed him first, and said:

“Worthy Eumzeus, thou art come at last!
What is the rumour running through the town ?
Have now those Suitors overbold return’d
And quitted ambuscade, or lie they still
In wait against me as I go to home?”

Eumzus, thou, the swineherd, mad’st reply:
“It was not in my charge to ask these things,
Nor make inquiries straggling through the town.
When I had given my message, with all speed
Back hither I was minded to return.

But a swift messenger from out thy crew

Join’d me and told it to thy mother first.

One thing I only know, which I beheld.

I was above the city, making way,

On Hermes’ hill, when I descried a bark

Entering our harbour ; it was full of men,

With bucklers thronged and iron-shodden spears;

I guessed ’twas theirs, but am not well assured.”
He ended; looking in his father’s eyes,

The youthful vigour of Telemachus,

Though pitying much the unconscious swineherd, smiled.

The toil being ended and the meal prepared,
They ate, nor found a lack of equal food,
And when desire had passed of drink and meat
Lay down, and all partook the boon of sleep.
TELEMACHUS QUITS THEM 263

ODYSSEY XVII.

With the first rise of rosy-fingered Dawn BOOK XVII.
Divine Odysseus’ dear-loved son made fast 1—28.
Fair sandals to his feet, and round a spear
Closed fingers firm, desiring now to go
City-wards, and addressed the swineherd thus:

“Into the town, Eumzeus, I will go
Straight to my mother’s presence, for I fear,

Not till she sees before her eyes myself,

Will she abstain from tears or sad lament.

To thee I give this order ; thither guide

Also this wretched stranger, let him beg

His living there ; who lists may give him alms:
Since with these sorrows gnawing at my heart
I am not patient to sustain all men.

If he be therefore angered, worse may hap:
Plain-speaking of the truth most pleases me.”

To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:

“ Myself, my Friends, would be detained no more.
A beggar fareth better in the streets

Than in the fields; who lists may give me alms.
Nor with my age accords it to remain

For service in the farm-yards at the beck

Or call of any master. Go content ;

And let the man, whom thou hast ordered, guide
Me likewise, when the fire has warm’d me through
And the sun gathers heat; for I am clad

In wretched raiment, and the morning frost

May strike me, since, ye say, the town is far.”

He ceased; and through the yard Telemachus
Passed with long strides, maturing in his mind
Much evil to the Suitors. When he reached
His spacious house, against a pillar tall
BOOK XVII.
29—60.

264 AND ENTERING HIS PALACE

He leaned the spear, and passing on within
Stept with firm tread across the threshold-stone.
First of the house, his nurse Eurycléa

Perceived him, as she strewed with fleeces thick
The carven seats, and all in tears ran straight
To greet him, and the other handmaids soon
Collected gave fond welcome to his home

With kisses on his head and shoulders showered.

Anon the noble Queen Penelope
Moved forth, and seemed the peer of Artemis
Or golden Aphrodite, as she came.
Round her dear son in tears she threw her arms,
Kissing his head and both his beaming eyes,
And, speaking from a sorrowing heart, began:
“ Light of my eyes, sweet Child, thou hast returned!
I said that I should never see thee more
After thou hadst gone to Pylos and embarked
In secret, all in my despite, to seek
Some hearing of thy father. Tell me all
Truly, whatever sight thou camest across.”
But sage Telemachus replied, and said:
“Though barely I be saved from sudden death,
Yet, Mother, neither lift a wailing voice,
Nor move the heart within me overmuch.
Rather return with all thy handmaids, mount
Into thine upper chambers, purify
Thyself with water, and in raiment fresh
Clothe thee, and at all altars make a vow
Of perfect hecatombs—so haply Zeus
May recompense thee with some perfect end!
Down to the market-place I go meanwhile
To invite a stranger thence, whom in my train
Returning, with my comrades I sent on
And to Peirzeus gave in charge, to treat
With due regard and honour, till I came.”
He ceased; her voice dropped wingless on her lips.
Yet, purified with water, clad afresh,
She made to all the Gods the vow prescribed
Of perfect hecatombs—if haply Zeus
Might recompense her with some perfect end!
RECEIVES THEOCLYMENUS 265

Through and from out the hall Telemachus BOOK XVII.
Then went and took his spear, and at his heels 61—91.
Two swift dogs followed. But Athene threw
A grace divine upon him, such that all
The people stared astonied as he came:

Round whom anon the haughty Wooers flocked
Speaking him fair, but in their hearts’ foul depths
Meaning him mischief. But he passed right on
Shunning the throng and went where Antiphus,
Mentor, and Alitherses, who of old

From the beginning were his father’s friends,

Were seated, and beside them took his chair,

Who straight ’gan question him of what had happed.

To these spear-famed Peirzeus soon drew nigh
And through the city to the market-place
Brought Theoclymenus his stranger-guest ;

From whom the Prince not long distracted show’d
But at their side took stand: Peirzeus spoke:

“ Speed handmaids to my house, Telemachus,
That I may send thee Menelaus’ gifts’’.

To whom the prudent Prince replied, and said:
“ Peirzeus, what the issue yet may be
We have no certain knowledge. If perchance
The Suitors overbold within my halls
Slay me by stealth and part my father’s goods
Amongst them, I would liefer thou shouldst hold
The dear possession of these precious things
Than any of them. But if I bring to pass
Their doom of slaughter, these into my house
Thou well couldst bring, rejoicing in my joy.”

Speaking he led the unhappy stranger home.

When the two reached his spacious palace, there
Along the couches and the chairs they laid
Their mantles, and betook them to the baths.
Bathed, and with oil anointed by the maids,
With woollen cloaks and tunics round them cast,
They left the polished baths and took their seats.
Then in fair golden ewer a handmaid brought
And poured above a bason of silver white
BOOK XVII.
92—125.

266 AND REPEATS TO PENELOPE

Water to lave them, and at their side set out
A burnished board. A matron of the house
Put corn thereon, and many cates beside
Graciously giving from her stores within.
But, adverse, near the pillar of a door
His mother on a couch reclining sate
Spinning her fine wool-twist, while they laid hands
Upon the dainty fare before them spread.
When the desire had passed of drink and food,
Penelope addressed them, full of care:
“ Again, Telemachus, I soon must mount
To mine own rooms, again must lay me down,
Where even the very bed seems made of sighs
And wet with tears flowing ceaseless since the day
When first Odysseus sail’d with Atreus’ sons
For Ilion’s town. Yet thou hadst not the heart,
Before the misproud Suitors enter’d in,
To tell me aught concerning his return,
If haply thou hast heard thereof at all.”
But sage Telemachus replied, and said :
“So, mother, I will tell thee these things true.
We went to Nestor, shepherd of his realm,
At Pylos, and within his lofty house
He gave me a loving welcome, as it were
A father to a son, from lands remote
Lately returned, after long absence; such
He with his glorious sons bestowed on me;
But said he never had heard from man on earth
Aught of Odysseus, whether he be dead
Or living still. He sent me therefore on
With well-built car and horses to the house
Of spear-famed Menelaus Atreus’ son.
And there I saw the Argive Helen—her,
For. whose sake by ordainment of the Gods
The Achaians and the Trojans strove so long.
And straight he questioned for what need I came
To sacred Lacedemon. All I told;
And he made answer in these words, and said:
‘Strange, strange in sooth! Great-hearted was the
man
Whose bed these veriest dastards would usurp!
THE NEWS LEARNED FROM MENELAUS_ 267

But as it happens when a hind has laid BOOK XVII.
Her unweaned nurslings in a lion’s den, 126—161.
Through glades and bosky dells she wanders on
Grazing, but he returning to his lair

Brings down on both her fawns a piteous death,

Such death Odysseus shall on these bring down,

Yea, by Athene, Phoebus, Father Zeus,

Would that Odysseus in their midst might stand

Such as he showed when once in Lesbos town

He rose to wrestle for a quarrel wroth

With Philomela’s son, and threw him down

Heavily—to the joy of all who saw—

Ah, might he in that glory reappear,

Sudden their deaths, bitter their wooings, then!

But of these things whereof thou now inquirest

No answer will I make beside the mark

Neither deceive thee; but whate’er to me

The ancient Soothsayer of the sea revealed

That will I tell nor aught from thee withhold.

He said he saw him sorrowing on an isle

Where in her caves Calypso held him loth ;

Thence to his native land he could not go,

Since he had neither oaréd ships, nor crews,

To waft him o’er the sea’s broad shoulders home.’
Even thus spear-faméd Menelaus spoke.
Thereafter I returned; the Immortals gave
A favouring breeze, and quickly sped me home.”
He spoke, and deeply moved his mother’s heart.
But godlike Theoclymenus then said:

““O noble wife of sage Laertes’ son!

Thy child knows not, but ponder thou my words,
I prophesy the truth and naught conceal.

First of the Gods be witness, Father Zeus,

And thou, O hospitable Board, and Hearth

Of great Odysseus, whither I have come,

That now already in his native land,

Resting somewhere, or moving, and inform’d

Of all these wicked deeds, Odysseus lives

To bring on all the Wooers evil deaths!

Such the high omen seen, what time I sate

On the bench’d galley, and to thy son declared.”
BOOK XVII.
162—195.

268 ODYSSEUS FOLLOWS WITH EUMZUS

To whom the great-soul’d Queen replied, and said:
“ May this thy word, O Stranger, be fulfilled!
And thou shalt have such kindness at our hands,
Such gifts, that any who meets shall deem thee blest.
Thus was their converse each with other held.

Meantime, in front of great Odysseus’ house
On the raised paven terrace, where they oft
Displayed them in their pride, the Suitors now
Took pastime in the sport of spear and quoit.
But, when ’twas supper-time and from the fields
On all four sides the sheep were driven in
By their accustomed keepers, Medon then,
Who of the heralds pleased them most, and sate
Amongst them at their feasts, address’d them thus:
“Enter the palace now, brave youths, and there
Prepare our feast, for all have had their fill
Of manly sport, and at the fitting hour
We well might do worse thing than take repast ’’.
He spoke; and rising they obey’d his call
And set them to the task. Great sheep, fat goats,
They slaughtered, and one herd-grazed ox, and swine,
For their immediate banquet.
But meanwhile
Odysseus and the worthy swineherd rose
To haste them from the country to the town;
Of whom the swineherd-overseer first spoke :
“Since, Stranger, thou hast made express desire
To go this day to the city, and this the charge
My master gave me—though I, verily,
Would rather leave thee here to guard the farm—
Yet I have fears, and bow me to his word ;
Lest he should blame hereafter my neglect.
Sorely on servants fall their lord’s rebukes.
Haste therefore! most of day hath now gone by;
And late in evening thou wilt feel worse chill.”
Whom sage Odysseus answered thus, and said:
“] mark and comprehend ; to one who knows
Thou speakest ; start, and guide me to the end.
Yet, if thou hast at hand a staff fresh-cut,
Give it me to support my steps; ye say,
AND MEETS ON THE WAY 269

A man is like to stumble on this path.” BOOK XVII.
He spoke, and round his shoulders threw again 196—225.

The unseemly wallet, patches all and holes,

Supported by a strap, and, as he wished,

Eumeeus brought a staff. So forth they went,

Leaving the charge o’ the farmyard to the hounds

And the other herdsmen who remained behind ;

So toward the city his true lord he led,

In semblance a poor agéd beggar, wrapt

In filthy clouts, and hobbling on a staff.

When, hastening down the rocky path, they drew
Nigh to the city, and had reached anon
The basin, for the pure-flowing fountain wrought,
Whence the townsfolk drew water—(of old time
Polyctor, Neritus, and Ithacus
Had built the place, and round it grew a grove
Of poplars, fed with runnels, in array
Planted about it: but the waters dropt
Down from the rock above, and, higher still,
An altar to the Naiads dedicate
Stood, and all wayfarers did worship there)—
Melanthius, son of Dolius, at that point
Crossed them, and with two other goatherds brought
The choicest of his breed of goats along
For the sleek Suitors’ eating. Loud he call’d,
Scoffing beyond all measure, with foul tongue
Abusive, and enraged Odysseus’ heart:

“One utter scoundrel brings another—Lo
Like unto like! Chance throws them, cheek by jowl.
Say, Swineherd ; whither take you this low lout,
This scurvy beggar, to infect our feasts ?
One who might rub his itching shoulders sore
Against the door-post ere he got his scraps—
No caldrons * nor no tripods * shine for him!
Whom if you lend to me to guard my farm,
To watch the pens, or fetch the kids fresh leaves,
Then, though his only drink were thinnest whey,
’Twould put some flesh upon his spindle-shanks !

* The customary presents made to guests.
270 MELANTHIUS WHO INSULTS THEM

Book xvi. But, with the evil habit he has caught,
226-256. He'll seek no work, I warrant, but prefers

With dastard cringe along a crowded street

To beg his never-sated belly full!

One thing I tell thee, which will come to pass.

If he durst venture to Odysseus’ house,

A pelting shower of stools about his ears

From men’s strong hands will rub his ribs well down.”
He spoke, and, as he passed, of wanton scorn

Sprang up, and kicked Odysseus on the spine,

Yet shook him off the path no whit ; unmoved

He firmly stood, and pondered in his mind,

Should he rush on and kill him with his staff,

Or should he grip him by the waist, and dash

Out on the ground his brains: yet patient still

He endured it, by mere strength of soul restrained.

But straight i’ the face the swineherd looked him down,

Returned his scoff, and with uplifted hands

Implored the heavenly Nymphs, and pray’d aloud:
“ Daughters of Zeus and Naiads of the spring !

If on your altar ever Odysseus made

Burnt-offering of the fat-enfolded thighs

Of lamb or kid, fulfil me my desire ;

May he return restored by Gods to home!

Then all thy coxcomb graces he would shred

To tatters, though thou flauntst them now so high,

Strutting about, a dandy, while thy flocks

With careless herdsmen perish of neglect.”
Melanthius, thou, the goatherd, madest reply:

“Hark ye the yelp of this ill-minded cur?

Yet it may hap that on a well-bench’d bark

I hurry him from Ithaca to sell

Where he would fetch a price to last my life.

I would the death of young Telemachus

(Whether by silver-bow’d Apollo’s shaft

Or by the Suitors slain) were now as sure

As is Odysseus’ loss of all return.”
He spoke and left them slowly trudging on.

But he, still hastening, quickly gained the house,
And entering near Eurymachus took seat,
THEY APPROACH THE PALACE 271

Who viewed him with most favour; at his side BOOK XVII.
A servant set his portion of the meats, 257—289.
The while a matron of the house brought bread.
Ere long Odysseus and the swineherd came
And stood beside the portal, whence was heard
The twang of lute-strings round them, by the bard
Phemius for pleasure of the Suitors tuned.
Odysseus caught the swineherd by the hand:
“This of a surety is Odysseus’ house,
Eumzus! Splendid, easy to discern,
Transcendent ’mongst the mansions of the world!
How one part springs from other! What a wall
And copings to the court-yard! And the doors
Are fencéd round, with folding panels closed.
No man could overween to pass it by.
Pull many a Chief, I wot, at banquet there
Within ; the smell is fragrant of the meats ;
And a lute murmurs music, which the Gods
Created sweet companion to repast.”’
Eumezus, thou, the swineherd, madest reply:
“Of quick perception, as in other things
So now in this, thou hitt’st the mark with ease.
But well consider what we next should do.
Either first enter in the house thyself
And mingle with the Suitors, leaving me ;
Or, if thou so prefer, remain outside,
And I will enter; but delay not long,
Lest some out-door retainer note thee here,
And aim or drive against thee: weigh this well.”
The lfong-enduring Hero answered thus:
“| mark, I comprehend; to one who knows
Thou speakest. But go forward first thyself,
And leave me here, not unaccustomed erst
To blow or missile, but with heart inured
To endless sufferings both on sea and land:
Let this to those be added; be it so}
Who by concealment can destroy the sting
Of curséd hunger? Countless evils this
Imposes on mankind, and for its sake
Are well-deck’d galleys furnished forth, to cross
The barren sea, and fraught with grief to foes.”
BOOK XVII.
290—322.

272 THE DEATH OF THE DOG ARGUS
Thus was their converse with each other held.

But Argus at the voice pricked up his ears,
The hound which staunch Odysseus in his youth
Had bred himself, yet nothing gain’d thereby,
Since he had sail’d soon after, bound for Troy.
Oft had young hunters laid him on the track
Of wild-goat, or of roe or nimble hare ;
But now, his master absent, thrown aside
He stretched him on the dunghill, heaped perchance
From mules and oxen in the doorway’s front
(Till that Odysseus’ labourers should come
And move it to manure the king’s demesne).
There, full of ticks, unhappy Argus lay ;
Yet when he saw Odysseus now quite near
He wagg’d his tail,to greet him, and full fain
Would have crept nigher, but could not, to his lord.
Much-moved, Odysseus dropt a hidden tear,
Yet, ’scaping easily Eumzeus’ eyes,
Dash’d it away, and suddenly inquired:
“°Tis wondrous-strange, Eumzeus, that this hound
Lies in the dung, well-shapen as he seems.
Yet this I know not clearly ; had he pace
Up to his form? Or was he merely one
Of those, which Chieftains at their tables feed,
Dressing their sleek-hair’d coats for vain display ?”’
Eumeus, thou, the swineherd, answered thus:
“ A Chieftain’s, in good truth, this dog was once.
And if in form and action he remained
What he then was when first Odysseus left,
His swiftness and his strength would well have roused
Thy wonder at his hunting: never game
Escaped him in the thickest woodland glade:
Whatever he might follow, by their trail
He knew them all most throughly: yet he lies
Neglected, in this miserable plight.
For far away from home his lord hath died ;
The careless women tend him not; and slaves,
If once their masters slacken in command,
Are slow to duties of their own accord.
Great Zeus robs half the virtue out of man,
ODYSSEUS BY ATHENE’S COMMAND 273

When slavery’s dark day pulls down his soul.” BOOK XVII.
He spoke, and enter’d the wide-chambered house, 323—354.

Straight passing toward the Suitors in the hall.

But death closed Argus’ eyes, with faithful look

Fixed on Odysseus in the twentieth year.

First of the crowd godlike Telemachus
Perceived the swineherd coming down the house,
And with a quick nod becked him to his side.
He looked about him, and took up the seat,
Whereon the seneschal would oftest sit
When he divided out the plenteous meats
Amongst the Suitors, and he put it down
Before the table of Telemachus,

And seated him thereon. A herald soon
Brought.and beside him put a mess of meat,
And from a basket raised and gave him bread.

No long while after him Odysseus came,
In semblance still the agéd beggar, wrapt
In filthy clouts, and hobbling on his staff.
On the ashen threshold-step within the door
He sate, reclined against the cypress post,
Once by a cunning woodman fell’d and smoothed,
Polished, and straightened to a line exact.
The Prince then called the Swineherd close, and took
From out a fine-woven basket bread with meats,
As much as his two hands could keep, and said:

“Bear to the Stranger and bestow this food.
But bid him rise thereafter, and go round
Importuning the Suitors: bashful Shame
Is no companion for a needy man.”

He spoke ; the swineherd hearing his command
Went and approached Odysseus with these words:

“ Stranger, Telemachus bestows this food,

But bids thee rise thereafter, and go round
Importuning the Suitors; bashful Shame
Is no companion for thy need, he saith”’.

To whom deep-wiled Odysseus answered thus:
“‘Hearken my prayer, O Zeus, enthroned on high!
Amongst all men Telemachus be blest,

18
BOOK XVII.
355—384.

274 BEGS DOWN THE HALL

May he have all things that his heart desires!”
He spoke; and took betwixt two hands the food

And on the unseemly wallet at his feet

Placed and so ate it. When he thus began,

The bard divine was singing in the hall;

When he had supped his fill, the bard had ceased,

And loudly from the Suitors rose applause.

Anon Athene near Laertes’ son

Approaching urged him forward to collect

Alms down the line of Suitors, so to learn

Who were the lawless, who the weil-disposed ;

Yet meant not, even so, to a single soul

To grant exemption from the coming doom.

Therefore he rose and from the right hand down

Begged of each man, with hand outstretched to all,

As though by customed favour he were there.

And they, though marvelling at his presence, gave

Somewhat for pity, and each of other made

Inquiry whence he came and who he was.

To whom Melanthius soon, the goatherd, said:
“O noble Wooers of our famous Queen!

Hear me about this stranger, since by chance

I have seen him once before. The swineherd then

Was leading him hither. Of himself I know

Nothing, nor of what race he boasts to be.”
Antinous then rebuked the swineherd thus :

“ O too well known already, Swineherd, say,

Why hast thou brought this wretch into the town ?

Have we not quite enough of outcasts here

And scurvy beggars, to infect our feast ?

Or reckst thou lightly of the cost, though these

Foregather’d eat thy master’s substance up,

That thou shouldst bring another to the house ?”
Eumezus, thou, the swineherd, madest reply :

“Antinotis! For all thy noble birth,

Me thou upbraidst unfairly. Who would go

Out of his path to summon a stranger—save

He were indeed of those, whose office lies

In public use—a soothsayer, or a leech

To heal diseases, or a smith of spears,
ANTINOUS ABUSING EUM4US 275

Or some divinely kindled bard, whose song BOOK XVII.
Delights us? These are they whom men invite 385—416.
And welcome through the wide world’s length and breadth.
But who would call a beggar in, to prey
Upon himself? ’Tis but thy usual wont,
On all Odysseus’ servitors to bear
Exceeding hardly, most of all on me.
But for my part I reck not, whilst I know
Penelope and brave Telemachus
Yet living in the house, to bear me through.”
To whom Telemachus replied and said:
“Rest silent, neither bandy idle words.
Antinous’ evil tongue is ever prompt
To quarrel, or to incite the rest thereto.”
Then turning to Antinoiis he said :
‘Tis well approved ; thou feelst for me indeed,
Antinous, like a father for a son,
Bidding me by peremptory command
Expel a hapless stranger from my gates!
Nay, God forbid that this should come to pass.
Take what may please ye and bestow it on him,
I grudge it not, but urge you to such alms.
Herein, I pray thee, hold in no respect
My mother, or Odysseus’ household-needs.
But no such thought is in thee ; thou deniest
To others, what thyself wouldst fain consume.”
To whom Antinous then replied, and said:
“Hail, Prince, and braggart! Fount of fire unquenched!
If every Suitor gave what I would give,
This house should keep him three full months outside.”
He spoke, and pushing from beneath the board
Disclosed the footstool lying, whereupon
In revel he reclined his sleek-oil’d feet.
But, nothing loth, the others gave, and filled
With meat and bread the wallet. And perchance
Odysseus to the threshold had returned
To taste their bounty, but he first approached
Close to Antinous and addressed him thus:
“Give also thou, not meanest I should deem
Of all the Achaian Chieftains, rather say,
The noblest here ; thou seemest like a king!
BOOK XVII.
417—448.

276 INSULTS AND STRIKES THE HERO

Behoves thee therefore even a greater gift

Of bread than from the others; and thy fame

1 will bruit wide across the boundless earth.

For I too amongst men once dwelt thrice-blest,

In a rich house, and ofttimes alms bestowed

On many a vagrant, of whatever sort

Or for whatever need they chanced to come.

And I had slaves in hundreds round me—all

That makes life good, and gives the name of wealth.
But Zeus great Kronos’ Son bereft me all

‘(Such haply was His will) and urged me forth

To sail for Egypt with a roving crew,

A voyage long, that I might be undone.

In the smooth river of Egypt, near its mouth

I stayed my well-trimmed galleys, and I bade

My much-loved crews remain on board, to guard

The vessels, whilst I pushed forth scouts, to spy

The cattle near; but tempted by their pride,

Obedient to a temper overbold,

They dared to plunder the rich-cultured fields

Of Egypt, and to carry off the wives

And infant children, slaying all the men,

So that the cry went up and reached the town.

Hearing that outcry with the rise of dawn

The people came, and all the plain was choked

With horses and footmen and the gleam of arms.

But Father Zeus in all my company cast

An evil spirit of panic, so that none

Durst stand against the Egyptians, hand to hand,

But ill encompass’d us, and many they slew

With their sharp swords, and carried others off

To labour at their works in gangs constrained.

But me they gave to one who crossed them, bound

For Cyprus, where he ruled with mickle might,

Demetor, son of Jasus, for a slave ;

And thence, much-suffering, I have hither come.”
To whom Antinous thus replied, and said:

‘“What God hath brought this pest upon us, this

Foul curse upon our banquet? Hence avaunt,

Stand out, and from my table well away,

Else shalt thou abye it bitterly, and find
BEFORE THE EYES 277

An Egypt or a second Cyprus here! BOOK XVII.
A brazen-faced, intolerable knave, 449—480.
Down the whole line, dunning us, one and all!

And at their ease these Chieftains give, and feel

No pity or scruple in wasting what belongs

To others, and lies ready to their hands.”

To whom deep-wiled Odysseus answered thus:
‘““Now shame upon thee! To thine outward mien
Thy mind accords but ill. Not ev’n to one
Who begged by custom’d usage at thy board,
Wouldst thou from thine own substance spare his salt,
If now, when feasting at another’s cost,

Thou hast not charity to take and throw
A piece of bread, though plenty is at hand.”

He ended, but Antinous wax’d in wrath
The more, and with stern frown replied, and said:

“Ah! Since thou addest insult to thy plaints,
Methinks no longer with good grace unhurt
Thou'lt make thy passage through the hall outside.”

Speaking, he seized the stool, and throwing struck
On the right shoulder where it joins the spine.
But rooted like a rock Odysseus stood,
Nor for the missile tottered at all, and shook
His head in silence, brooding dire revenge ;
Thence moving to the threshold back, sate down
Placing the well-filled wallet on the floor,
Yet spoke amongst the Suitors wingéd words :

“ No inner grief is felt, nor rankling grudge,
If so be that a man is hardly struck
When battling for his own possessions, herds
Of oxen, or fat flocks of white-fleeced sheep ;
But for my belly’s hungry cravings’ sake
(Cravings accursed, oft bringing woe to man)
Antinoiis hath struck me. If there be
Gods of the poor, avengers of their wrongs,
May death, not marriage, end his sojourn here!”’

Eupeithes’ son, Antinous, made reply:

“ Stranger, rest quiet, and eat, or go elsewhere;
Lest for thy manner of speech the younger men
Hale thee by foot or arm the palace through,
Scoring thy skin all over, as they run”’.
BOOK XVII.
481—509.

278 OF THE PRINCE AND THE QUEEN

He ended ; but the others all for shame
Exceedingly grew wroth, and murmurs rose
Even in that haughty troop, as one would say:

“°Twas no fair blow, Antinous, that thou struckst
This wretched vagrant. O accursed, undone—
Were he by outmost chance some God from heaven!
For Gods, we know, as human strangers guised,
Taking what manner of shape they will, have oft
Ranged through our cities, to behold and mark
The piety, or arrogance, of men.”

They spoke; but he regarded not their word.

But in his inmost heart Telemachus
Nursed hidden sorrow, as he saw the blow,
Yet shed not therefore from his eyelids down
A single tear, but only shook his head
In silence, brooding deeply dire revenge.

And when the noble Queen Penelope
Caught from the hall the blow’s deep thud, she spoke
Amongst her handmaids wingéd words, and said:
“‘May bow-renown’d Apollo so strike him !”’
Euryclea, the matron, answer’d thus:
“ Would that fulfilment to our curses came!
Not one of them should see to-morrow’s dawn.”
To whom the noble Queen in answer said :
“ Yea, dame, they all are hateful; for they all
Plot evil alike; but most Antinots
Seems to me like black Death. This stranger came
Astray within the palace, seeking alms,
As lack of victual prompted him to beg.
All others gave and filled his wallet full ;
But this man (as I saw it) with a stool
On the right shoulder struck him near the spine.”
Whilst sitting in a chamber off the hall
The Queen was with her handmaids speaking thus,
Divine Odysseus took his meal apart.

Anon she called the swineherd to her, and said:
‘Go to the stranger, good Eumzeus, go
And order him to come, that I may make
PENELOPE SENDS THE SWINEHERD 279

Acquaintance with him and inquire, if aught BOOK XVII.
Of steadfast-soul’d Odysseus he hath heard 510—540.
Or seen with his own eyes. He seems in truth
A man of many wanderings, far and wide.”

Eumezus, thou, the swineherd, madest reply: .
“‘T would, O Queen, these Chiefs were hushed awhile.
The tales he tells would charm thy inmost heart.
Three nights I held him and three days detained
Inside my hut, for me he first besought
Escaping from some galley; in that while
He told not the full story of his woes.
As our eyes fasten on a sapient bard,
Who from the Gods deriving chaunts his lay,
Falling melodiously on mortal ears,
So that whate’er he sings we ever more
Desire to hear him; thus he charmed my heart,
Sitting beside me in the hut; and saith
He by hereditary friendship claims
Alliance with Odysseus, being of Crete
Where Minos’ generation dwells renowned.
Thence hither, suffering much in suppliant wise,
He came, and solemnly affirms, he heard,
Not far, but in the rich Thesprotian land,
Good tidings of Odysseus, still alive
And bringing countless treasures to his home.”

To whom the noble Queen Penelope:
“ Haste therefore, call him to my presence here.
And let these hold their revel as they list,
Either before the palace-gates, or still
Inside the house—light-hearted, with good cause,
Since in their homes unminish’d plenty lies,
Corn and sweet must, for their retainers’ use
Now left, whilst they, invading our demesne,
Slaughtering our sheep and oxen day by day,
In revel and riot and with thriftless waste
Drink our bright wines: and much is now consumed ;
For no man like Odysseus now is nigh
To save the household from this dreadful curse.
Ah, might he come and see his land once more,
Heavy the compensation he would take
For men’s foul outrages against his son.”
BOOK XVII.
541—572.

280 TO CALL THE SEEMING MENDICANT

Even as She ceased, it chanced Telemachus
Suffer’d a sneezing fit, that through the hall
Rang; and she broke into sudden laughter; and

turned
Quick to Eumzeus with these wingéd words:
“ Haste, I entreat thee, bring me, face to face,
This stranger here. Didst thou not hear my son?
That fit came ratifying all my words.
Death therefore on the Suitors soon shall fall,
To the last tittle of their doom fulfilled ;
Not a single soul amongst them shall escape !
But one thing more; remember it in thy mind.
If I perceive him telling all things true,
A full change of fair raiment I will give.”

She spoke; the swineherd hearing her command
Went, and beside the stranger standing spoke:

“My honoured guest! The Queen Penelope,
The noble mother of Telemachus,
Calls thee; the heart within her bids inquire
About her husband, though in grief’s despite.
If she perceives thee telling all things true,
The cloak and tunic she bestows whereof
Thou art in pressing need. Bread thou wilt get
By begging in the streets to satisfy
Thy hunger; this, whoever lists, can give.”

To whom the long-enduring Hero said:
“ Eumeus, to the child of Icarus
The noble-minded Queen Penelope
I would without delay tell all things true.
For much I know concerning him; we both
Have undergone like sorrows. But I fear
The hard hands of this violent Suitors’ throng,
Whose pride and outrage strike the iron sky.
Ev’n now, when this man smote me (as I moved
Having done no harm to any through the hall),
And thrilled my body through with smarting pain,
Neither the others nor Telemachus
Prevented him at alf. Rather advise
Penelope, for all her haste, to wait
Till after sunset in the hall, and then
Inquire about her husband’s dear return
When she hath brought me closer to the fire.
HE PUTS HER OFF TILL NIGHT 281

For these my rags are miserable and thin; BOOK XVII.
This thou knowest well, since thee I first besought.”’ 573—606.
He spoke; the swineherd hearing his reply
Went; and the Queen addressed him, as he stept
Across the chamber’s threshold off the hall:
“Thou bringest him not, Eumzus, back with thee.
What is this vagrant’s reason? Idle fear
Of some one? Or what other cause to rest
Abashed? A bashful beggar fares but ill.’’
Eumeus, thou, the swineherd, madest reply:
“ He speaks right well, and as another would,
Who shunn’d the violent hands of arrogant men,
And bids thee tarry till the sun hath set.
This too for thee is better,O my Queen,
To have thy commune with him quite alone.”
To whom the noble-soul’d Penelope:
“ Prudent this stranger, be he who he may.
No other nien alive of mortal birth
Work evil with such arrogance as these.”
Ev’n as she spoke the swineherd pass’d away
Toward the Suitors, all his message done.

Leaning his head across Telemachus
So that none else should hear him, he began:
“Dear youth, I now depart to watch the swine
And all things yonder, thy and my estate ;
Attend thou well to thy possessions here ;
But most of all protect thyself; keep watch
With care most thoughtful, lest thou suffer hurt.
Full many of these Achaians mean thee ill;
May Zeus destroy them, ere they work us woe!”
And sage Telemachus in answer said:
“So be it, my good Friend: depart content,
But after supper; and with dawn return
Bringing fair victims for our sacrifice.
To me, and to the Immortals leave all here.”
He spoke; the other on the polish’d chair
Took seat again, and satisfied his soul
With drink and food; thereafter for his swine
Departing, left the high-fenced palace, where
With dance and song delightful all partook
Of revel; for the evening hours had pass’d.
BOOK XVIII.
1—26.

282 IRUS ANOTHER BEGGAR

ODYSSEY XVIII.

A mendicant and native to the place
Who begged along the streets of Ithaca
Now forward came; a man of much renown
For an abateless swallow, large of bulk,
But empty of true strength and sinewy force ;
Named by a loving mother at his birth
Arnzus, but by all the younger folk
Irus, because he bare the messages
Of whosoever bade him through the town.
Out of his own house he would fain have driven
Odysseus, whom enraging he addressed :
“Yield from this porch, old man, lest by the foot
I quickly drag thee hence. Perceivest thou not
How men are winking at me, egging me on
To do it? Shame alone deters me still.
Rise then, lest else our quarrel come to blows.”
Whom sage Odysseus sternly eyeing, said:
«“ Good Friend, I neither do nor speak thee ill,
Nor grudge thee any alms, however large.
This porch will hold us both. What claim hast thou
To grudge me what is not thine own to give?
I deem thee but a vagrant like myself;
And Gods seem likely to vouchsafe us luck.
But be not over-prompt with challenges,
Neither lay hands upon me, lest in wrath,
Old though I be, I stain thee, body and mouth,
In thine own blood. And I should win thereby
The greater ease to-morrow ; thou wouldst make
No second venture to Odysseus’ halls.”
Angered the vagrant Irus gave reply:
“Gods! How this soot-smirch’d rascal’s tongue runs on
Like an old beldam’s at a furnace-hole!
THREATENS TO OUST ODYSSEUS 283

But damage I will do him, striking out BOOK XVIII.
With either fist and scattering on the ground 27—61.
All his teeth broken, as a man snaps off

The white teeth of a crop-destroying sow.

Gird up thy loins then, that all here may know

A match betwixt us made ; yet how canst thou

Be fairly matched against a younger man?”

Thus at the smooth-trod threshold-stone, in front
Of the high gates, they roughly squabbling brawled.
Antinous in his vigour marked them first
And laughing loudly ’mid the Suitors said:

“A piece of fortune, Friends, not shown before!
What sport the Gods have sent us in the house!

A quarrel rises and a match to fight
’*Twixt Irus and the stranger; let us haste
To pitch the two together for a main.”

He ended; laughing all they sprang upright
And round the ill-garb’d beggars in a ring
Foregathered, whilst Antinotis spoke on:

“Hear me, most noble Wooers, what I say.

See the goats’ paunches lying at the fire
Which we have set against our evening meal
Stuff'd with black haggis of fat cauls and blood.
Whichever of these two victorious shows

The better man, shall rise and take of these
For his own mess the one that he prefers ;

And he shall eat with us whene’er he lists ;

No other shall be let inside to beg.”

Antinous ended and his word pleased all;
Whom sage Odysseus then with guile addressed :

“ My Friends, an agéd man foredone with toil
Against a younger cannot well be matched.

My belly’s evil cravings urge me on
To an ill drubbing: therefore swear ye all
By a great oath that none will strike at me
In Irus’ favour with a heavy hand
Wantonly, or for his sake hold me down.”

He spoke; and to his bidding they abjured
All favour. After utterance of the oath
Youthful Telemachus addressed him thus :

“Since, Stranger, thy stout heart and daring mind
BOOK XVIII.
62—94.

284 THEY STRIP AND FIGHT

Prompt thee to make this effort, have no fear

Of these Achaians round thee; whosoe’er

Struck thee, would fight himself with adverse odds.

Thy host, I speak; and both these Chieftains sage,

Eurymachus and Antinous, back my words.”
He ceased ’mid acclamation, while renowned

Odysseus girt his rags up round his loins,

Large shapely thighs discovering, shoulders broad,

Deep chest, and sinewy arms; Athene stood

Beside him, adding grandeur to his limbs.

The Suitors in exceeding wonder saw,

And each in other’s eyes would look, and say:
“Trus will be dis-irus’d, and will bring

On his own head a downfall; out of rags

What glorious muscle that old man displays!’’
They spoke, and Irus’ heart was dire-perturb’d.

Howbeit the house-retainers by mere force

Girded and brought him forward, in such fear

That the flesh quiver’d on his limbs: whereat

Antinous taunted him by name, and said:
‘Neither now living, no, nor never born,

Gross braggart, shouldst thou be, if shaking thus

In utter terror at a man like this,

Old and down-broken with long woes endured.

One thing I warn thee which shall come to pass.

If he the better man defeats thee now,

On a black galley to the mainland hence

I will transport thee to King Echetus,

The fierce tormentor of all human kind,

Pitiless he will crop thy nose and ears,

Tear thee piecemeal, and throw thee raw to dogs.”’
He spoke ; the other only shook the more.

Into the ring they brought him, and the two
Raised their clench’d fists. But, doubting in his mind
The noble long-enduring Hero paused,
Should he so strike him as to take away
Life in the fall, or plant a milder blow
Such as would lay him prostrate on the ground ?
To whom thus doubting this the better seemed
To strike him mildly, lest the Achaians else

,
ODYSSEUS CONQUERS AND GIVES — 285

Suspect a Hero. Therefore, when they closed, BOOK XVIII.
At the right shoulder Irus drave a blow, 95—127.
But at the neck the other ’neath the ear,

Breaking the bones about the jaw, and blood

Gush’d from his mouth, as in the dust he dropt

Moaning, with clattering teeth, and kicked the ground.

The high-born Suitors, dying for laughter, waved

Their arms aloft, the while Odysseus caught

The foot of Irus, dragging him from the porch

Right through the court-yard to the corridor’s gate

And propped against the outer fence his back,

Seating him, and sticking in his hands his staff,

And so addressed him wingéd words, and said:

“There sit, and thence expel the swine and dogs!
Seek not again o’er strangers and the poor
To lord it, ignominious as thou art;

Lest haply some worse evil upon thee fall.”

He spoke, and round his shoulders flung anew
The unseemly wallet, patches all and holes,

Slung by a strap, and to his seat returned
At the smooth threshold-step. And as all passed
Inside, with pleasant laugh they hailed him thus:
“May Zeus and other Gods bestow on thee,
Whatever, Stranger, is thy heart’s desire,

Since yon insatiate beggar thou hast stayed
From roving through the city: overseas
We will transport him to King Echetus,
The fierce tormentor of all human kind”.

They spoke; divine Odysseus heard with joy
Their wish well-omen’d. Then Antinous placed
Before him the great paunch with pudding stuffed
Of cauls and blood, the while Amphinomus
Out from a basket took and at his side
Put bread, and pledged him with a golden cup:

“T hail thee, reverend guest, and hope thee luck
In future time, who now art much depress’d!”’

To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:

«‘ Amphinomus, I deem thee wise and true,
Being son of such a father: the repute

Of Nisus of Dulichium oft would reach
Mine ears, as great by virtue and by wealth.
BOOK XVIII.
128—159.

286 VAIN WARNING TO AMPHINOMUS

Therefore I speak; and hearken, and in thy mind
Ponder my words. Of all that breathes and moves,
Earth nurseth nothing more infirm than man:
While Gods vouchsafe him energy, and while
His limbs are light beneath him, to himself
He saith, that he will never know distress;
But when they bring adversity to pass
Sorely he bears it with a sullen heart.
So shifts the mind .of mortals in this world
According to the sunshine or the cloud
Brought by the Father of both Gods and men.
Thus IJ too once seemed likely to be blest
*Mongst men, but, yielding to my own strong will
And trustful of my father and my kin,
In wantonness of heart work’d many wrongs.
Let no man therefore think to rise beyond
All law, but let him in hush’d silence hold
Such gifts as it may please the Gods to give.
What manner of things I see—these Wooers proud,
Contriving malice, squandering others’ wealth,
Doing dishonour to the wife of one
Who, I foretell, will not be absent long
From his dear country, but is nigh at hand
Already! Thee may some propitious Power
Withdraw safe homeward! Neither stay to face
His reappearance in his native land.
Not bloodless will the fierce leave-taking be
Betwixt him and the Suitors, when they meet!”

He spoke, and, after due libation, drank
The honey-tasted wine, and put the cup
Into the warlike Chieftain’s hands again ;
Who through the palace, much perplex’d at heart,
Pass’d, and oft shook his head, foreboding ill,
Yet not, for all that warning, fled his fate:
Ev’n him Athene fetter’d in the house
To perish by the javelin and the might
Of Prince Telemachus; and on the throne,
Whence he had risen, he now returning sate.

Meantime bright-eyed Athene in the thought
Of the deep-minded Queen Penelope,
PENELOPE BEAUTIFIED BY ATHENE 287

Icarius’ daughter, kindled new desire BOOK XVIII.

To show before the Suitors, so to swell 160—190.

Their hearts with windy hope, and make herself

A prize of value higher than even before

For her dear husband and her son to hold;

Therefore, with strange unmeaning laugh, she spake:
“ Por the first time, Eurynomé, my heart

Bids me before the Suitors go in state,

All loathéd though they be; for to my son

I would address a word of warning, not

To yield himself so wholly to their proud

Companionship ; although they speak him soft,

They nurse an evil wish behind their words ”.
Eurynomé the matron answered thus:

“Thy words, my child, are well and wisely said.

Go therefore, tell him this, concealing nought.

But cleanse thy face first, and anoint thy cheeks ;

Neither with countenance all soil’d with tears

Go forth ; such endless grieving evermore

Were graceless now: for, lo, thy son is grown

To his full stature, bearded, such as once

Thou pray’dst Immortals thou might live to see.’’
To whom high-soul’d Penelope replied:

“ Eurynome, for all thy loving care,

Divert me not to cleansing of my face

Nor to anointing of my cheeks with oil.

The Gods who on Olympus have their homes

Destroy’d for me my beauty on the day

When he aboard his galleys sailed for Troy.

But call Hippodameia, and with her

Autonoé, that in the open hall

They may take station at my side; alone

Amongst the men I were ashamed to go.”
She ended; and the matron old passed out

To tell the women and to haste them forth.

Then to bright-eyed Athene came the thought
Of yet one other service to the Queen.
She showered a gentle cloud across her eyes
So that she slumbered where she sate, and all
Her limbs lay quite relaxed along the couch.
BOOK XVIII.
191—220.

288 VISITS THE HALL

And while she slept the mighty Goddess shed
Immortal gifts upon her, so to daze

The Achaian chiefs with wonder, and made pure
Her features, in such heavenly beauty steeped

-As that wherein crown’d Cytherea steeps

Her delicate limbs when issuing forth to join
Her Graces in their passion-stirring dance.
Taller and more majestic grew her frame,
And whiter than sawn ivory her skin.
Thereafter the great Goddess passed away..

Anon the white-arm’d handmaids from the hall
Came trooping in, loud-tongued, and at the sound
Sweet slumber loosed its hold. She drew her hands
Across her flushing face, and, startled, said :

“Verily, ’mid my sorrows, deep and soft
This sleep that lapt me round. And oh that Death
As softly from chaste Artemis might fall
Upon me at this moment! So no more
In anguish should I pine my soul away,

Yearning for him, my husband, who excell’d
Achaians, in all manner of manhood first!”

She spoke, and from the smooth-built upper rooms
Descended, not unfollowed, for the two
Attendants with her went. And, when she neared
The Suitors, at a column of the roof
Standing she paused, the flower of women, and drew
Her glistening head-dress down her face, the while
A gentle maiden stood on either side ;

And for her beauty every Wooer felt

The knees beneath him give; with love their hearts
Were charmed, and each desired her for his wife.
But she addressed Telemachus apart :

“No longer stable in thy mind thou showst,
My son beloved! Whilst still a boy, thou hadst
A better hold on counsel shrewd and wise ;

But now, tall-grown, and in thy manhood’s bloom
(So that a passing stranger, as he saw

Thy beauty and lofty stature, well might say
Thou wert the offspring of a prosperous man)—
Thy faculty of thought seems dead within.
REPROACHES HER SON 289

What manner of deed is this, suffer’d by thee, BOOK XVIII.
A stranger ill-entreated in our house! 221—251,
How would it be if, seated at our hearth,
He of such grievous mauling came to harm?
Hurt and disgrace on thee would surely fall.”

To whom the sage young Prince in answer said:
“No grudge, my mother, may I feel at heart
For this thine indignation at that deed.
But I too ponder in my mind and know
What tends to honour, what to worse repute ;
In earlier days I was but as a child.
Yet all things every way in prudent wise
I fail to manage, since these Wooers here,
Pressing with diverse counsels at my side
But meaning malice in their hearts, distract
My thoughts, and give me no true aid themselves.
Yet, as concerns the fight betwixt our guest
And Irus, this occurred not through their mean,
And he, the stranger, proved the stronger man.
Yea, by Apollo and our Father Zeus
And great Athene! Would that in our house,
Some in the court, and some within the hall,
So conquered, nodding so their foolish heads,
And each man’s limbs beneath him loosed, now sate
The Suitors all, as yonder Irus sits,
Like a man drunken, at the court-yard’s gates,
With nodding head, unable on his feet
To rise upright or go his homeward way
Returning, for his knees are slack below.”

Such commune held the mother with her son.

Anon Eurymachus addressed her thus:
“ Daughter of Icarus, O high-soul’d Queen,
Penelope! If all Achaian Chiefs
Throughout Iasian Argos might but now
Behold thee, yet more Wooers thou wouldst find
Feasting at dawn to-morrow through thy halls:
So far for beauty and stature thou excell’st
All women, and for equal wit within.”

To whom the noble Queen Penelope:
“All prosperous plight, and beauty, and grace of form

19
BOOK XVIII.
252—281.

290 AND THE SUITORS WHO

The Gods destroyed for me, Eurymachus,
What time the Argives mounted on their barks
For lion, and Odysseus with them went.
If he, returning, on this life of mine
Bestowed his tender care, so only might
New glory from my beauty and stature grow ;
But now I lie in anguish for the ills
Some evil Power hath hounded on my path.
Howbeit, when he was just at point to go
Leaving his country, near the wrist he took
My right hand, saying: ‘ Since I well may deem,
My wife, that of the Achaian mailéd host
All cannot, safe and scathless, come from Troy—
For good at arms the Trojans (so they say),
At cast of javelin, drawing of the bow,
Or charioteering of swift-horséd cars
Which oft perchance may with most speed decide
An equal battle’s issue ;— therefore, |
Know not, if Gods will suffer my return,
Or whether I must perish there in Troy.
But here let all things be thy constant care ;
And of my father and my mother, left
At home forlorn, take kindly thought, as now,
Or yet more closely, I being far away !
When thy son’s beard is grown about his chin,
Then thou mightst marry thee to whom thou wilt,
And so betake thee to another’s house.’
Thus then he spoke—what now is being fulfilled,
The night will come when I shall undergo
(Accurséd though I be, of all estate
Bereft by Gods), the nuptials that I loathe.
And this pain also weighs upon my mind:
True wooers keep not usages like these ;
But those who fain would win a noble wife,
A rich man’s daughter, and for rivalry
Vie with each other, of their own accord
Bring oxen and fat sheep, wherewith to feast
The maiden’s friends, and offer splendid gifts :
Certés, ’tis not their fashion, free of cost
To eat the substance of another up.”’

She spoke ; the long-enduring Hero heard,
CONCILIATE HER WITH GIFTS 291

And much rejoiced that she should thus draw forth BOOK XVIII.
Gifts, and beguile with honied words their minds, 282—310.
Meaning far other things within her heart.

Eupeithes’ son, Antinoiis, replied:
“‘ Daughter of Icarus, O high-soul’d Queen,
Penelope! Accept the gifts we bring;
Such giving ’twere dishonour to deny.
But to our own estates we will not go
Departing, nor else-whither, till thou wed
Whomever of these Chieftains thou preferr’st.”

Antinous ended, and his counsel pleased ;
And each man sent a herald to his house
To bring him presents. To Antinous came
A robe, exceeding beautiful, and large,
Embroider’d all; and of pure gold therein
Twelve brooches stood, with curvéd clasp-pins held:
And quickly to Eurymachus was brought
A necklace, wrought most cunningly, of gold
With amber strung, and radiant like the sun:
Two followers for Eurydamas fetched forth
Ear-rings, fine-wrought, with triple pendants hung;
Their loveliness threw brilliance bright and far :
Next from Pisander’s house, Polyctor’s son,
A band, of wondrous beauty, for the throat :
From all the Suitors thus came diverse gifts.

But she, the flower of women, ascending passed
Into the upper chambers, while the maids
Behind her carried up the precious gifts.

To dance and passion-stirring song again
The others turn’d, and in delight thereof
Waited the fall of eve; and o’er them, thus
Delighting, came the twilight of the eve.
The attendants straightway in the hall set up
Three cressets to give light, and round about
Put sapless billets, seasoned long and sere,
Late-cloven by the hatchet, and with the logs
Mixed shreds of pinewood. Watching these in turn,
The handmaids of strong-souled Odysseus made
BOOK XVIII.
311—347.

292 MELANTHO FRIGHTENED INTO SILENCE

The torches burn, till thus their master spoke:

‘‘ Handmaidens of a King now vanish’d long,
Hence to the chamber of your noble Queen
Departing, sit ye there, and please her heart
Twirling the yarn or carding out the wool.

And I will furnish light to these men here.
Though even till fair-throned morning they would sit,
They will not tire me being so used to toil.”

He spoke; the women each in other’s eyes
Looked, laughing; but Melantho, fair of face,
Heaped vile abuse upon him. She was child
Of Dolius, but the Queen had bred her up,
Petting her like a daughter of the house,

And granting all indulgences she craved ;
Yet not for this was aught of sorrow felt
Within her for her mistress, and she oft
Enamoured with Eurymachus would lie.
She with sharp voice assailed Odysseus now:
“ Thou sorry Stranger! Crack-brained fool, and
lout !
Not to the stithe to go or pantry, there
To pass the night—preferring here to prate !
Has that defeat of Irus turned thy head ?
Yet may a stronger far than Irus rise
Against thee, and, with buffets striking out
On either side thy forehead, drive thee forth,
In thine own blood bedabbled, from this house.”
Whom sternly eyeing, sage Odysseus said:
“« Strumpet, beware lest to Telemachus
Yonder I tell thy words; and he, belike,
Will string thee up and quarter out thy limbs!”’

Thus speaking, he dispersed the women off,
Who hurried through the hall with trembling limbs
In panic, deeming that he meant his words.

But he beside the glowing cressets took
His station toward the Suitors, clearly seen,
Maturing in his mind far other tasks
That soon should be accomplished.

Yet meantime
Athene prompted still their minds misproud
To ev’n more grievous outrage, so to sting
EURYMACHUS CHALLENGED 293

Laertes’ son Odysseus to the heart. BOOK XVIIi.
Eurymachus the son of Polybus 348—378.
Therefore began amongst them speech, and roused
Loud laughter, gibing at Odysseus thus:

“ Hear me, O Wooers of this famous Queen!
What the heart bids within me, that I speak.
Not without happy omen hath this man
Entered Odysseus’ palace ;- for behold
The torchlight glinting off his gleaming pate,

So bald, that not a hair now grows thereon!”

He spoke, and to the mighty Chieftain turned:
“ Wouldst thou consent, O stranger, if I now
Engaged thee to take service, on good pay,

To work along the margin of some field,
Stone-gathering for a wall, or planting trees ?
And I would give thee there abundant food,
And clothe thee, and. put sandals to thy feet.
Nay, with the evil habits thou hast caught,
Thou seekst no work, I warrant, but preferr’st
With dastard cringe along a crowded street
To beg thy never-sated belly full! ”

To whom deep-wiled Odysseus answering said :
“1 would, Eurymachus, a match were made
In early summer, when long days begin,

For field-work in the grass betwixt us twain;
Myself with curvéd sickle in my hands,

And thou with such another ; that we there
Might make fair trial of our husbandry,

With grass abundant, neither tasting food

Till darkness fell. Or if, again, a yoke

Of oxen, in their kind the best, large-grown,
Bright-coated both, well fed with provender,
Crook-horned, and even pullers, beasts of might,
Stood to be driven, and a fallow lay

Before us, good glebe yielding to the plough—
Then, when I drew my furrow clear and straight,
Beholding thou wouldst know me. Or, again,
Were Kronos’ Son to senda cloud of war
To-day from any quarter, if I held

Two javelins and a shield, and wore of brass

A helmet to my temples fitting close—
BOOK XVIII.
379—413.

294 ODYSSEUS AVOIDS HIS BLOW

In that case also thou wouldst see me mix
Among the foremost champions of the van,
And haply at my hunger gibe no more.
But thou art insolent ever, rough and rude ;
A great and mighty man thou only seemst,
Because thou minglest with the mean and small.
And, if Odysseus to his native land
Returning came, yon doors, though broad they be,
Were yet too narrow to allow thy flight.”
He ceased; Eurymachus the more at heart
Wax’d wrathful, frowning sternly, and replied:
“Thou luckless wretch! Some heavy hurt anon
My hands will surely deal thee for such words
Rashly in all men’s hearing uttered now.
Thou dreadest nothing; wine hath drugged thy sense ;
Or is such temper at all times thine own ?
What thou hast said is mere conceit, and vain.”
Speaking he caught a stool up; at the knees
Of the Dulichian Chief, Amphinomus,
Odysseus for his fear of the other stooped ;
On the right arm it struck a cup-bearer,
Bringing his wine-jug crashing on the ground,
As prostrate on the dusty floor he sprawled.
The Suitors murmur’d through the dusky halls
And each in other’s eyes would look, and say:
“T would, before this stranger hither came,
He had first perished in some other place;
So had he never caused such discord here.
Now in behoof of beggars we contend;
And, while such ignominious strife prevails,
No pleasure even in noble cheer is found.”
The Prince then of his youthful vigour said:
“ Madmen, and by some evil Power possessed !
Who keep your gluttonies and drunkenness
Hidden no longer—Heaven so blinds your eyes!
Now go ye homeward after feast to rest,
Soon as ye list; I chase no man away.”
He ceased; they heard, with lips and teeth set close,
In marvel at Telemachus, he spoke
So boldly. But Amphinomus (the son
Of Nisus, King Aretius’ son) then said:
THE SUITORS RETIRE TO REST 295

“ Friends, against speech so justly uttered, none BOOK XVIII.
Opposing may retort an angry word. 414—428,
Neither to King Odysseus’ household-slaves
Nor to this stranger will we offer harm.

Rise therefore; let the cup-bearer take round

Full cups, and, after due libation poured,

Let us depart to slumber; in the halls

Leaving the tendance to Telemachus

(Since his the house that shields him) of this guest.”
He spoke, a word acceptable to all.

The gallant herald of Dulichium,

Mulius, a follower of Amphinomus,

Mingled a bowl, and before each in turn

Dispensed it, standing. To the blesséd Gods

They poured their offerings forth, and drank sweet

draughts
As each man listed of the wine, and so
Departed, in their several homes to rest.
296 THE FATHER AND THE SON

ODYSSEY XIX.

BOOK XIX, Thus left behind, Odysseus in the hall
1—23._ __ Pondered how easiest with Athene’s help
To slay the Suitors. To Telemachus
Soon turning, he address’d these wingéd words:
‘‘Burther inside the house, Telemachus,
To move all warlike weapons lying about
Be now our task; and, if a Chieftain chance
To miss them or make question, put him by
Perhaps with some soft answer such as this:
‘Out of the smoke I took and laid them down.
The arms no more resembled those of old
Left by Odysseus when he sailed for Troy:
All that the breath of fire had reach’d, were soil’d.
Moreover some wise Power inspired in me
This greater fear, lest haply, fili’d with wine,
Por quarrel arisen amongst you in your cups,
Ye fly to arms, and each the other wound,
Your wooings and your feastings brought to shame:
For the mere sight of steel attracts a man.”
He spoke ; the other to his father’s word
Summoned the nurse Euryclea forth, and said:
“ Haste thee, my nurse, and in their chambers shut
The women, as I bid thee. I would move
Into some inner room my father’s arms,
So splendid, yet all now by smoke bedimmed,
Unheeded in his absence. Heretofore
I was but as a child and recked not this ;
Now I would lay them out of reach of fire.”
To whom the loving nurse Euryclea said:
“7 well might wish, my Child, in all things else
Such heedful wisdom thine, to watch the house
And guard thy rich possessions safe from harm,
REMOVE ARMS FROM THE HALL ~— 297

But who can then attend thee for this task BOOK XIX.
Holding the lamp, when thou forbidst the maids 24—55.
(Who else might well have lit thee) entrance here?”
To whom the sage young Prince replied, and said:
“This stranger; for I will not suffer a man,
Who draws his rations from my stores, to stand
Idling, however long his journey hath been”.
He spoke ; reply hung wingless on her lips,
And in the women’s doors she drew the bolts.

Then straight upsprang the two—Odysseus with
His glorious son—and, working to and fro,
Conveyed the thick-bossed bucklers and all helms
And javelins well inside: and with them moved
Pallas Athene, golden lamp in hand,

Unseen, yet made a brilliant light all round ;
Whereat the son addressed the father thus:

“Great is this marvel, Father, that we see.

The walls, each fair recess, the roof-tree beams,
The columns springing upward—all appear
Glowing around us, as of flaming fire:

Within the precinct walks some heavenly God!”

And sage Odysseus answering thus replied:

“« Silence ; from curious question curb thy tongue.
This is the manner of immortal Gods.

Betake thee to thy rest; but I remain

Here to provoke sharp question of the maids,
And of thy mother ; She, amid her tears,

Will fondly question me of all my haps.”

He ended; and Telemachus away
With torches by the women brought again
Pass’d to the chamber through the hall, where oft,
When slumber came upon him, he would lie ;

And there, till gold-throned Dawn should come, lay down
While in the hall divine Odysseus still
Pondered how easiest with Athene’s help
To slay the Suitors.
Soon the great-souled Queen
Moved from her chamber, seeming Artemis
Or golden Aphrodite, as she came.
By the fire-side they placed her wonted chair,
BOOK XIX,
56—87.

298 MELANTHO AGAIN SILENCED

With ivory and silvern rings bedecked
Wrought by a cunning craftsman of old time
Ikmalius, who had added for the feet
A rest that branched from out the chair, whereon
A fleece was now bestrewn. Penelope
So took her seat, while trooping from their room
The white-armed handmaids quick ’gan move aside
The tables, and spilt bread, and goblets, whence
Men in their haughty mood had drunken free,
And from the braziers scattered on the ground
The burnt-up ash, and heaped instead fresh logs
To give them light and warmth. Melantho then
A second time would bait Odysseus thus:
“Still here, O Stranger! Wilt thou all night long
Roam through the palace, eyeing wantonly
The women, wearing out thy legs in vain?
Hence, Wretch! And out of doors digest your meal,
Lest with a stick expelled you soon depart.”
Whom sternly eyeing, sage Odysseus said:
“Good woman, why assail me with such heat ?
Is it that I am travel-stained with mud
And wear poor clothes about my body, and beg?
Sore need compels me to it. Asam I,
Such are all beggars and wanderers through the world.
Yet I too amongst men once dwelt thrice-blest
In a rich house, and ofttimes alms bestowed
On many a vagrant, of whatever sort
Or for whatever need they chanced to come.
And I had slaves in hundreds round me—all e
That makes life good, and gives the name of wealth.
But Zeus of his high will bereft me all.
Beware then also thou, lest soon be lost,
O woman, all that comeliness, wherewith
Thou now beyond these others art bedecked,
Lest haply too thy mistress be provoked
Against thee, or Odysseus reappear
(Good room for hope remains) ; and even albeit
Himself may far have perished, and return
May never be—yet, lo, Telemachus
Already by Apollo’s grace grown up
Nor longer of the childlike age to pass,
BY PENELOPE 299

Unnoticed, wanton women in his house!” BOOK XIX.
He ceased; whose words the noble-minded Queen 88—120.
Heard, and rebuked the handmaid, saying thus:
“ Be certain, shameless Wanton overbold !
I note thy monstrous daring, such offence
As with thy life thou scarce wilt wipe away!
Full well thou knowst and heardst it from my lips
That I would of this stranger soon inquire
In this same hall about my husband’s fate,
For whom my anxious sorrow weighs me down.”
She spoke, and to the matron turning said:
“ Bring hither a seat, Eurynome, and throw
A fleece thereon, that, sitting, he may tell
His tale, and hear me what I fain would ask ”’.
She spoke; the matron quickly brought and placed
A burnished chair and threw a fleece thereon.
And so beside Penelope at last
Noble strong-souled Odysseus took his seat.

Of whom the sage fair Queen began address :
“ Stranger, for of my own free will I first
Will question thee, inform me who thou art,
And what thy country and thy parentage ?”

To whom Odysseus answered of his guile:
“Lady, no man, the wide world over, knows
A fault to chide thee for, whose glory mounts
Ev’n to the sky, as ‘twere some blameless King’s,
Who reigning over many and mighty men
Upholdeth justice, and beneath him Earth
Brings wheat and barley of her black womb forth
And trees with fruit deep-laden, while the sheep
Drop strong their lambs, and all the people thrive
Under his righteous dealing. Freely then
Make thine inquiries of all other things,
But of my country or my birth—of these
Inquire not, lest thou over-brim my heart
With grief at their remembrance. Vast indeed
My sorrows; yet unseemly it were to crouch
Mourning and moaning in an alien house
Vainly ; such endless grieving evermore
Were unto me dishonour. Yea, I fear
300 WHO TELLING HER OWN STORY

Book xix. That these thy handmaids and ev’n thou thyself

121-152. Would wax indignant therefore, and might say,
Such floods of tears but proved me drunk with wine.’

To whom the noble Queen Penelope:

“« All prosperous plight, all beauty, and grace of form,
The Gods, O Stranger, then for me destroyed
What time the Argives mounted on their barks
For Ilion, and Odysseus with them went.
If he, returning, on this life of mine
Bestowed his tender care, so only might
New glory of my beauty and stature grow.
But now I live in anguish for the ills
Some evil Power hath hounded on my path;
Since all who reign the noblest in these isles,
Samé, Dulichium, and Zacynthus’ woods,
And those who dwell in far-seen Ithaca,
Woo me, however loth, and waste our house.
Wherefore I give regard no longer now
To strangers or to suppliants or to those
Who come as public heralds from afar,
But for fond yearning melt away in tears.
And while they urge me marriage, I oppose
What wiles I may against them. At the first
Some Power inspired within my heart this plan:
I set a great web stretched along the hall,
Smooth and exceeding large, and suddenly
I said amongst them: ‘Ye who woo me thus,
Seeing that divine Odysseus is no more,
Refrain from pressing on your courtship, till
I shall have made complete this woven cloth
(So that my labour may not be in vain),
A shroud to swathe Laertes when fell Fate
Takes him away by melancholy death;
Lest else the Achaian women cry me shame
Amongst the townsfolk, that despite his wealth
They see him lying shroudless’. So I spake;
And their high temper yielded to my word.
Then every day upon that web I wove
What I unwove by torchlight in the night,
And three years long so guiled the Achaian Chiefs.
But when the seasons in their order came,
ASKS THE HERO FOR HIS 301

And moons had waned, and days were perfected BOOK XIX,
To the fourth year, by some vile-woman’s mean 153—184.
Who loved me not, they caught me in the act
And for their violent threats by sore constraint
I made the work complete. No more remains
Escape from wedlock or delay at all;
My father and my mother urge it on;
And my child too, impatient of these men
Eating his substance, knows the cause thereof;
Being now full-grown and able to maintain
A household; such a youth Zeus crowns with fame.
Speak freely therefore; let me know thy race ;
Thou art not of primzeval oak or stone.”

To whom Odysseus answered of his guile:
*O wife most noble of Laertes’ Son!
Wilt thou not drop this question of my birth ?
I needs must speak, though thus thou givest me up
To evn more sorrows than possess me now.
This is the natural feeling in a man
Absent from his own country so long while
As I have been, through many cities of men
Vagrant, in ceaseless suffering. Not for this
May I refuse to tell thee what thou askst.

“Out in the purpling sea there lies a land
Fertile and fair, with billows washed all round;
Numerous and countless are its habitants,
Fourscore and ten its cities; and their tongues
Are mingled, varying through the spacious isle.
Achaians there inhabit; and with these
Men of the Cretan stock original,

A mighty-hearted race; Pelasgians too,

With three-tribed Dorians, and Cydonians near,
Amongst their cities Knossus stands the first ;
Where he, who in sweet counsel lived with Zeus,
Minos, my grandsire, reigned for full nine years,
And there begat Deucalion, who begat

Two sons, the King Idomeneus, and me.

With the Atreidz went Idomeneus

Aboard the long-beak’d galleys bound for Troy,
The elder, and better warrior; I remain’d,
BOOK XIX.
185—216,

302 HE INVENTS A FICTITIOUS

The younger, Ethon my renownéd name.
And there I saw Odysseus, in my home
Giving him hospitalities, what time
The force of tempest, as he bore for Troy,
Beating him off Maleia from his course,
Brought him to Crete, and at Amnisus, nigh
To Bilythuia’s cave (rough harbourage)
He scarcely saved his ship and ’scaped the storm.
Straight to our city mounting, he inquired
About his friend (he said) Idomeneus,
As bounden to him by an ancient tie:
But ten or haply eleven days before
Idomeneus had sailed for Ilion’s coast.
I therefore entertained him as my guest
With a warm welcome, from abundant stores,
And also for him and his followers fetched
Wine and provision levied from the town,
And oxen for his offerings to the Gods,
To satisfy all wants. So twelve days long
The brave Achaians there abode with me;
Por Boreas ever blew a mighty blast
Which shut them in, nor suffered even to haul
Their galley up to moorings on the shore;
Some hostile Power so ruled it; till, at last,
The thirteenth day the wind fell, and they sailed.”
He spoke, thus feigning falsehood like to truth.
And, as she heard, her tears ran, and her face
Melted, as on a mountain’s peak melts snow,
When Eurus thaws it, Zephyr showering it down,
And all the running rivers wax therewith ;
So her fair cheeks streamed melting with her tears,
Mourning the man then sitting at her side.
And he in pity for his weeping wife
Set hard his eyeballs in their orbits fix’d,
Like iron or horn, unquivering, since for guile
He still would hide his passion. When at length
Her soul was sated of that deep lament,
Replying she addressed him thus anew:
‘“Now I would test thee, friendly as thou seemst,
O Stranger, if in very deed thou heldst
My husband with his godlike comrades guests
INTERVIEW WITH ODYSSEUS 303

There in thy house and even as thou hast said. BOOK XIX,

So tell me in what garments clad he came, 217—247.

And what the manner of man he was himself,

And name the comrades following in his steps.”
To whom deep-wiled Odysseus made reply :

“Hard task, O Lady, to depict him now

After so long a separation—yea,

This is the twentieth year that lapses by,

Since he departed thence and left my land.

Yet as I still imagine him in my mind

So I describe him. Brave Odysseus wore

A woollen mantle, purple, in two folds ;

Past with two sockets was the brooch thereof,

Pure gold, and on its face a cunning work ;

A dog between its forepaws holding down

A dappled fawn that panted in its grip:

’Twas marvellous to.behold it; wrought of gold,

The dog seemed throttling in its paws the fawn,

The fawn’s feet quivering for desire to flee!

I noted too the tunic next his skin,

As glossy as the fresh peel newly stript

Off a dry onion; such its texture soft,

And like the sun it glistened; many a girl

In admiration saw it. One thing more

I warn thee, and consider it in thy mind.

I know not surely whether Odysseus wore

This garb about him when he left his home.

One haply of his comrades on the ship

During the voyage gave it, or perchance

Some host; for he was dear to many men,

And few of all Achaians showed his peers:

As likewise I bestow’d a brazen sword,

A beauteous double-woven purple cloak,

And a rich-broidered tunic, when he left

My house with all due honour for his bark.

A herald, somewhat older than himself,

Was in his train; him also, what he was,

Let me describe ; a man in shoulder thick,

Dark of complexion, and with hair close-curled,

Eurybates his name, of all the crew

Held by Odysseus in the highest regard,
BOOK XIx,
248—276,

304 DESCRIBING HIS DRESS AND PERSON

For that he felt with him in full accord.”

He spoke, and in his wife awoke the more
Yearning of lamentation, as she dwelt
With fond remembrance on each token brought
Surely before her, while Odysseus spoke ;
Till, when her soul was satisfied with tears,
Replying she addressed him thus, and said:

“My guest, I held thee in much ruth before,
But now yet warmer welcome in my house
And at all times great honour shall be thine.
From out the closet I myself brought forth
And folded up such raiment as thou namest,
Putting therein the golden brooch to be
His rich adornment—Ah, but never again
Shall I receive him home, never again
Greet my dear husband to his land returned !
Fraught with an evil doom Odysseus went
On his deep ship departing for the war
With Ilion—yea, the name is like a curse,
Not to be naméd ever !”’

So she ceased,

And many-wiled Odysseus answered thus:

“(O wife illustrious of Laertes’ Son!
No longer mar thy lovely face, nor melt
The soul away within thee, though thereat
I scarce indeed should wonder. Any wife
Losing the man of whose fond love she bare
Her children, needs must mourn him, even although
Her husband was of other sort than thine,
Odysseus, whom they rumour peer to Gods.
Nathless, surcease, and ponder these my words,
Which I, concealing nothing, tell thee true,
All that concerning his return I heard
Lately, quite nigh, amongst the fertile farms
Of the Thesprotian people ; how he still
Lived, and was bringing goodly treasure and great
Thence for his house collected; yet had lost
All his dear comrades and his hollow ship
In the dark-purpling ocean as he left
Thrinakia’s island; such the wrath of Zeus,
And of the Sun, whose cattle they had slain.
AND ASSERTING HIS NEAR APPROACH 305

Therefore all perished in the billowy sea; BOOK XIX.
Him only on his galley’s keel astride 277308.
Waves washed ashore and carried to the land
Of the Phzacians: close akin to Gods
Are they, and like a God they honoured him
Exceedingly, and many a precious gift
Gave, and consented to convoy him home
Scathless and sound. And he had now been here
Long-since; but to his mind it seemed more wise
To travel on by land, collecting wealth ;
For of all men most guileful unto gain
Is.he; none other vies with him for craft.
Pheidon, Thesprotia’s King, this story told,
And, with the due libation in his house,
Sware to me, that a ship already launched
Stood, with a crew equipped, to carry home
Odysseus, till he reached his native land.
But me he sent away before this fell ;
Since a Thesprotian ship at anchor lay,
Bound for Dulichium and its fields of corn.
He showed me all Odysseus had acquired,
Brass, gold, and hammer’d iron, in their land.
For maintenance of any house, save thine,
To the tenth generation would suffice
These only ; but (he added) he had gone
Thence to Dodona, from the voice of Zeus,
Under the high-branched oak oracular,
Seeking a counsel, how to win his way
After such absence to his native land—
In secret guise, or by an open claim.
Thus therefore he is scathless and will come
(Being now quite near thee) nor be absent more
From his dear friends and country. Doubting still,
Hear me confirm my story by an oath.
Be witness thou, O Zeus, of Gods supreme,
And thou, O Hearth-stone, at the which I stand,
These things that I declare shall be fulfilled !
Within the limit of this very year,
Betwixt the passing and the coming moon,
Hither to home Odysseus shall arrive.”

To whom the noble Queen Penelope:

20
BOOK XIX.
309—343.

306 HE CONSENTS TO EURYCLEA

“ May this thy word, dear Stranger, be fulfilled!

And friendly gifts from me shalt thou receive,

So great, that any who meets will deem thee blest.

But I forebode far otherwise, and fear,

Neither Odysseus will return, nor thou

Obtain sure escort home; for none remain

Like him—(if all he was be not a dream)—

Still in this house to order noble guests

Their welcome, or their convoy safe away.

But ye, my handmaids, lave this guest, and stretch

A bedstead, woollen cloaks and glossy rugs,

That he may wait in comfortable plight

The rise of fair-throned morning. Then, at dawn,

Bathe, and anoint him, so to break his fast

Within the hall beside Telemachus

Full honourably seated. Whosoe’er

Of yonder crew dares trouble him again,

Shall rue it bitterly, and quite forego

His purpose here, however much in wrath.

For how should I approve myself to thee

As being beyond all other women famed

For mind and heedful forethought, O my Guest,

If unanointed and in foul garb clothed

Thou tookst thy seat at table in my house ?

Short is the span of life to mortal men:

And he who, churl at heart, doth churlish deeds,

Against him men invoke ili curses down

Whilst he yet lives, and o’er his death exult.

But who, being noble at heart, lives noble life,

His glory through mankind guests far and wide

Will carry, and the world will name him Good.”
To whom in answer sage Odysseus thus:

“Most noble wife of great Laertes’ son!

Mantles and glossy rugs are all to me

Distasteful, from the day my long-oar’d bark

Took from mine eyes the snow-crowned hills of Crete.

And I would therefore lie as heretofore,

Sleepless the long night through; for many a night

On most unseemly litter have I lain,

So waiting the fair rise of sacred Morn.

Neither I crave this washing of my feet.
WASHING HIS FEET 307

None of these handmaids active in the house BOOK XIX,
Shall touch them, save perchance some woman old, 344—379.
Of mind discreet, in suffering like myself ;
Her I would not refuse to wash my feet.”
To whom the noble Queen replied, and said:
“ Of all the far-journeying strangers who have lodged
Within my house, no man with such a heart,
No dearer guest, hath ever come before;
So thoughtful, Stranger, and so sound thy words.
Such agéd woman as thou namest, discreet
And sage of counsel, in my service lives,
One who was my unhappy husband’s nurse
And at his birth received him in her arms.
And she, though now scarce moving on her limbs,
Shall wash thy feet. Rise therefore, my good nurse,
Eurycléa, and wash the feet of one
Who to thy master might be like in years ;
Yea, 1 may deem Odysseus now advanced
To age like this, and with such feet and hands;
Since men in sore distress wax old apace.”
She spoke ; but with both hands the agéd nurse
Covered her face, and, weeping, moaned and said:
“Ah hapless that lam! My child beloved,
Odysseus! Whom, for all thy piety,
Zeus hath yet hated more than other men.
None offered rich burnt-sacrifice or gave
Choice hecatombs of oxen more than thou
To Him who wields the thunder in the sky;
When thou wouldst pray that, to a green old age
Attaining, thou might rear thy noble son:
Yet art thou quite bereft of all return!
Aye, Stranger, it may be that, when he comes
Into some distant palace, handmaids there
May mock him, as these strumpets gibed at thee ;
Whom thou forbidst from service, lest thou meet
Disgrace and insult. Therefore hath the Queen
Enjoined on me that task, and, nothing loth,
Both for her sake and thine I wash thy feet.
My heart is stirr’d within me for thy woes:
For understand, and meditate my words.
Of all the strangers who in wretched plight
BOOK XIX,
380—411,

308 THE STORY OF AUTOLYCUS

Have entered here, none have I ever seen
In voice and feet and stature so like him.”

To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:
“Yea, woman, so they said, who saw us both
Together, that we were exceeding like ;

This thine observant eyes have noted too”.

He spoke; she brought the glistening caldron near
Wherein their usage was to cleanse the feet,
And poured cold water first, and warm anon.
But, turning to the dark side of the hall,
Odysseus from the hearth sate well away,
Fearing that as she touched him she might find
A certain scar, and all his secret so
Might be too soon discovered. And she came
Close to her master, and had hardly touched
When she beheld and knew the wound, wherewith
A white-tusk’d boar had scarr’d him, when of old
He went on visit to Autolycus
Up to Parnassus. But Autolycus
Was the brave father of his mother, known
Amongst all men as first for thieving guile
And swearing oaths forsworn, being so endowed
By heavenly Hermes, on whose altar oft
He sacrificed sweet thighs of lamb and kid,
Wherefore the God companion’d all his ways.

It chanced Autolycus that very day
Arrived in Ithaca, when his daughter’s son
Was born, and in his lap, just after feast,
Eurycléa had placed the infant, saying:

“ Autolycus, bestow upon this babe
Whatever name may please thee, being the son
Of thine own daughter, and much desired by thee”.

Whereat Autolycus made answer thus:
“Name him, my son and daughter, as I bid.

A man of wrath through all the fruitful earth
With men and women I have fought till now;
Therefore Odysseus, child of wrath, his name.
And, when he grows to man’s estate, and comes
To see me in his mothet’s ancient house,
Where on Parnassus all my booty lies,
THE SCAR GIVEN IN THE BOAR-HUNT 309

Thence I will send him joyous with my gifts.” BOOK XIX.
412—447,
This was the cause for which Odysseus went
On visit thither, to procure those gifts.

Autolycus and all his gallant sons
Gave welcome, with warm hands and glad address,
And with a close embrace Amphithéa,
His grandame, kissed his head and beaming eyes.
At once the Chieftain bade his glorious sons
Get ready a breakfast, and they heard his hest,
And straightway brought and killed a five-year bull,
Flayed it, and dressed, dismembering all its limbs,
Sliced it with care, and pierced each slice with spits,
The which they roasted and apportioned out.
So all day through till set of sun they sate
Feasting, and lack was none of equal shares.
Thereafter all partook the boon of sleep.

With the first rise of rosy-fingered Dawn
Forth with their hounds Autolycus’ sons
Moved to the hunt, and noble Odyseus
Amongst them; and they clomb the wood-clothed slopes
Of Mount Parnassus, till they gained anon
A windy sunk ravine enfolded high.
From the deep smooth-flowing ocean-river the Sun
Was smiting with his first bright beams the fields,
When to a dell the beaters came, the hounds
Before them, and Autolycus’ sons
Behind, but brave Odysseus in the front,
Armed with long-shadowing spear, among the dogs.
There in a deep lair lay a mighty boar ;
Such lair as not the might of moistening winds,
Nor with his burning beams the Sun, could pierce,
Nor ever rain passed through it; bush by bush,
So dense it lay, and littered deep with leaves.
Around it sounded clatter of their steps,
The beaters pushing on, and men, and hounds,
Till, from his cover charging straight, the boar,
Bristling his crest, fire flashing from his eyes,
Before them showed, on whom Odysseus dashed
BOOK XIX.
448— 483,

310 RECOGNITION BY EURYCLEA

Foremost, with lifted spear in broad clenched hand,
Fiery to strike him; but the boar struck first
Into his leg above the knee, and shore

Much flesh away, but with a tusk oblique
Charging, that so it pierced not to the bone.

Yet, driving on, Odysseus plunged his spear

In the boar’s shoulder, and the point held through
All its right side, and in the dust the beast

Dropt, moaning, life and spirit fleeing away.

The godlike Hero’s wound the gallant sons

Of bold Autolycus with skill bound up,
Staunching the black blood by a charm, and straight
Returning bore him to their father’s house.

When they had wholly healed him, with rich gifts
Joyous themselves they sent him joyous home.
His father and fair mother with much love
Received him, and inquired about the scar,

What he had suffered; and he told his tale

In order, how a boar with gleaming tusk

Driving against him had given it in the hunt

On Mount Parnassus with his grandsire’s sons.

And this the agéd nurse with down-bent hands
Now felt, and, knowing it by the touch, let drop
Forward the foot, so that the whole leg fell
Into the caldron, and the metal rang,
Inclining over, with the water spilled.
Delight and grief together smote her heart ;
Her eyes were filled with tears, her voice was checked,
Yet to his beard she raised her hand, and said:
“Odysseus thou most surely art, my Child;
Nor knew I mine own master save by touch!”
She spoke, and, looking toward the Queen, would fain
Have told her husband’s presence by some sign.
Yet she saw nothing nor perceived at all;
Athene quite diverted thence her mind:
While to the nurse’s throat Odysseus put
One hand, and with the other pulled her near:
““Wouldst thou, my Nurse, desire my utter death,
Thou at whose breast I sucked? ’Tis, verily, true:
After much suffering, in the twentieth year,
HE PRESCRIBES HER SILENCE 311

I have regained my native land at last. BOOK XIX.
But, since thou hast discover’d me, or some God 484—514.
Hath to thy mind revealed it, keep thee still
Silent, nor in the hall let others know.
Else, if a God subdue beneath me soon
These haughty Suitors, though thou be my nurse
I will not spare thee, when the moment comes
For slaying these other handmaids in the house.’
To whom discreet Eurycléa replied:
“My child, what word has flown thy teeth’s white
fence ?
Thou knowest my temper, not to be overcome,
And firm of purpose; I will hold myself
Like stubborn stone or iron. One thing more
I say, which ponder well within thy mind.
If soon a God subdue beneath thine arm
These haughty Suitors, I would tell thee truth
About these women in the palace—who
Dishonour thee, and who have no offence.”
To whom in answer sage Odysseus said: .
“ To what good end, O woman, couldst thou speak ?
No need for thee; myself will see and know
Of their behaviour: keep thy story closed
In silence ; to the Immortals leave all else.”
He ended; and Euryclea passed right through
Out of the hall to fetch more water, since
The other had been spill’d. Thereafter, when
His feet were washen and with olive oil
Anointed, nearer to the fire he drew
His seat again, to warm him, and with care
Under his tattered rags concealed the scar.

Anon Penelope renewed address:
«« My guest, I question thee but little more ;
For soon will be the hour of pleasant rest
To those, whoe’er they be, whom gentle Sleep
Can comfort in despite of sorrow’s pangs.
But measureless the evil Heaven on me
Hath laid, whose sole distraction during day
Is amid tears and mourning to inspect
Mine own work and my handmaids’ in the house ;
BOOK XIx,
515—547.

312 PENELOPE TELLS HER DREAM

And then, when night comes and to others rest,

On bed I lay me, but my inmost heart

Is pierced by stabs of anguish. Even as when

The olive-tawny bird, Aédon, child

Of Pandareus, at burst of spring-tide, pours

Her sweet voice forth, re-echoing near and far,

Couched amongst blossoms of the trees, in song

With changeful notes oft varying, while she wails

Her own child Itys, whom unwittingly

She slew, the son of Xethus, in his youth ;

So changeful, hither and thither my heart is swayed,

Whether beside my son to attend and guard

My wealth, my handmaids, and this high-roofed house,

For reverence to my husband’s bed, and all

The rumour of the people—or to go

Following whoever of the Achaian chiefs

The noblest seems and brings the largest gifts.

Por, whilst he was a child, untrained in mind,

My son prevented me from wedlock new

Or from abandoning my husband's house ;

But now, of age, to manhood’s stature grown,

He begs me rather from this house to go

Returning to my father, since he frets

For substance by the Achaians here consumed.

Yet listen, and interpret me this dream.

Twenty tame geese within my courts eat corn

Out of their water-trough, and in the sight

I find some pleasure ; but an eagle, coming

Mighty, crook-taloned, from the mountain, brake

Their necks and slew them all, and strewn they lay

About the palace; then aloft it flew.

And, though ’twas but a dream, I wept, and shrieked ;

Whereat soon round me crying piteously,

Because the eagle had destroyed my geese,

The fair Achaian women gathering came.

But back the eagle flew anon, and perched

High on a jutting rafter in the hall,

And thence with mortal voice would stay my tears:
“Be of good cheer, Icarus’ noble Child!

No dream this vision but of substance true

Which soon shall have fulfilment. Those, thy geese,
ITS INTERPRETATION 313

Were as the Suitors; I, who erst appeared BOOK XIX.
The eagle, now again appear, thy lord : 548-582.
And husband, who shall wreak upon them death.’
He spoke ; sweet Slumber off me loosed its hold,
And I perceived, as erst, within the court
And cropping corn along the trough, my geese.”
To whom deep-wiled Odysseus made reply:
“ Lady, interpretation of this dream
Could not be made in other wise, than that,
Odysseus saith himself will bring to pass.
Death broods above the Suitors imminent ;
Death, and a slaughter not a man shall flee!”
To whom the noble Queen made answer thus:
“ Nay, Stranger, dreams are oft of no import,
Void of interpretation, unfulfilled.
Two are the gates for Phantom-dreams to pass ;
But one of ivory wrought, and one of horn.
Those, that flit through the smooth-sawn ivory doors,
Delude us, and make promise, void and vain;
But those, that through the horn-gate thrid their way,
Bring unto true fulfilment all they show.
My dreadful vision I scarce hope arrived
By the horn-portal—to my son and me
Most welcome, were it so! Yet one thing more
I tell thee, and consider it in thy mind.
Now comes the dawn of that ill-omened day
That puts me asunder from Odysseus’ house.
The ordeal of the archers I propose,
A feat he oft would manage in this hall.
Twelve double-headed axes in a row
Stuck, like the scaffolding to hold a keel,
And through the bladed crescents of all twelve,
Standing far off, an arrow he would send.
Upon the Suitors I will lay this test.
And whoso with least effort strings the bow
And sends his arrow straight through all the twelve,
Him following I will tear me away from this
Dear home of my espousals—beauteous, blest,
Rich with all substance, and the thought whereof
Will haunt me for ever and ever even in dreams!”
To whom deep-wiled Odysseus gave reply;
BOOK XIX,
583—604.

314 THE ORDEAL OF THE BOW

“O wife most noble of Laertes’ Son!
Delay not this ordeal any more;
Since, let them finger as they may that bow,
Ere they can string it or so shoot a shaft,
Odysseus will be here before their eyes”.

To whom the great-soul’d Queen Penelope:
“ Stranger, if in this hall thou couldst consent
Sitting beside me to entrance me thus,
No slumber on my lids would fall this night.
But mortals cannot alway sleepless be:
To each thing on the fruitful earth the Gods
Have given its season for the use of men.
I therefore mounting to the upper rooms
Will lay me on the deeply-groaning bed
Made of my sighs and wetted with the tears
Flowing ceaseless from the day Odysseus sailed
For lIlion—Ah, that name of evil doom,
Not to be naméd ever! I perforce,
There lay me down ; and thou, within the house
Stretch on the ground thy bed, or let these maids
Bring thee a bedstead.”

Saying thus she passed

Not uncompanioned, with her handmaids, up
Into her glistening chamber; thither She
Ascended with her handmaids and bewailed
Odysseus, her dear husband, till sweet sleep
Sent by bright-eyed Athene closed her lids.
ODYSSEUS LYING SLEEPLESS 315

ODYSSEY XX.
But outside in the court-yard’s colonnade BOOK XX.
Noble Odysseus made himself a couch, 1—26.

Spreading an untanned ox-hide on the ground

And thereupon thick fleeces of the sheep

Killed by the Suitors; and Eurynome

Added a mantle o’er him where he lay.

Wakeful, and musing in his mind ill doom

Against the wooers, there he lay at rest:

Till soon the women issuing from the hall,

With laughter gay emboldening one the other,

Passed toward their lovers’ chambers in the town.

Anger upheaving from his heart was moved,

And deeply he pondered in his inmost soul,

Whether in quick pursuit to wreak their deaths,

Or to permit for this one last night more

Those lustful men’s embraces. But the heart

Growled in him; as around her newborn whelps

A dog may walk and keen for quarrel growls

At one she knows not; so within him growled

His spirit, indignant at their evil deeds.

He smote his breast, and thus rebuked his heart:

“Be still, my heart, endure it, who enduredst

Of old even greater evil on the day ~

When the wild Cyclops in his savage maw

Devoured my strong companions ; yet our craft

Gat thee safe forth, though thinking there to die’.
He spoke, so chiding in his breast the heart:

And steadfastly enduring in those bonds

It bode, though he himself tossed up and down;

As when a man before a blazing fire

Now on this side may turn, and now on that,

A paunch with rich lard and black pudding stuffed,
BOOK Xx.
27—57.

316 IS ENCOURAGED BY ATHENE

For he desires it dress’d with all good speed ;
So now on this side, now on that, he writhed,
In meditation how to Jay strong hands
Upon the violent Suitors’ shameless crew,
Being one against so many. But from heaven
Descending to his couch Athene came
Guised in a woman’s form, and o’er his head
Standing addressed these wingéd words, and spake :
“Why, O ill-fated most of all mankind!
Why wilt thou lie thus wakeful? This thy house,
And here thy wife within it, and a son
Such as a father hopes his child may be.”
To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:
“Yea, Goddess, all thy words to truth accord.
Nathless my mind must ponder, how to lay
Strong hands upon these shameless Suitors best,
Being one, while they in numbers throng my hall.
Moreover this yet greater fear | feel.
How, though I slay them through thy help and Zeus’,
May I escape the vengeance of their kin ? ‘
Give careful heed, I charge thee, hereunto.”
And fiery-eyed Athene made reply :
“QO hard of hearing! Yet a man will ask
Even of another mortal, like himself
And less endowed with wisdom, sage advice:
But me behold, a Goddess, who right through
Guard thee in all thy troubles, face to face
Conversing! Yea, though fifty ambuscades
Of language-speaking men encompassed us,
All in close battle to subdue us fain,
So from the fifty shouldst thou plunder safe
Their fat sheep and their oxen driven away!
Let slumber now possess thee; without sleep
To watch the whole night through would hurt thy strength,
And ’neath thy troubles thou wouldst sink anon.”
Speaking the queenly Goddess o’er his lids
Shed sleep, and toward Olympus passed away.

Soft slumber so relaxed his limbs in rest,
And loosed the chain of sorrow round his heart;
The while the flower of women, his wise wife,
PENELOPE’S LAMENT 317

In tears sate sleepless on her soft-strewn bed, BOOK XxX.

Till, when her soul was sated with lament, 58—89.

First in her prayers on Artemis she called:
“Daughter of Zeus, chaste Artemis divine!

Oh that with sudden arrow through my heart

Thou wouldst straight take unto thyself my life,

Or (if Thou wilt not) that a storm might snatch

And whirl me to the valley of darkness deep

At the far mouths of Ocean’s refiluent stream |

Like to the storm that whelmed the daughters erst

Of Pandareus, what time the Gods had slain

Their parents, and, left orphan in their house,

To them queen Aphrodite nurture gave

With honey and savoury wine and curded milk ;

And Heré for her bounty wisdom brought

And beauty that exceeded woman’s lot ;

Pure Artemis vouchsafed a stature tall,

And Pallas taught them needle-craft renowned.

Yet on a day when Aphrodite sped

Seeking the crown of wedlock for their youth,

To Zeus who wields the Thunder, and foreknows

The fate of mortals, be it weal or woe—

The harpies caught them in their blasts away

Delivered to the Furies’ tender care!

Ev’n so, ye Powers who on Olympus dwell,

Remove me out of knowledge! Or smite thou,

O fair-haired Goddess! Lay me low in death,

That, buried in the loathsome earth, at least

1 still may hold Odysseus in mine eyes,

Not bless the longing of some meaner mate!

Sorrow is then endurable by man,

However closely it besets the heart,

When, though he mourns the long day through, yet Sleep

Possesseth him at night; for slumber brings,

When once across our wearied eyes it falls,

Forgetfulness of all things, good or ill:

But to my tortures Zeus hath added dreams!

Yea, at my side this very night there lay

One like to him, ev’n such as he went forth

Following the host; and I somewhile therein

Found comfort, saying to myself, I saw
BOOK Xx.
90—120.

318 FAVOURABLE OMENS AT DAWN

No unsubstantial dream, but life indeed.”
Even as she ceased, gold-thronéd Morning rose.

Her voice thus mourning brave Odysseus caught,
Much troubled ; for above his head she seemed
Standing, for recognition of her lord.

The mantle therefore and the fleeces strewn

He caught together, and these within the hall
Placed on a chair, but bore beyond the gates
And put aside the ox-skin, then in prayer

With lifted hands invoked great Zeus, and said:

“Tf, Father Zeus, with favour Gods to home
Have brought me, though afflicted overmuch,
Safe over moist and dry—now let this house
Greet me with some well-omened word within,
And be some other sign vouchsafed without’.

He ceased ; in cloud-pavilion high concealed
The Lord of all good counsel heard his prayer
And thundered off Olympus’ sparkling peak ;
Whilst, haply, at that moment in the house
A woman, grinding corn, gave forth her plaint
Out of the chamber near, where mill-stones stood
Planted for grinding of Odysseus’ corn.

Twelve were the women set to that employ,
Making of barley meal, and flour of wheat

The marrow of mankind ; but all asleep

Now lay, having ended their allotted tasks,

Save one, the feeblest, who was working still,

And, for an omen to her master, now

Stopping her quern, thus uttered speech, and said:

“Ruler of Gods and men, our Father, Zeus!
Thou from a starry sky hast thundered loud,
Albeit no cloud appears—a sign perchance
Vouchsaféd to some mortal. Hear me too,

Me, wretched as I am, and grant my prayer ;

Be this the last and sole remaining day

For the proud Suitors in Odysseus’ house ;

Yea, those who bow my knees with grievous toil
To grind their meal—be this their revelling’s end!”

She ceased ; and in the omen of her words,
And in the thunder sent by Zeus from heaven,
TELEMACHUS WITH EURYCLEA 319

Noble Odysseus found good cheer, and said, BOOK Xx.
He would avenge him for their sins right soon. 121—151.

Through the fair palace then the other maids
Woke, and rekindled on the hearth a fire
Burning unwearied; while the godlike Prince
Telemachus rose likewise from his bed,
Donned garments, round his shoulders flung a sword,
Bound broidered sandals to his glistening feet,
Took up a heavy spear with brass-point tipt,
And, passing to the threshold, called and said:
“ Speak, my good nurse, Eurycléa, and say:
How have ye treated in my halls our guest ?
With good repast and bed? Or hath he lain,
Uncared for, couch’d at random, anywhere ?
For such my mother, wise, but blind herein ;
She oft prefers the meaner man, and sends
The nobler quite discourteously away.”
To whom discreet Euryclea replied:
“Child, wouldst thou blame her where no blame is due ?
Long as he willed it, wine he drank, but said
For food he had no hunger when she asked.
And she had charged the handmaids, that, whene’er
He should bethink him of sweet sleep and rest,
They should bestrew a bedstead under him ;
But he, like one in utter wretchedness,
Wholly surrendered to an evil fate,
Consented not on rugs and bed to lie,
But outside in the court-yard’s colonnade
On untanned hide and fleeces laid him down.
We could but cover him with a cloak ourselves.”
She ended; spear in hand, Telemachus
Out from the hall, two swift dogs following, moved
To the well-arm’d Achaians in the town.

On the handmaidens then Eurycléa,
Daughter of Ops, Peisenor’s son, and erst
Queenly 'mongst women, calling, laid this charge:
“ Now hasten, some with speed to sweep the hall,
Sprinkling it, and on the well-wrought couches strew
The purple rugs; and others quick to wipe
BOOK XX.
152—185,

320 THE HERDSMEN RETURN

With sponges all the tables, and make clean

The bowls and two-cupp’d goblets richly chased.

Some to the fountain go, and with quick step

Fetch water thence ; for early will return

The Suitors ; ’tis the new-moon’s festal day.”
She ended; nothing loth, they all obeyed ;

To the black-bubbling fount a score went forth,

The rest right merrily laboured in the hall.

Anon the varlets of the Chieftains came,
And with skilled hands clove fagots for the fire ;
Then from the fount the handmaidens returned,
With whom had joined the swineherd, bringing down
Three boars, the choicest of his well-fed droves.
These he let loose to roam within the court,
And to Odysseus turned with soft address:

“Do the Chiefs now regard thee with kind looks,

O Stranger, or insult thee as before ?”

To whom deep-wiled Odysseus made reply:
“They change in nought, Eumzus! May the Gods
With vengeance visit them for these foul deeds,
Which in another’s house they still complot,
Unblushing, in their arrogance supreme!”

These two so held their converse all apart.

Melanthius next, the goatherd, near approached,
Two shepherds with him, bringing from his flocks
The finest goats to be the Suitors’ feast.

These tethered ‘neath the echoing corridor
He left, and ’gan revile Odysseus thus:

“Still here, O Stranger, still to give annoy
Importuning the Suitors! Wilt thou never
Betake thee out of doors? I much misdoubt,
We two will not be parted, side from side,

Ere of each other’s fists we take a taste.
Thy begging runs beyond all wonted use ;
Achaian banquets may be found elsewhere.”

He spoke; Odysseus answered not at all,

Shaking his head, and brooding his revenge.

Philzetius next, the neatherds’ overseer,
THE LAMENT OF PHILATIUS 321

Was third to join them, for the Suitors’ feast BOOK Xx.
Driving one barren heifer, and fat sheep, 186—216.
Brought by the boatmen who across the straits
Ferry whoever calls them to their trade.
Under the echoing corridor he bound
His beasts, and of the swineherd asked, and said:

“Who, Swineherd, is this stranger, lately come ?
And of what lineage may he boast to be?
Where were his parents and his native fields?
Unhappy man, yet like a King-born Chief
In form and stature! But the Gods oft plunge
Men into seas of trouble beaten astray,
And spin disaster even for mightiest Kings.”

He paused, and with his right hand pledging troth
To Odyseus address’d these wingéd words:

“ Father, I bid thee hail! Hereafter may
Prosperity attend thee, who art now
Possessed by grievous evil! Other God
Is none, O Father Zeus, more cruel in might
Than Thou, who hast not pity enow on men,
Although thyself begatt’st them, to refrain
From mingling up their lives with bitter woes!
Soon as I saw thee, into feverish sweat
I broke, and for Odysseus’ memory tears
Gush’d to mine eyes, which picture him, alone
(If in the Sun’s warm light he lives at all),
A wanderer, wearing ev’n such rags as thine.
But, if in Hades’ house he now be dead,
Woe then for my good master, who long-since
When I was still quite young appointed me
Amongst the Cephallenians overseas
The headman of his neatherds and his herds.
And these indeed increase in number ; yea,
Like ears of corn they multiply; no breed
Of broad-brow’d oxen by mere man possessed
Could be in better plight. But strangers now
Command me drive them hither to be food
Unto their feasts, regardless of his son,
Nor of the visitation of the Gods
Fearful, but rather already amongst them planning
Partition of the vanished Chieftain’s wealth.

21
322 THEIR LOYALTY TESTED

Book xx. Hence in my bosom this one thought revolves ;

217—246. How, whilst my master’s son is yet alive,
'Twere vile for me to migrate with the herds
Into strange countries, seeking pastures new ;
Yet how ’tis even worse evil here to bide
Grieving in vain for cattle stolen away.
So unendurable the ill hath grown,
That I had fled to exile long ago
For service with some other Chief of might,
Save for my one persistent hope, that he
May yet return from somewhere in the world,
To make a scattering of his enemies hence.”

To whom deep-wiled Odysseus made reply:
-« Since thou seemst neither cowardly nor unwise,
And I discern the mind within thee sage,
I tell thee, Neatherd, what shall come to pass,
And with a mighty oath affirm it true.
Be witness first, O Zeus, of Gods supreme,
And ye, O hospitable Board and Hearth
Of great Odysseus, before which I stand!
Odysseus, whilst thou yet art here, shall come
Into his house; and, if thou list, thou shalt
See with thine eyes these men who lord it now,
The Suitors, falling slaughtered by his hands.”
To whom replied the neatherd-overseer :

“May but Kroneion bring to pass thy words,
O Stranger, and to abet thee thou shalt know
What power, and mightiness of arm, are mine!”

Eumeus in like manner prayed the Gods
That sage Odysseus might return to home.

Thus each with other these their converse held.
But, while the Suitors still concerting death
Against Telemachus together sate,

Across their left hand passed in lofty flight
An eagle, and it held a quivering dove;
Whereat Amphinomus amongst them spoke:

‘‘ Friends, for the slaying of Telemachus
No counsel will succeed to our desire.

Betake us rather unto feast this day.”
THEY ENTER THE HALL TOGETHER 323

He spoke ; and all acclaiming heard, and passed BOOK Xx.
Into the palace, and, laying down their cloaks 247—278.
Along the chairs and couches, slew fat sheep,

Goats, and great boars, and heifer from the herd;
Whereof the inner parts they cooked and gave
Amongst them: in the bowls a wine they mixed,
And cups were handed by the swineherd round.
The overseer Philztius parted bread

In baskets, and Melanthius poured forth wine.

So on the dainty fare they laid their hands.

But, practising his craft, Telemachus
At a small table on a lowly seat,
Inside the hall, but near the threshold-step,
Placed brave Odysseus, and beside him set
Due portion of the entrail, with wine poured
Into a golden goblet, saying thus:

“Be seated there, and with the rest drink wine,
And I myself will guard from off thy head
All blows and insult; for no house is this
Of common entertainment, but the home
Odysseus built him for my heritage.
Therefore from threats and outrage hold ye down
Your tempers, all ye Suitors, lest perchance
Betwixt us brawl and conflict soon rise high.”

He spoke; they paused, with teeth against their lips
Close-set, in wonder at the prince, he spoke
So boldly ; but Antinous thus advised:

“Let us accept, Achaians, these his words
In quiet, hard to endure them though it be;
For against us his daring speech he aims.
Kroneion suffered not our plan to thrive ;
Else had we silenced him within these halls,
How glib soever now his tongue may run.”

He spoke ; the prince regarded not his words.

Meantime the heralds up the city led
For offering on the altars of the Gods
A sacred hecatomb ; and all the folk,
The Achaians of the island, gathering thronged
The holy grove of Him who smites from far.
BOOK Xx.
279—308.

324 CTESIPPUS INSULTING ODYSSEUS

But not those others in the palace ; they
Now cooked the outer flesh 0’ the cattle slain,
And drew it back, and giving unto each
His portion, so partook a lordly feast ;

While to Odysseus those who served it forth
Brought such a share as fell to each of them,
For thus Telemachus had given command.

Howbeit Athene suffered not the troop
Of lustful Suitors wholly to abstain
From grievous outrage, so to sting the more
Laertes’ Son Odysseus to the heart.

Amongst them was a certain man, by name
Ctesippus, who in Samé’s isle abode,

And, trustful in his great possessions, pressed
His courtship on the long-gone Chieftain’s wife :
He now addressed their misproud company :

“ Hearken, O noble Suitors, whilst I speak.
This guest already hath received his share ;

And ’twere dishonour to us and unjust
To stint the guests Telemachus receives,
Whoe’er they be that come into the house.
See me then grace him with some further gift,
Which, if he listeth, he in turn can pass
To the retainer who prepared his bath,
Or to whomever he prefers of those
Who do divine Odysseus’ household-work.”

Speaking, from out the basket where it lay
He caught an ox-foot up, and with strong hand
Threw it; but shifting quickly his head aside
Odysseus shunned the blow, and, wrathful, smiled
A bitter smile sardonic, as he watched
The missile dash against the well-built wall.
Loudly his son reproached the other thus:

« Better for thee, Ctesippus (as thy heart
Well knoweth) that thou thus hast missed my guest
And he hath saved himself! Else, verily,
Sheer through the body had my sharp-edged spear
Pierced thee, and, in the stead of spousals here,
Thy father had been seeking for thy grave !
Cease all to show such outrage: of myself
IS REBUKED BY TELEMACHUS 325

I now right well perceive, and understand BOOK XX.
What tends to evil, what to good, report ; 309—341.
Before, I was a child, nor knew these things.
’Tis hard enough to bear what needs I must,
This slaughter of my flocks, this wasted wine ;
But cease from wreaking on me any more
Dishonour by your hate! Or, if ye rage
To slay me, to your swords I yield my life:
Better by far to perish once for all,
Than live ’mid daily outrages, to see
My guests maltreated, and my handmaids dragged
Through my rich chambers by your shameless hands!”
He ended ; and awhile they rested mute,
All stricken into silence, till the son
Of rich Damastor, Agelaus, said:
“ Friends, when a righteous thing is spoken, none
Gainsays it, or retorts an angry word.
Use not this stranger roughly, neither wrong
Any of divine Odysseus’ household-slaves.
Howbeit a gentler counsel I would give
To the queen-mother and Telemachus,
If haply it might please the minds of both.
So long as you retained a spark of hope
That sage Odysseus to his home would come,
It moved no wrath that ye should in suspense
Detain us in your palace waiting still:
For, if he ever reappearing came,
’Twere better he should find his house unchanged.
But this is now assured—he comes no more.
Go then apart, and urge thy mother straight
To marry, whosoever noblest seems
Amongst us, and makes proffer of most gifts.
So only wilt thou take thy patrimony
In thine own hands, and eat and drink at ease,
Whilst she administers another’s house.”
To whom the sage young Prince replied, and said:
“Nay, Agelaus, nay; by Zeus supreme,
And by my father’s sufferings, who, methinks,
Hath perished, or endures a vagrant’s life
Far out of Ithaca—not I, his son,
Delay such marriage, but exhort her quick
BOOK Xx.
342—371.

326 THE SUITORS’ MADNESS

To wed whome’er she listeth, and I make
Large promise of unwonted gifts withal.

But by peremptory command to drive

My mother from my house were veriest shame,
And God forbid it e’er should come to pass!”

He ceased: but Pallas in those others moved
A laughter uncontrollable, and made
Their wits to wander. With false alien lips
They laughed; and in the flesh they ate was mixed
Blood; and their eyes were blinded with their tears,
For futile yearning to lament aloud!

And Theoclymenus, the Seer, cried out:

“ Ah, wretches, what this curse ye undergo?
Your heads, your faces, and your limbs beneath
All swallowed up in gloom! Like fire flames forth
Wild shrieking; and your cheeks are drowned in tears.
With blood the walls, with blood each fair recess
Drips; and the porch is thronged and all the court
With Phantoms pressing on toward Erebus
Down to the far horizon! Even the Sun
Hath perished out of heaven, and a dark mist
Of evil death runs drawn across the world!”

He spoke; yet not the less they gaily laughed
Mocking him; and Eurymachus began:

“This stranger, from whatever quarter here
Arrived so lately, hath gone raving-mad.
Let the young men conduct him out of doors
In safety to the open market-place ;
Since unto night he likens our fair hall.”

But Theoclymenus, the Seer, replied:
“ Burymachus, I utterly forbid
Guides to attend me: eyes I have, and ears;
My feet are sound; and in my breast a mind
Firm-set, and nothing wanting. Trusting these,
Forthwith, and of mine own accord, I go.
Impending o’er you ruin I behold.
Yea, of this throng of Wooers, who contrive
Outrageous insult now on other men,
None shall avoid destruction—none escape!”

He spoke, and from the spacious hall passed forth
Unto Peirzeus, who with welcome glad
DENOUNCED BY THEOCLYMENUS = 327

Received him. BOOK XX.
Looking each in other’s eyes, 372—398.
The Suitors then against Telemachus
Renewed their banter, mocking at his guests;
And in his haughty mood a man would say:
“‘ More luckless in his guests, Telemachus,
Than thou art, none was ever! Lo this loon,
Out of the gutter picked, in beggarly need
Of food and wine, a vagrant, uninured
To good strong work, a cumberer of the ground!
And now again a second, who stands up
To prophesy against us! Take advice;
If thou wilt hear, thy better course were this:
To let us in a well-bench’d galley throw
Thy guests pell-mell despatch’d to Sicily,
Where ev’'n this wretch might bring thee in a price!”’
So spake the Suitors; but their words the prince
Regarded not, and on his father kept
His eyes, in silence, of the moment still
Expectant, when Odysseus should uplift
His hand for slaughter of that impious crew.

Then, at the long hall’s adverse side, the Queen,
Daughter of Icarus, Penelope,
Came to a settle, beautifully wrought,
Whence she would hear their converse, each with each.
For laughter loud rang through the hall, where they
Had ta’en their midday banquet, sweet to taste,
Delightful, for much meat was nigh at hand,
Nor knew, that more ungracious food could ne’er
Be served to mortal, than the supper soon
By a great Goddess and one man of might
About to be presented to their mouths;
For theirs the first offending, theirs the guilt.
BOOK XxXI.
1—26,

328 THE HISTORY OF THE BOW

ODYSSEY XXI.

Then in the mind of sage Penelope
Pallas Athene breathed desire to bring
Into the open hall the famous bow
With axes of grey iron, and provoke
A contest—the beginning of their doom.
The lofty ladder to her own abode
Mounting, she took the fair-curved key, of brass
Fine-wrought, and ivory-hefted, thence she passed
On with her handmaids to the inmost room,
The treasure-chamber, where were lying reposed
Her lord’s best-prized possessions, brass, and gold,
And hammered iron. Likewise there the bow
Lay, and a quiver for the shafts, replete
With arrows barbed for anguish—gifts bestowed
By Iphitus, the son of Eurytas,
A godlike man, who lighted on him once
In Lacedzemon, when on differing quests
They met at far Messené in the house
Of brave Orsilochus. Odysseus came
Thither to seek recovery of a debt,
Whereto was bounden that whole country-side,
Since the Messenians on their well-oar’d ships
Had lifted sheep three hundred from the isle
Of Ithaca with their shepherds. For this cause
His father and the old men of the isle
Had sent him forth, though still a lad in years,
Commissioned for the quest. But Iphitus
Had come inquiring for twelve horses—mares,
Lost with their sturdy mule-foals at their teats—
Lost—and to be his ruin, when anon
He reached the Child of Zeus great Hercules
The accomplice in the foray and the theft,
BROUGHT FORTH BY PENELOPE — 329

Who slew him in his reckless-hearted mood, BOOK XXI.
Though at his hearth made welcome, nor forbore 2759.
In reverence of the judgment of the Gods

Nor for the table that himself had spread

Before his guest—but slew him after meat,

And kept the strong-hoofed horses in his stalls !

Thus Iphitus encountered in his search

Odysseus, and bestowed on him this bow,

Once borne by godlike Eurytas, and then

In his high palace to his son bequeathed.

But on his side Odysseus gave a spear

And two-edged sword, that thenceforth might spring up

Fair interchange of goodly courtesies

Betwixt them. Nathless neither tasted food

At the other’s table; for the Child of Zeus

Slew Iphitus, the giver of the bow.

This never would Odysseus take abroad

When going with his swift black ships to war ;

But a memorial of his friend it lay,

Worn only in the bound of Ithaca.

But, when the queenly flower of women reached
That chamber, pausing on the oaken step
(Smoothed for its threshold by a craftsman skilled
Who straightened it by line and fixed therein
Posts either side and added panelled doors),
From off the handle she forthwith unloosed
The thong, and thrusting through the fair-curved key,
Aiming its point aright, shot back the bolts.
As in a meadow moaning feeds a bull,
So creaked the shining panels, to the key
Obedient, for her passage sundered wide.
Toa raised platform in the room she stepped,
Whereon chests stood, with fragrant robes well-filled ;
And, reaching upward thence, from off its peg
Took down the bow encased—bright cover and all;
Yet, laying it on her lap, sate down again,
And wept right keenly, drawing it from the case.
When she had eased her heart with this lament,
Back to the high-born Suitors in the hall
She turned her, holding still the unstrung bow
BOOK XXI.
60—96.

330 SHE PROPOSES HER HAND

And the long quiver with barbed arrows filled.
Behind her, maids attendant brought a chest

Laden with iron by her husband won,

His prizes of old time ; and when she neared

The Suitors, at a column of the roof

Standing, she paused, the flower of women, and drew
Her glistening head-dress down her face, the while

A gentle handmaid stood on either side ;

And she addressed the Suitors, speaking thus:

“Hear, noble Suitors, ye who for the rage
Of your insatiate appetites infest
This house of one long absent, yet can urge
No other pretext than your wish forsooth
To marry and to win me for a wife—

Behold at last this prize within your reach!
Divine Odysseus’ mighty bow I bring;

And whoso strings it with an easy hand

Him | will follow, and tear me away from this
Dear home of my espousals, beauteous-built,
Blest with all substance, and the thought whereof
Will haunt me for ever and ever ev’n in dreams!”

She spoke, and bade the worthy Swineherd put

Before them the grey axes and the bow.

In tears Eumzeus took and laid it down;

The neatherd also, where he stood apart,
Wept when he saw his master’s bow; whereat
Antinous thus upbraided them, and said:

“Ye rustic churls, who range not in your thoughts
Beyond the passing moment! Cowardly souls!
Why fret ye with your weeping unrestrained
Your mistress’ heart, already deep enow
In sorrow for the loss of her dear lord ?
Rather in silence sit, and eat at ease;
Or, if ye will be weeping, out of doors
Departing, leave behind you here the bow,
The Suitors’ dread ordeal; not, I fear,
Will this bright weapon easily be strung.
For none amongst you all may boast himself
To be what in his might Odysseus was,
Whom in my childhood I beheld, and well
Remember, since my memory is strong.”

He ended, but at heart he inly hoped
AS THE ARCHERS’ PRIZE 331

To string the bow and send his arrow straight BOOK XxXI.
Betwixt the hatchets—ah unknowing, doomed 97-115.
To foretaste of far other arrow, shot

By the great hero in whose hall he sate,

Doing dishonour to the Chief himself,

And bidding to like crime his comrades on!

Telemachus in youthful strength then spoke:
‘‘Alas! Kroneion makes me scant of wit;
Since, when my dear wise mother saith she goes
Following a husband, sundered from my house,.
I yet stand laughing, idiot-like, for joy!

Nay, Suitors, see your prize within your reach,
Such woman as hath not her peer elsewhere
Through all the region of the Achaian name,
Neither in sacred Pylos, nor the realm

Of Argos, nor Mycenz, nor this isle,

Nor in the cloud-dimm’d continent beyond.
But this ye know right well; what need for me
To sing my mother’s praises? Up then, haste,
Distract not this our purpose by pretexts,
Neither long-while from bending of the bow
Abstain, that we may know the issue soon.
Yea, I would try my fortune first myself:

For, if I bent it and could send my shaft

Right through the bladed line, I need not grieve *

* oF xe por dxvuperm rade Spare rorya wATnp
Aelrot ap’ BAA® iovo’, 67 eye Katémiabe Atmoluny
olos 7 %5n marpds dé0Aia Kar’ averdéoOau.

I differ, with much diffidence, from the usual interpretation of this
passage, as given by both Dr. Merry and Dr. Hayman. The former
translates it: ‘‘ My lady mother need not then to my deep sorrow leave
the house, so long as I remain behind, man enough even now to win
these splendid prizes of my sire’. May not the negative be taken as
mainly qualifying axvupevgy, the sense being ‘‘ She will not leave me
to my hurt, because I should be left able to maintain my father’s good
name and win the same prizes that he won. I shall not suffer by her
going”? Ifthis is permissible, I prefer it for three reasons; (1) I think
Actoluny probably refers to the same action as the preceding Aefaor in
the same line; (2) To take xardémioGe Avrofuny as merely equivalent
to pévoius appears to me awkward, especially as according to this in-
terpretation Telemachus is not deserted by his mother at all; (3) The
meaning I give corresponds better with the relations existing between
the son and the mother concerning her departure, as we gather them
from other speeches made by both.
BOOK XxI.
116—143.

332 TELEMACHUS AND LEIODES

Albeit my noble mother quits my house

For a new husband ; since, ere thus by her
Abandoned, I had shown my strength sufficed

To win my father’s prizes here again.”

Speaking, he doffed his purple mantle, and sprang
Upright, and from his shoulders loosed the sword.
In one long furrow, dug for all, and drawn
Straight by a line, he stuck the axes first

Upright, and round them stamped the earth well down.
All, who beheld him, with amazement watched,
So orderly he ranged them in a row,

Though he had never seen the like before.

Then, moving to the threshold-stone, he made
His trial of the bow; in fierce desire
To bend it, thrice he shook its quivering frame,
And thrice desisted, failing of his might,
Yet hoped on ever to affix the string
And send his arrow through the iron blades.
And the fourth time, he haply of his strength
Had drawn it, but Odysseus by a nod
Forbade him, and restrained his fiery force.
Therefore in youthful vigour thus he cried:
«Ah, woe the while! I dread lest in my life
I show a feeble man of poor esteem;
Or else, being still too young, I may not place
Trust in mine arm from unprovoked annoy
To shelter others. Haste ye therefore, all
Who here in strength surpass me, rise, and try
The bow, that this ordeal may be closed.”
So speaking he put down the bow aslope
Against the polished panels of the door
And leaned the arrow on its fair-curved tip,
Then took again the seat whence first he rose.

Eupeithes’ son, Antinous next resumed:
“One after other, comrades in this test,
From left to right in order, now rise up,
Beginning from the side the wine comes round ”’.
He spoke, and to his bidding all agreed.
FAIL IN STRINGING THE BOW 333

Leiodes therefore, CEnops’ son, first rose, BOOK XxXI.
The augur of the Suitors, from his seat 144—177.
Nearest the wine-filled bowl, at th’ inmost end.
Amongst them to all wantonness averse
Singly he stood, indignant at their deeds.

He first took up the arrow and the bow,

And moving to the threshold-stone began

His trial; but he bent it not; his hands

Too delicately made and uninured

Soon wearied of the string ; and thus he spoke:

“ Priends, let another take it, I surcease.
This bow will cost full many a chief his life.
And better so to perish than to live
Defeated of the endeavour we were pledged
In concert to accomplish, or to wait
For ever lingering on! Desire and hope
To win Odysseus’ wife Penelope
Still stir our hearts; but, after we have made
The ordeal of this bow and found it vain,
Departing let us seek with gifts elsewhere
To woo some other daughter of our race,

And leave this Queen to wed whoever gives
Most largely, and may come her destined mate.”

So speaking, he put down the bow aslope
Against the shining panels of the door,

Leaning the arrow to its fair-curved tip,
And took again the seat whence first he rose.

To whom Antinous answered, chiding thus:
“ Leiodes, what hath passed thy teeth’s white fence?
Abominable, monstrous—yea, my heart
Waxes in dudgeon at the very words—
If of a truth that puny bow should cost
Chieftains their spirits and lives—because forsooth
Thou hast not power to bend it! No such man
Thy noble mother bare thee, as to stand
Our champion chosen for this archery.
Some other high-born Chief will soon succeed.”
He spoke, and turning to the goatherd said:
“ Haste thee, Melanthius, kindle in the hall
The fire, and place beside it a great chair
BOOK XxXI.
178—208.

334 RECOGNITION OF ODYSSEUS

Strewn with a fleece, and from the stores within
Fetch forth a cake of fat, that therewithal

Our men of younger sort may ply the bow

And with fresh oil anoint it, ere we make
Another trial, and complete the test.”

He spoke; Melanthius soon rekindling fire
Put a great chair beside it, strewed a fleece,
And from the larder brought the cake of fat.
Therewith the younger Chieftains sought in vain
To render supple ere they tried the bow,

Yet bent it not, but short in strength fell far.
Godlike Eurymachus and Antinous

Alone held back, the leaders of the band,
Pre-eminent amongst them for their might.

Meanwhile it chanced that, at one moment both,
Divine Odysseus’ loyal servitors,
The swineherd and the neatherd left the house ;
Forthwith Odysseus followed from the hall ;
When they were well outside the gate and court,
With gentle accents he addressed them thus:
“ Neatherd, and thou, true Swineherd! I would say
Something ; or shall I hide it? Nay, my heart
Bids me speak free. What temper would be yours
To save Odysseus, if haply he appeared
From somewhere on the sudden, or some God
Should bring him hither? Would ye range yourselves
Upon the Suitors’ or Odysseus’ side ?
Speak boldly, as the heart within you bids.”
To whom the neatherd-overseer replied:
“O Zeus our Father, bring this hope to pass!
Or let chance guide him hither! Thou shouldst see
What might were mine to follow where he led.”
Eumeus in like manner implored the Gods
That sage Odysseus might return to home.

But when he knew the mind within them true
Replying he addressed them thus again:

“ Behold me standing then once more at home!
After much suffering in the twentieth year
At last I have regained my native land.
BY THE TWO HERDSMEN 335

Pull well I know, of all my retinue BOOK XXI.
Ye two alone are longing I should come; 209—240.
For from no other have I heard expressed
A single prayer for my return to home.
Therefore I tell you truly what shall be.
If God subdues the Suitors by my arm,
On each of you I will bestow a wife,
And large possessions, and new houses built
Close to mine own, and you shall be to me
Like friends or brothers of Telemachus.
Nay, if you doubt me, I will show a sign
(That ye may know and trust me from your hearts)
Of a most absolute surety. See the scar,
The white-tusked boar once gave me, when I went
Hunting on Mount Parnassus with the sons
Of my old grandsire, brave Autolycus.”
He spoke, and off the scar held back his rags.

When they had looked into it and closely scanned
His form and feature, bursting into tears
About their warlike lord both threw their arms,
And kissed his head and shoulders lovingly,
Whose hands and heads Odysseus likewise kissed.
And so they would have wept till set of sun,
Had not Odysseus stayed them, saying thus:

‘‘ Restrain these tears, lest comers from the hall
Perceive you, and inform the foe within.
But now, not all together, one by one
Let us re-enter, first myself, then you:
And let this be for our appointed sign.
The high-born Suitors, one and all, will soon
Forbid me take the arrow and the bow;
But thou, my good Eumzus, through the hall
Carry and place it in my hands, and then
Command the women to make fast the doors
And shut their chambers close, nor venture forth
(Whatever be the groans and uproar heard
Thereafter from the men fenced up with us),
But rest in silence at their proper tasks.
And thee, my friend Philztius, I enjoin
To close the court-yard’s portal with its bar,
BOOK XXI.
241—271.

336 THE SUITORS PROPOSING DELAY

And add thereto some chain right stoutly bound.”

He spoke, and went within the spacious house,
Returning to the seat from whence he rose:
Likewise the two retainers entered in.

Eurymachus was plying still the bow,
Rubbing it up and down with melted fat
Before the fire’s bright blaze, yet not even so
Could bend it; and his proud heart groaned aloud,
Much troubled, as he spoke and uttered this:
“Tis wondrous-sad! I grieve for all our sakes
And for mine own; yet not so much I mourn
(Though this grieves also) for the marriage lost ;
Other Achaian women may be found,
Both here, in sea-ericircled Ithaca,
And in towns many abroad; but, if we fall
Behind divine Odysseus so far short
In strength of arm, as not to bend his bow,
Disgrace will cleave to us even in after-times.”’
Eupeithes’ son Antinous made reply:
“ But thus it shall not be, Eurymachus,
As thou thyself well knowest. Throughout the town
This day a holy festival is held
Ev’n to the Archer-God; and at his feast
Who may succeed in stretching of a bow ?
Rest therefore now, and lay the weapon down.
The hatchets, though we let them stand, are safe ;
No man so bold as for their theft to come
Into the high hall of Laertes’ Son.
Take then in order due the goblets round,
That, ere we lay this crook-bent bow aside,
First to the Gods libation may be poured.
And with the morrow let Melanthius bring
Goats, the most splendid of the herd he tends,
That we may make burnt-offering of their thighs
To bow-renowned Apollo, ere we try
Another effort and conclude this test.”
Antinous ended and his word pleased all.
Fresh water on their hands the heralds poured ;
Boys crowned the bowls with wine, and, left to right,
Gave forth to each in order of their seats:
ODYSSEUS SOLICITS PERMISSION 337

After libation when they had drunk their fill, BOOK XXI.
Odysseus of his wile began address: 272304.

“ Hear me, O Suitors of this famous Queen!
As my heart bids within me, I would speak,
Turning me mainly to Eurymachus
And the great Chief Antinous, who but now
According to the occasion aptly spoke:

‘ Let the bow rest, and trust us to the Gods,
Who will bestow the mastery as they list
At dawn to-morrow’. Nathless, give, I pray,
The polished bow to me, that ’fore you all
I may make trial of my might of arm,

Whether the sinewy strength is in me still

That once existed in my lithesome limbs,

Or whether vagrancy and long neglect

Have left me weak, and now destroyed it quite.”

He ended; but thereat they overbrimmed
With anger, fearing lest he string the bow;

And soon Antinous answering chid him thus:

“ Stranger and beggar, sorriest of thy kind!
Thou hast no sense within thee—not a gleam.
Art thou not well content to sit at ease
Amongst us, in a noble company,

Excluded from no portion in our feast,
Hearing our manner of speech and converse high ?
What other beggar is so privileged ?
Tis wine, delicious wine, obscures thy mind,
As oft it injures whosoever drinks
Beyond right measure with too deep a draught.
’Twas wine that erst in great Pirithous’ hall
Blasted the Centaur, famed Eurytion ;
When on a visit to the Lapithz
He drowned his wits with wine, and in the house
Wrought evil of that frenzy, till, enraged,
The heroes, springing up, right through the porch
Haled him outside, and with a pitiless knife
Maimed him of ears and nostril. So, accursed,
Carrying that brand, and with a mind distraught,
He staggered homeward. Hence the feud arose
’Twixt mortal man and Centaurs, but of all
The first he suffered—for his drunkenness.

22
BOOK XxI.
305—334.

338 TO TRY THE BOW WHICH

And some such heavy trouble I forecast

On thee, if haply thou shouldst bend this bow.

For then no intercession would prevail

To save thee in this country from thy fate ;

But to King Echetus, the barbarous foe

Of all mankind, we would despatch thee off

On a swift galley ; thence is no escape.

Rest quiet therefore; drink thy fill; nor seek

A rivalry with younger, nobler men.”
But sage Penelope then interposed :

“ Antinous! ’Twere ungracious and unjust

To stint the guests Telemachus receives

Whoe’er they be that come into his house.

Believ’st thou, though this stranger should succeed,

Of the strong trust he putteth in his arm,

To bending of Odysseus’ mighty bow,

That therefore he will lead me to his home

And make of me his wife? Himself, I trow,

Hath no such hope within him. For this cause

Let none, who here holds revel, vex his soul ;

The thought is most unseemly—quite unmeet.”
To whom the son of Polybus replied:

‘Icarus’ daughter, wise Penelope!

We think not that this man will take thee home;

That were indeed unseemly. But we dread

For very shame the talk of women and men,

Lest some Achaian of the meaner sort

Should raise this cry against us: ‘ Lo, these men

Who court a blameless hero’s widowed wife,

Yet fall so far below him that they fail

To draw his polished bow ; to whom some chance

Brought a poor unknown vagrant who with ease

Drew it and sent his arrow through the blades!’
So might they say, and ours would be the shame.”
To whom the high-soul’d Queen Penelope:

“Eurymachus! Most surely those, who eat

The substance of another Chieftain up

And do him such dishonour, will not bear

A good repute amongst their fellowmen.

But wherefore count ye such disgrace herein ?

This stranger, tall of stature, large of build,
THE SWINEHERD PINALLY GIVES HIM 339

Of a right noble father boasts his birth. BOOK XXI.
Allow the bow, that we may see his strength. 335—365.
This prize I promise and will surely give.

If by Apollo’s grace he strings the bow,

Fair change of raiment I will give, a cloak

And tunic, and a javelin sharp withal

To save him from assault of dogs or men;

And I will gird him with a two-edged sword,

And send him whither he is fain to go.”

But sage Telemachus made answer then:
““My Mother, no Achaian Chief can claim
Rights above mine in dealing with this bow,
Whether I suffer or withhold its use;

Neither these lords of rugged Ithaca,

Nor those whose islands look upon the shore
Of pastoral Elis. If I chose outright

For his own wear to give it to my guest,
None could gainsay me nor constrain my will.
Go therefore to thy chambers and attend
Thy duties there, the distaff or the loom,

And lay their daily tasks upon thy maids.
Leave unto men the manage of the bow,

A care on all incumbent—most on me,

To whom the mastery of this house belongs.”
Awed by his voice her chamber she regained
And pondered in her heart her son’s wise words.

Anon thence mounting to the upper rooms
With tears amongst her handmaids she bewailed
Her dear lost lord Odysseus, till soft Sleep
Sent by bright-eyed Athene closed her lids.

But the good swineherd lifting up the bow
’Gan bear it onward; whereupon rose loud
Uproar from all the Suitors through the hall,
And youths amongst their haughty troop would say:
“« Swineherd, thou crazy-pated knave, desist !
Whither wouldst thou be carrying that crooked bow ?
Let but Apollo and immortal Gods
Grant us their favour, and the dogs thou bredst
To guard thy swine should soon devour thy bones
Thrown with no burial out of human ken!”
BOOK XxX.
366—394.

340 THE WOMEN ARE SHUT OFF THE HALLS

They shouted, and Eumezeus laid the bow
Down where he then had borne it, all in fear,
So loud the uproar ran throughout the hall.

But on the adverse side Telemachus,
Calling across the tumult, threatening spoke:

“Nay, my brave follower, bring the bow right on.
Twill boot thee little to obey all here ;

For, younger though I be, I yet in strength
Excel thee far, and may pursue thee hence

Into the country pelted back with stones.

Aye, would that I surpassed in might of arm
These wooers all united in my halls,

As much as I surpass thee; then, methinks,

I would despatch them headlong from the house
In a bad plight ; for they contrive me harm!”

He ended, and they all right merrily
Laughed at him, from their bitter wrath awhile
Relaxing. But the swineherd through the hall
Carried the bow, and drawing to the side
Of brave Odysseus placed it in his hands ;

Then called the nurse Euryclea forth, and said:

“ Euryclea, nurse discreet! Telemachus
Commands thee to make fast the firm-set doors
That close the women’s chambers, and, whate’er
The groaning or the uproar heard within
Proceeding from the men fenced up with us,
Enjoins thee, that no woman venture forth,

But all rest quiet at their proper tasks.”

He spoke ; reply hung wingless on her lip,

But straight she hasted to make fast the doors.

Secretly then Philzetius also leapt
Outside, and barred the well-fenced court-yard’s gates.
Under the corridor there chanced to lie
The hempen rope of some two-benchéd bark;
Therewith a second fastening he enwound,
And then re-entered, moving to the seat
Whence he had risen, but fixed his eyes intent
On brave Odysseus. He was handling now
The bow, and up and down, this way and that,
Turning and scanning it closely, lest perchance
ODYSSEUS STRINGS THE BOW 341

Weevils had during his absence bored the horn; BOOK XXI.

So that one chieftain to another said: 395—428.
“A covetous and cunning judge of bows!

Either, methinks, he hath the like at home,

Or he would fashion another just its match.

So carefully betwixt his hands he feels

That weapon—knavish vagrant as he is.”
Another of their haughty youths would say:

‘* May he but meet such pleasure in his life,

As he hath likelihood to draw that bow!”

They muttered thus amongst themselves; but, when
Sage Odyseus had balanced the great bow
And scanned it thoroughly, as a harp-player
Well-skilled in voice and music with all ease
Stretches around a new-fixed peg a chord,
Twining at either end the twisted gut, ©
So he without an effort strung the bow,
Then tried the string; full sweet the note it sang,
Clear-twittering like a swallow to his touch!
But on the Suitors fell great trouble, and change
Upon their cheeks, while with loud portent Zeus
Thundered, and much the hero’s heart rejoiced
That crook-wiled Kronos’ Son had sent that sign.
A swift-flying arrow, lying at his side
Naked upon the table, he took up,
Whilst stored within the hollow quiver lay
Others whereof the Achaians there were doomed
Anon to taste the sharpness. This he laid
To the bow’s handle, and drawing on the string
Its lips, and aiming, as he sate, right well
Before him, shot it forth. Through every axe,
Grating each handle’s tip, betwixt the curves
Of all the upright blades, the pointed shaft
Passed; and he called exultant to his son:

“Thy guest, Telemachus, admitted here,
Doth no discredit to his company.
I have not missed the mark; it taxed me not
To bend the bow; my strength is what it was.
Insulting such a man may cost them dear ;
For now, though yet ’tis daylight, comes the hour
BOOK XxXI.
430—435.

342 PERFORMS THE ARCHERY FEAT

To serve before the Achaian chiefs a meal,
Whereafter some sweet singing may ensue
And music, the fair crowns of lordly feast!”

He spoke, and nodded o’er his brows a sign.
And straight the noble hero’s son beloved
About his shoulders threw a sharp-edged sword,
Closed round a spear his fingers, and took stand
Arrayed in flashing armour * by his chair.

* xexopvOuevos aldom: xadkg. Telemachus has no defensive armour
on in the ensuing book until he fetches it—only a spear. Either
the poet has made a trifling slip, or some early rhapsodist, in reciting
this portion of the poem, has added this trait to complete the picture
at its close.
AND SHOOTS ANTINOUS DEAD 343

ODYSSEY XXII.

Tossing his rags from off him, up the step BOOK XXII.
Of the great threshold sprang the deep-wiled Chiet 1—28.
Odysseus, in his hand the bow and full
Of shafts the quiver. These before his feet
He poured, and thus amongst the Suitors spoke:

“This rueful sport is ended ; let me know
If haply I may hit another mark
That no man else hath struck before, and if
Apollo so vouchsafes me boundless fame”.

Speaking he aimed a bitter arrow straight
Against Antinous, then at point to lift
A beauteous double-handled golden cup
To drink the wine. No dread of death had he;

For who could e’er imagine in mid feast

That one man, howsoever great his strength,

Durst rise against so many, and bring down

Black fate and sudden slaughter on a foe?

But him Odysseus, aiming, with the shaft

Struck in the throat; right through the tender neck
The point passed ; to one side he fell, the cup
From his hand dropping; up his nostril gushed

In one thick jet the life-blood; and he thrust

The table from him with his foot, and spilt

The viands on the floor, with gore defiled.

The Suitors saw him fallen, and through the hall
Shrieked, leaping from their seats, perturb’d, and cast
Eyes panic-smitten round the well-built walls.
Seeing no shield nor mighty spear to seize,

With angry words they turned on Odyseus:

“ Evil, O Stranger, to thy cost this deed.
Man-shooter! Never will be thine to take
Another prize; thy death forthwith is sure.
BOOK XXII.
29—60.

344 EURYMACHUS BEGS FOR MERCY

He, whom thou thus hast slaughtered, of our youth
Was noblest; food to vultures thou shalt be.”

So they conjectured, deeming he had slain
Unwittingly the Chieftain. Fools! not knowing,
A chain of fell destruction held them all!
Odysseus, sternly eyeing them, replied :

“Vile Hounds! Who said that I should come no

more,

Returning from the Trojan’s city home:
For ye would plunder of its wealth my house,
Dishonour in your beds my women-slaves,
And meanly in my life-time court my wife,
Regarding not at all the Gods in heaven,
Neither repute of men in times to come!
The chain of fell destruction holds you all.”

He spoke ; a pale-faced panic seized their hearts ;
And each ’gan cast about him looks of dread
For place of refuge from the coming death.

Eurymachus alone made answer thus:
“Tf of a truth thou art the Ithacan,
Odysseus, thou hast made no false account
Of what the Achaians to thy hurt have wrought.
Many thy wrongs, both here within thy house,
And in the fields. But lo, the cause of all,
Antinois, already lieth slain:
’Twas he who launched us on these evil deeds,
Yet not so much desirous nor intent
Upon the marriage, as with other thoughts
(Whereto Kroneion no fulfilment gave),
That in some ambush he might slay thy child
And reign himself succeeding to thy throne
In well-built Ithaca. But see him now
Slain, to his true deserts! Be merciful
To thine own people; and we anon will raise,
By levy amongst us, all that hath been drunk
Or eaten in thy house, and add thereto
From each a separate fine of twenty beeves
In brass and gold to pay thee, till thy heart
Be softened: else, we may not blame thy wrath.”
Odysseus, sternly eyeing him, replied:
BUT IS SHOT DOWN LIKEWISE 345

“ Not though ye proffered each his heritage, BOOK XXII.
Both what ye now possess, Eurymachus, 61—92.
And what from other quarters ye might draw,
Not then from slaughter would I hold my hand
Ere for this whole transgression ye had paid
The uttermost atonement of your deaths.
Remains for you to meet me, face to face,
Or flee, if any so may shun his doom ;
Rather I deem there will be no escape!”
He spoke; their hearts and knees beneath them sank;
Eurymachus addressed them yet once more:
“This man, dear Comrades, never of himself
Will yield from yon invulnerable post,
But, having seized the advantage of the bow,
Will still from that smooth lofty threshold shoot
Till he hath slain us all—Nay, yield not thus,
Collect our hearts to battle, draw our swords,’
Against the death-wing’d arrows lift up high
The tables, and all united against him rush—
So haply from the threshold and the doors
To thrust him back until we make our way
Out to the city, whence most speedily
Would rise a cry for rescue: then perchance
This were the last time he would draw a bow!”
Speaking, he bared his brazen falchion, edged
On either side, and with a dreadful shout
Sprang straight upon him. But his noble foe
Even at that very moment sent a shaft ;
And the quick arrow near the nipple struck
His chest, and in the liver stood infixed ;
Earthward from out his hand he flung the sword
And fell, across a table sprawling wide,
Scattering the two-cupp’d goblet and the meats
Over the ground, while on the floor he dashed
His forehead, and disturbed with plunging feet
The chair, till mist came showered across his eyes.

On famed Odysseus next Amphinomus
Sprang charging with sword brandished, if perchance
Appalled he from the door would yield him place.
But from behind him Prince Telemachus
BOOK XxIl.
93—124.

346 TELEMACHUS FETCHES ARMOUR

Porestalling ’twixt the shoulders smote, and drave
The brazen lance right onward through the chest.
He fell, and on his forehead full and broad
Crashed to the ground: whereat the other sprang
Away, and in the body left the lance,
Bearing that, if he sought to draw it back,
One peradventure of the Achaian Chiefs
(As he leaned forward) unawares might leap
And wound or with sharp falchion hew him down.
Therefore with haste to his dear father’s side
He sped and near him spake these wingéd words:
“ My Father, I will fetch thee now a shield
With two long javelins and a brazen helm
To guard thy temples, and will go myself
To clothe me in like harness, and to give
The swineherd and yon neatherd arms beside.
Our plight were better, if in armour clad.”
Whom sage Odysseus answered thus, and said:
“ Haste thee to bring them, whilst I still have store
Of arrows to defend me at this post,
Lest from the doors they drive me, left alone ”.
He spoke; Telemachus obeyed his word,
And ran round to the chamber where he knew
The famous armour lay. Selecting thence
Four bucklers with eight lances and four helms
Horse-pluméd, wrought of brass, and carrying all
Quickly to his dear father he returned ;
Where first he sheathed himself, and in like wise
The two retainers clad them: so full-arm’d,
Around their wary Chieftain stood the three.

Whilst to defend him arrows still remained
So long he still stood shooting, striking down
One after other of the Suitors thronged
In his own hall; the slain fell on the slain.
But, when the arrows in the quiver failed,
Aslant toward the entry’s sunlit sides
Against a door-post of the well-built hall
He laid the bow, but threw a four-hide shield
Across his shoulders, placed a well-wrought helm
Horse-pluméd (and the plumes struck terror round)
MELANTHIUS DOES THE SAME 347

Above his stately head, and in his hands BOOK XXII.
Brandished two mighty lances, tipt with brass. 125—154.

There was a postern-door, with panels closed,

Along the topmost level of the plinth ,

Some height up in the well-built wall, with one

Approach thereto, but on the other side

Steps leading to the passage. Odyseus

Had bidden the faithful swineherd take his stand

Not far, and o’er it keep a heedful watch.

But Agelaus now took thought thereof,

And thus amongst them all declared his rede:
“Friends! Were it possible a man might pass

The postern to the townsfolk whence might rise

A cry for rescue? Peradventure, then,

This were the last time he would draw a bow!”’
Whom the goatherd Melanthius answered thus:

“ Zeus-nurtured Agelaus! In no wise

May this be done. Too perilously near

To the fair doors that lead into the court

The outlet of the passage, and too strait ;

One man of might could hold it against all.

Yet will I bring you weapons from within ;

For there, methinks, and nowhere else, the arms

Have in the inner armoury been laid

By great Odysseus and his glorious son.”
Melanthius spoke, and clambering up slipt through

The loop-hole window of the hall, and ran

Round to the inner chambers of the house ;

Whence bucklers twelve he took, as many spears,

As many horse-plumed helmets wrought of brass,

And by quick journeys brought them down, and gave

All to the Suitors; whom Odysseus marked

Donning the armour, shaking in their hands

The lances long, and felt his knees and heart

Give way—so terrible now the struggle seemed.

Therefore he turned and thus addressed his son:
“ Either some woman in the house, or else

Melanthius, makes the strife against us fierce”.
To whom the sage young Prince replied and said:

“The fault is mine, my father, I alone
BOOK XXII,
155—186,

348 THE TWO HERDSMEN LIE IN WAIT

The cause of this, who opened and so left

The armour-chamber’s well-adjusted doors.

Their watch hath been more heedful than mine own
But go, Eumzeus, close the door, and note

Whether it be some woman of the house,

Or (as I more suspect him) Dolius’ son,

Melanthius, who is doing this evil thing.”

Such was the commune they were holding there,
When for the chamber started once again
The goatherd, thence to fetch more armour bright.
The worthy swineherd marked him as he went,
And thus addressed Odysseus at his side:

‘“« Master of all resource, Laertes’ Son,
Zeus-born Odysseus! Tis that arrant knave
Whom we suspected and who now once more
Makes for the chamber ; tell me clearly this:
Shall I, if I prove stronger, slay him there,

Or drag him hither that before thine eyes

He may atone for all the countless wrongs,
The villain hath complotted in thy house ?”
Whom sage Odysseus answered thus, and said:

‘‘ However furiously the Suitors rage,
Telemachus and I are strong to hold
Their haughty troop within the hall enclosed.

But go ye two, and throw him in the room ;
Twist back his feet and hands, and to a board
Truss them behind; a plaited rope then sling
About his body, and up a column high

Draw him till he is near the rafter-beams.

So leave him in that torment lingering on.”

He spoke ; to whom they hearkened, nothing loth ;
And to the chamber made their way, unseen
By him within it. In a corner he
Stooped groping for more arms, whilst they without
On either side the doorposts stood in wait.

Anon he crossed the threshold, in one hand
Carrying a helmet, in the other a targe

Old-worn, with rust begrimed, which in his youth
Laertes, the brave hero, oftest used ;

But now it long had lain there, and the seams
About its thongs had loosened. On him straight
CATCH AND TIE UP MELANTHIUS 349

Springing, the two so caught him, by the curls BOOK XXII.
Dragged him inside, and threw him on the floor Wee ae
Chafing at heart; then with a grievous bond
Bound hands and feet together twisted back
Behind him (as their long-enduring Lord
Had bidden), and slung a plaited rope around
His body, and drew it up a column high,
Till he was neighboured to the rafter-beams ;
Whom thou, Eumzus, taunting, thus addressed :
“Stretched on a soft bed, as befits thee well,
Melanthius, thou wilt keep good watch to-night ;
Nor will the gold-throned Daughter of the mist
Rise out of Ocean’s streams unmarked by thee,
When ‘tis thy usual wont to bring fat goats
To furnish for the Suitors ample feast”.
Swooning in torturing bonds they left him there,
Re-donned their arms, and closed the glittering door,
Returning to their noble wary Chief.

So each against the other took their stand,
Four men upon the threshold on one side,
But, adverse, many a warrior in the hall.

The Child of Zeus, Athene, then approached,
Guised like to Mentor as to form and voice,
In whom Odysseus much rejoiced, and said:
“Mentor, assist me to repel this curse,
Remembering thy dear comrade, of an age
Like to thine own, and all my kindly deeds”.
So spake he, though believing him to be
Pallas, Enkindler of men’s hearts to war.
Adverse, the Suitors shouted from the hall:
“Let not Odysseus, Mentor, guile thy mind
Against us in his own defence to fight:
For this our purpose shall be brought to pass.
When we have slain them, son and sire alike,
Thou too shalt perish with them for the wrong
Thou darest attempt to wreak us in this hall;
Yea, thine own life shall be the fine thereof.
And, when our swords have reft thee of thy breath,
Thy substance, both whatever in thy house
BOOK XXII.
221—252.

350 ATHENE APPEARING AS MENTOR

Thou ownest and whatever in the fields,
Into the same lot with Odysseus’ wealth
Shall all be confiscate ; nor will thy sons
Or daughters then be suffered to abide
Within their dwellings, nor thy noble wife
To commune with the town of Ithaca.”

He ended; but Athene, waxing more
In anger, chid Odysseus thus, and spoke :

“Not this the steadfast courage nor the strength
Wherewith for nine long years unceasingly
Slaughtering full many a foe in dire affray
Thou battledst with the Trojans, till at last
Priam’s great city by thy counsels fell!

Why therefore, when returning thou hast gained
Thy home and substance, dost thou grudge to show
The mighty man thou art? Nay, on with me,
Cleave to my side, behold me at the work,

And learn how Mentor son of Alcimus

Requites thy kindly deeds upon thy foes!”

She spoke,. but would not yet incline the scale
Of victory wholly in his favour, still
Intending further trial of the strength
Odysseus and his glorious son could show ;
Therefore in likeness of a swallow sprang
Upward, and on a rafter of the roof
Perched, in the glowing smoke.

Damastor’s son
Brave Agelaus, and Eurynomus,
Amphimedon, and Demoptolemus,
Pisander, and the noble Polybus
Polyctor’s child, now kindled to the fray
The Suitors’ hearts; for these the bravest were
Of those left living, battling for their lives :
The bow and volleying shafts had slain the rest.
And Agelaus thus declared his rede:

‘Por lack of arrows now this man will stay
His slaughterous hand; with idly-spoken vaunt
Mentor hath gone; and these are left alone,
Four only, at the doorway. Not at once
Let all discharge their javelins, but let six
Amongst us first take aim. So haply Zeus
DIVERTS THE SUITORS’ SPEARS 351

May grant the great Odysseus to be struck, BOOK XXII.
And unto us the glory of his death; 253-284.
If he be slain, we reck not of the rest.”
He spoke, and, as he bade, they threw their spears
Eager to kill him ; but Athene made
Of no effect the javelins ; one would strike
A door-post of the deeply-founded house ;
Another on the firm-adjusted gates ;
The heavy-metalled ash-spear of a third
Stuck in the wall. And, when Odysseus saw
How they had all escaped the enemy’s throw,
From his deep long-enduring heart he said:
“ Now, Comrades, I enjoin you, in our turn
Aim at these misproud Suitors, all intent
To crown their past misdeeds by murdering us”’.
He ended, and they launched their sharp-tipt spears
Aiming right well before them. Odyseus
Slew Demoptolemus ; Telemachus
Euryades ; the swineherd Elatus;
The neatherd Prince Pisander. All these four
Together bit the earth for agony.
The Suitors to a corner then retired,
While from the bodies they regained their spears.

A second time the Suitors hurled their darts
Eager to kill him; but Athene made
Of no effect the javelins ; one would strike
A door-post of the deeply-founded house ;
Another on the firm-adjusted gates ;
The heavy-metalled ash-spear of a third
Stuck in the wall. Amphimedon alone
Touched, wounding on the wrist Telemachus
Lightly ; the weapon only grazed the skin.
Ctesippus on the shoulder o’er the shield
With long lance scratched Philztius, but it flew
Beyond him, dashing harmless on the earth.
Anon around their noble-hearted Lord
Into the throng the others sent their spears.
Then by Odysseus’ city-conquering arm
Eurydamas, and by Telemachus
Amphimedon, and by the swineherd fell
BOOK XXII.
285—315.

352 THE SUITORS ARE SLAUGHTERED

Polybus ; but the neatherd through the chest
Striking Ctesippus, vaunting o’er him, cried ;

“Too prone to gibing, Polytherses’ Son !

Yet let no man, to rashness yielding, speak
Loudly ; but unto Gods commit thy prayer,
For they are mightier to fulfil thy wish.
Accept thou this our token to requite

The ox-foot to Odysseus given by thee,

When in the hall he played the beggar’s part.”

So spoke the hornéd cattle’s overseer.

But hand to hand Odysseus next struck down
With a long spear and slew Damastor’s son ;
Telemachus with lance-point in the belt
Piercing Evenor’s son Leocritus
Drave on the weapon through the body, and prone
He fell, with full broad forehead striking ground.
High on the roof Athene then at last |
Outspread the deadly gis: all their hearts
Were fluttered ; panic-smitten to and fro
They ran, like grazing cattle round and round,
In summer season when the days grow long,
Maddening beneath the hovering gad-fly’s sting ;
But, as when vultures swoop, strong-claw’d, hook-beaked,
Down from the mountains on a flight of birds,
Cowering from underneath the clouds to earth
Along the ground these scurry, where their foes
Rend them at will; no refuge there, no strength
To struggle ; with delight men watch the sport ; *
So charging on the Suitors through the hall
The four smote, right and left; and hideous rose
The groaning of the wounded ; all the floor
Reeked with their blood.

But at Odysseus’ knees
Leiodes caught and thus beseeching said:

‘“‘T clasp thy knees, Odysseus; Oh take ruth
And spare me! I may plead that in thy house
By act or word no insult have I done
To any woman—nay, would ofttimes stay
Whoever of the Suitors wrought such wrong.

*The parallel to this detail in the simile lies in the attitude of
Athene.
PHEMIUS AND MEDON SPARED 353

They hearkened not my voice, and would not hold BOOK XXII.
Their hands from evil; therefore for their sins 316—349.
On their own heads have drawn unlovely fate.
I was their augur only, and I did
No evil, yet must perish even as they:
No gratitude attends on righteous deed!”
Odysseus sternly eyeing him replied:
“Tis thine own boast their augur to have been;
And thou must oft have prayed that from me far
The consummation of desired return
Might long remain, and my true wife might pass
Into thy house, and yield thee children there:
This will not save thee from the bed of death”.
Speaking he caught up in broad hand the sword
That Agelaus in his agony
Had off him flung, then lying on the ground,
Wherewith he clove his slender neck right through ;
Ere he could speak, his head was in the dust.

But Phemius, Terpeus’ son, the bard who sang
By sore constraint amongst the Suitors, still
Was standing near the postern, lyre in hand,
Doubting, as one who would escape black Fate,
Whether he now should slip from out the hall
A suppliant to the altar of great Zeus
Reared in the court, and sacred to the Hearth
(Where ’twas Laertes’ and Odysseus’ wont
To make burnt-offerings of the thighs of bulls)—
Or whether at the Hero’s knees to fall
Imploring mercy. This the better seemed
To make his supplication. Therefore, ’twixt
The great vase and the silver-studded throne
He laid upon the ground his hollow lyre,

Then forward springing seized Odysseus’ knees
And spoke, with wingéd words beseeching thus:

“T clasp thy knees, Odysseus. Oh take ruth
And spare me! Else hereafter to thyself
Remorse will follow, shouldst thou slay a bard,
Who sings lays gracious both to Gods and men.
Singing before thee, I may deem I sing
Before a God: restrain thee from my death.

23
BOOK XXII.
350—384.

354 WARNING TO MEDON

Telemachus thy well-belovéd son

Will bear me witness, that with no foul aim

Nor of my own good pleasure in thy house

I mingled with the Suitors after feast

To sing before them, but of sore constraint

Compelled by both their numbers and their strength.”
The youthful might of brave Telemachus

Heard him, and to his father straight he said:
“Restrain thee ; he is guiltless ; strike him not.

Also the herald Medon we will spare

Who kindly in my childhood brought me up;

If by Philzetius or the swineherd he

Hath not been slain already, nor perchance

Hath crossed thee in thine onset through the hall.”
He spoke; and prudent Medon overheard

Where he lay crouching underneath the throne,

A late-flayed ox-skin round him, like a man

Hiding from Fate. Stripping this off, he rose

And forward springing caught the Prince’s knees,

And thus with wingéd words beseeching said :
““Nay, my beloved, behold me standing here !

Thyself hold back, and bid thy father cease,

Lest he should smite me, exultant in his strength

And wroth against the Suitors, that they robbed

His household, nor (O Fools!) regarded thee.”’
On whom deep-soul’d Odysseus smiled, and said:

“Be cheered; my son’s protection saves thy life.

So learn, and unto others tell the same,

How righteousness prevails o’er evil deed.

Clear of this slaughter to the court-yard go,

Thou and the songful bard, and rest you there,

Whilst I complete the needful work within.”
He spoke, and both together going forth

Took seat before the altar of great Zeus,

Still casting all around them looks of dread,

As still expectant of impending death.

Odysseus then searched prying through the hall
If any of his foes lay still concealed,
Black Fate avoiding. Strewn in mire and blood
He found them ali, in numbers like to fish
EURYCLEA SUMMONED FORTH 355

Which fishers from the foam-edged deep have drawn BOOK XXII.
In a net’s meshes to a curven beach, 385—420.
Panting for water, thrown up on the sands,
Till the bright Sun bereaves them of their breath;
So one on other heaped the Suitors lay.
Then turning to Telemachus he said:
“* My son, call forth the nurse Euryclea ;
That I may give her what is now my hest”’.
He spoke ; obedient to his father’s word
Telemachus approaching shook the door
And, calling, thus addressed Euryclea:
“ Arouse thee, ancient matron, who art set
To superintend the handmaids of our house,
And come; my father calls thee on some hest”’.
He spoke; reply hung wingless on het lip,
But quick she oped the numerous household’s door,
And, guided by Telemachus, stepped forth.

She found Odysseus smeared with blood and mire,
Standing above the bodies of the slain.
Even as a lion off an ox devour’d
Moves with broad chest and either jaw blood-stain’d,
A sight terrific ; such, with feet and hands
Blood-stain’d, Odysseus showed. And, when she saw
The dreadful pools of blood, she drew her up
As for a cry triumphant o’er the deed
She saw accomplish’d. But Odysseus stayed
Her ardour, and addressed these wingéd words:
“Nay, hold thee, agéd Dame; within thy heart
Constrain thy joy, nor lift too loud thy voice.
Such exultation o’er these slaughtered men
Were an unholy thing: for by the Gods
And by their own insufferable deeds
They lie subdued. No mortal man they held,
Who came amongst them, whether rich or poor,
In due regard, and therefore for their sins
On their own heads have drawn unlovely Fate.
But now inform me of the women, who
Do me dishonour, who have no offence.”
And the dear nurse Euryclea made reply:
“ My child, concerning this I tell thee true.
BOOK XXII.
421—456.

356 CALLS OUT TWELVE GUILTY WOMEN

Fifty the women native in thy halls

Whom we have taught their tasks, to card the wool,

And to endure the service of the house.

Of these have twelve embark’d them on a course

Of utter shame, regarding neither me

Nor ev’n their queen Penelope’s commands.

Telemachus was yet a growing youth

Till lately, neither would Penelope

Permit him to give order to these maids.

But let me take these tidings to thy wife

Ascending to the smooth-wall’d upper rooms ;

Some heavenly Power hath lulled her into sleep.”’
To whom in answer sage Odysseus said :

“Not yet awake her; rather order first

Those women, who were guilty, now to come”.
He spoke ; the dame departed from the hall

To tell the women and to speed them forth.

But he then summoned to his side the Prince,
The neatherd, and the swineherd, and he said:

‘‘ Begin ye quick to carry forth these dead,
And make the women help, and cleanse anon
With water and fine-pierced sponges the fair thrones
And tables here. But, when the hall is ranged,
Lead out the women to some spot betwixt
The round-house and the fair court’s colonnade,
And slay them by your long edged swords, till life
Leaves them, and into oblivion pass their joys
Of Aphrodite in the Suitors’ arms!”

He ended; all the twelve arrived ere long
Together, shedding tears, and wailing loud.
They carried first the bodies outside; and these
(Leaning them one against the other) they placed
Under the corridor of the fencéd court.
Thereto Odysseus urged them on himself,
Ordering; and they obeyed by dire constraint.
Then to the tables and fair thrones they turned,
With water and fine-pierced sponges cleansing all.
With hoes the Prince and herdsmen scraped the floor,
And out of doors the maids removed the filth.
When the whole hall in order due was ranged,
WHO ARE“KILLED WITH MELANTHIUS 357

Outside they took the women to the strait BOOK XXII.
Betwixt the round-house and the colonnade, 457—489.
Penning them close, whence could be no escape.
And there Telemachus beginning spoke :
“Far be from these an honourable death,
Who on my mother’s head and on myself
Have brought such foul dishonour and have lain
Nightly embracing in the Suitors’ arms!”
Speaking, the cable of a dark-prowed ship
Fast from a pillar of the corridor
He looped about the round-house’ pointed roof.
And drew it tight across the strait, aloft
Lest any with her feet should touch the ground,
And strung them up. As doves or thrushes plunge
Into a springe within a thicket, where
For roost they enter, but the nest is death ;
So in one line with nodding heads they hung
From nooses round their necks to speed their end,
With feet no long while quivering ere they died. —

Melanthius next along the porch and court
They hurried and with pitiless knife cropt off
His nose and ears, and tearing out his bowels
Dispersed them to be eaten raw by dogs,
And wrathful lopped away his hands and feet.

Thence to Odysseus resting in the hall
With washen hands and feet they went, and stood
Beside him ; and the Vengeance was complete.

To the dear nurse Eurycléa he said:
“ Bring sulphur, Dame, pollution’s purge, and fire
To purify with incense all the house.
Then summon with her maids Penelope,
And let the other women now descend.”’
Whom the dear nurse Euryclea answering said:
“My child, to order well thy words accord.
But let me bring a tunic and a cloak
To clothe thee; stand not in these ragged clouts;
So to remain were quite unseemly now.”
To whom deep-wiled Odysseus made reply:
BOOK XXII.
490—501.

358 THE OTHERS WELCOME THEIR MASTER

“Nay, let the fire be first of all brought here”’.
He spoke; the nurse Eurycléa obeyed

And brought the fire and sulphur, wherewithal

Odysseus purged by incense all the house,

Both court and chamber, and the well-built hall.

Again the dame departed through the house
To tell the women and to speed them forth.
With torches in their hands they hasted down
And, throwing themselves about Odysseus, kissed
Fondly his head and shoulders, to their lips
Raising his hands: the yearning of lament
Came sweet upon him, for he knew them true.
EURYCLEA WAKES PENELOPE 359

ODYSSEY XXIII.

Into the upper chamber passed meanwhile BOOK XXIII.
The nurse to tell her lady, how her lord 1—23.
Was in the house ; and for her glee her limbs
Moved fast beneath her and her feet trod light.*
Standing above her pillow, she began:
“Penelope, awake thee, dear my child!
That with thine eyes thou mayst behold and see
What thou art vainly hoping all thy days.
Late though it be, Odysseus hath returned
And slain the insolent Suitors who consumed
His substance, robbed his house, and wronged his son.”
To her the high-soul’d Queen Penelope:
“The Gods have reft thee of thy wits, dear Nurse:
They render even a wise man like a fool;
They guide the lightly-minded, if they list,
Into the paths of prudence; and they now
Have fooled thee, though of mind discreet before.
Why wouldst thou mock me, wretched as I am,
With this false tale? Why wake me from the sleep
Delicious, that had bound my eyelids fast ?
I had not slept so deeply since the day
Odysseus sailed for Ilion—ah, that name
Accurséd! Get thee therefore hence ; depart ;
For, had another of my women come
To tell me this and wake me from my sleep,
Pull roughly I had driven her to her room.

* yotvata 8 éppdaavto wédes 3° brepixratvovro. I see no sufficient
reason for taking the last word in the sense of stumbling, or drawing
the unhomeric contrast between yovvara and mdédes in the sense—-“‘ her
knees moved quickly but her feet stumbled”. twepixralvovto only
means ‘moved unusually fast,” and the meaning is that her high
spirits for the moment repaired the infirmities of age.
BOOK XXIII.
24—60.

360 WHO DISBELIEVES HER STORY

Thank thy old age that thou art privileged!”
Whom the dear nurse Euryclea answering said:

“T mock thee not, dear child; in veriest truth
Odysseus, as I say, is in the house,

That self-same stranger whom they all despised.
Telemachus alone some while ago

Knew him, but kept his father’s secret close,
Por caution, till he venged him on his foe.”

She spoke ; the Queen, rejoicing, off her bed
Sprang up, and round the nurse entwined her arms,
Dropping a tear, and spake these wingéd words:

“Inform me this, dear nurse, and tell me all.
If of a truth he hath arrived to home,

How on the shameless Suitors hath he put
His mighty hands, being one alone, but they
Would ever in full force remain within ?”

Whom the dear nurse Euryclea answering said:
“T saw it not, | asked not, only heard
The groaning of the slaughtered. For we sate
Astonied, in the inmost chamber shut,

And the firm-fitted panels closed us off,

Till from the hall outside Telemachus
Summoned me, as his father gave command.
Then standing o’er the bodies of the slain

I found Odysseus, on the trampled floor

The Wooers one on other lying bestrewn ;

To see that sight had comforted thy heart!
Now at the court-yard’s edge about the gates
In heaps they lie, while at a blazing fire

He purifies with sulphur the fair house.

Hither to tell thee he hath sent me on;

Follow me quick, that after all your woes

Ye both may give your hearts to unchecked joy.
Our long protracted hopes are brought to pass ;
At his own hearth he stands alive and hale;

He finds thee and thy son at home unscathed ;
And on the Suitors who were doing him wrong
Hath venged him by their slaughter in his hall!”

To whom the high-soul’d Queen Penelope:
“Raise not this shout of triumph, nurse, too soon.
To all how welcome he would reappear
BUT DESCENDS TO THE HALL 361

And most to me and our begotten son, BOOK XXIII.
Full well thou knowst ; but as thou tellst the tale 61—93.
This hath not happened. Rather say, some God
Wroth for their pride presumptuous and misdeeds
Hath slain the Suitors ; who in no regard
Held any mortal, whether rich or poor,
And therefore for their crime have suffered harm.
Far, far away, Odysseus still remains,
Bereft of sweet return and life alike!”
Whom the dear nurse Euryclea answering said:
“ My child, what word hath flown thy teeth’s white fence ?
Who, with thy husband standing at his hearth,
Wouldst still deny him all return to home,
Mistrustful now as ever! Hear me yet;
Another proof | give thee ev'n more clear.
That scar, which once with gleaming tusk a boar
Gave him, I noted when I washed his feet,
And straight was fain to cry it unto thee ;
But, of the crafty counsels in his mind,
He gripped my throat, nor suffered me to speak.
Follow me therefore ; I will stake my life,
And let thee kill me by the worst of deaths,
If I be found to have deceived herein.”
To whom the high-soul’d Queen Penelope:
“ Dear Nurse, however great thy wisdom seems,
It were a task beyond thee far to fathom
The hidden purposes of heavenly Gods.
Yet will I seek my son, that I may look
On the slain Suitors and their unknown Slayer.”
So speaking from the upper chambers she
Descended, much revolving in her heart,
Should she stand off and question so the man,
Or should she drawing nigh enclasp and kiss
His head and hands? But, when she stept across
The threshold-stone and entered, face to face
Before Odysseus in the fire’s bright blaze
At the other wall she took her seat, whilst he
Against a lofty pillar likewise leaned
With downcast eyes, awaiting curiously
If his brave Queen, beholding him, would speak.
But o’er her heart came such bewilderment
BOOK XXIII.
94—122.

362 TELEMACHUS REPROACHING HER

That long she sate in silence, and at times
Would deem him by his feature like her lord,
As in his face she looked, and then anon
Would know him not, in that foul raiment clad.

To whom Telemachus, rebukeful, said:
‘Mother, but most unmotherly, in mood
Ungentle shown! O wherefore art thou still
Withdrawn from my dear father, at his side
Not sitting, nor of fond inquiry full ?

There lives no other woman in this world

Who from her husband thus impassively

Would stand removed, when in the twentieth year
Of absence and long sufferings he returned

Home to his native land restored at last!

Hard and more stubborn than a stone thy heart.”

To whom the high-soul’d Queen Penelope :

“‘ My heart is all astounded in my breast,
Dear Child; I cannot speak or ask of aught
Nor raise my eyes to look him in the face.
But if in very truth he be my lord,
Odysseus, now at last restored to home,
Rest sure that each the other will perceive
Better than by assertion; for we keep
Tokens betwixt us, hidden from the world.”

She spoke ; the noble toil-worn Hero smiled,
With wingéd words addressing thus his son:

“Telemachus, allow thy mother leave
To test me as she lists; she soon will form
A better judgment: she contemns me now,
Grimed as I am, and in these loathly weeds,
And therefore still denies that I am he.
Consider rather how to close this feud.

For well thou knowest that, when a man has slain
Another of his tribesmen, though the slain

Be one man only and though few be left

To avenge him, yet he flees from kith and kin
Exiléd from his country for that feud:

And those, whom we have slain, a bulwark were
To Ithaca, the flower of all her youth.

Against this danger give thy careful heed.”
IS CHECKED BY ODYSSEUS 363

To whom the sage young Prince replying said : BOOK XXIII.
“ Nay, look to this, dear Father, thine own self. 123—158.
For greatest amongst men thy name is held
For wisdom ; none may vie with thee therein.
With our whole hearts we follow where thou leadst,
Nor blench, so far as in us lies the strength.”
Deep-wiled Odysseus thus in answer said:
“Therefore | tell thee what I deem is best.
Be washed, and throw white tunics round your limbs,
And let the handmaids likewise don their own.
And let a godlike minstrel, lyre in hand,
Lead off before us all a festive dance;
That whosoe’er may hear the sound thereof,
A passer-by, or neighbour of the house,
May say there is a marriage-feast within.
Else haply through the city wide may go
Some rumour of the Suitors’ slaughter, ere
We can betake us to our farm outside
And covert of its woods, and there receive
What profitable counsel Zeus may prompt.”
He spoke ; they heard, and, nothing loth, obeyed.

They washed them first, and threw white tunics on,
The while the women donned apparel gay.

A godlike bard took up a hollow lute
Kindling in every heart a fond desire

Of sweet-toned music and a faultless dance.
The whole house rang and echoed to the feet
Of men and fair-zoned women in their sport.
Whoever heard outside would pause and say:

“One of her many Wooers weds our Queen.
Heartless, who could not wait throughout, and guard
The household, till her wedded lord returned!”

They spoke, not knowing what had come to pass.

Meanwhile the chamber’s maid Eurynome
Bathed and with oil anointed in his house
Her mighty Chief Odysseus. Then she threw
A tunic and rich mantle o’er his neck,

Whilst from his head Athene shed a grace
Of beauty about him. As a craftsman, taught
BOOK XXIII.
159—191.

364 THE TEST OF THE BEDSTEAD

By Pallas and Hephestus skill supreme
In every art, on silver layeth gold,
A precious work completing; such the grace
The Goddess o’er his head and shoulders shed.
Like an Immortal, from the bath he moved
And on the settle, whence he rose, took seat
Before his wife, and spoke again, and said :
“In thee, strange wife, beyond a woman’s wont
The Gods who on Olympus dwell in bliss
Have lodged a heart to all impression dead.
There lives no other woman in this world
Who from her husband thus impassively
Would stand aloof when in the twentieth year
Of absence and long sufferings he returned
Home to his native land restored at last.
Haste then, good matron, and bestrew a bed,
That uncompanioned I may lay me down:
Of iron is the heart within her breast.”
To whom the high-soul’d Queen Penelope:
“T neither magnify my own estate,
Neither contemn thee, marvellous Man, at all,
Nor now am lost in wonder: for I know
Right well, what manner of man thou wast, when first
Thy ship from Ithaca they rowed away.
Haste then, Euryclea, bring the bedstead forth
Outside the chamber that he built so firm ;
Bring it outside, and bedding throw thereon,
Fleeces, and mantles, and rich broidered quilts.”
She spoke, to test her husband; deeply moved,
He turned on his pure-minded wife, and said:
“My Wife, this word thou utterest breaks my heart.
Who to my hurt hath moved that bed elsewhere ?
That were no easy task, unless a God
Descending by his power transplanted it.
Certés no man, though in his flower of life,
Without long toil could move it. In that bed’s
Fine framework a great token lies concealed,
Wrought by me only and by none beside.
Within our fencéd circuit chanced to spring
A leaf-topp’d stem of olive, in its prime
Flowering, and of a column’s thickness grown.
SHE RECOGNISES HER HUSBAND — 365

I cast the deep foundations of the room BOOK XXIII.
Round this, and builded, till it stood complete 192—224.
With close-laid stones, and roofed it well above,
And added firm-adjusted hingéd doors.
The leafy top and foliage of the tree
I next lopt off, and upward from the root
I pared the trunk away and planed it smooth,
In cunning workman’s fashion with mine adze
Making the main-post, straightening it by line,
And bored it with a wimble through and through.
Beginning thence, I fixed the polished frame,
With silver, gold and ivory adorned,
And plaited it with scarlet straps across.
This token thus I tell; but whether, wife,
The bedstead still remaineth as it stood,
I know not; nor if now some other man
Hath moved it, cutting at the olive’s roots.”
He spoke; her knees and heart together sank,
Por recognition of the signs declared
So surely by Odysseus: all in tears,
Towards him straight she ran, and round his neck
Flung her white arms, and kissed his head, and spake:
“ Odysseus, be not angered with me—thou,
Who in all things wast wisest, most of men.
The Gods, the Gods inflicted all our woes ;
For that they grudged that by each other’s side
Abiding we should taste the flower of life,
Till on the threshold-step of death we stood
Together. Be not wroth, nor take it ill
That I enclasped thee not in this embrace
When first I saw thee. Deep within my breast
My heart would ever shudder, lest perchance
Some stranger should seduce me with his tales,
As many there be who plot such gainful frauds.
Neither would Argive Helen, Child of Zeus,
Have yielded to a stranger, had she known
The warlike offspring of the Achaians bent
To bring her to her native land again.
Nay, ’twas the Goddess who inspired her sin ;
She never nursed unseemly lusts before ;
And all our misery flowed from that same source.
BOOK XXIII.

225—257.

366 HE TELLS HER THE FURTHER TRIAL

But since thou hast so manifestly told

The secret of our bed, which thou and |

Knew only, and that one woman, Actor’s child,
The sole door-keeper of that chamber, sent

By mine own father with me when I came—
Thou winn’st me, all ungentle though I be!”

She ended, and within him roused the more
Yearning of lamentation; weeping still,

He clasped between his arms his pure-soul’d wife.
As land to swimmers shows most welcome, when
Poseidon out in open sea hath crushed

Their well-built galley under stress of wind

And ponderous wave ; but from the foam-white deep
Some few by swimming have escaped to shore

With salt-encrusted skin and panting breath ;

In glee they tread the ground, scarce saved from fate ;
So welcome to the wife her husband showed,

As in his eyes she looked, nor yet would loose

Her white arms for one moment off his neck.
Rose-fingered Morning had arisen anon

And found them still united in lament,

Had not the bright-eyed Power Athene planned
Another service; on the verge of earth

Prolonging night, She checked gold-thronéd Dawn
On Ocean’s streams, nor suffered her to yoke
Lampus and Phaethon, the steeds that draw

Her chariot, and to mortal men bring light:

Then sage Odysseus to his wife began:

«Alas, dear Wife, we have not yet attained
Our term of trials; in the future looms
A task beyond all measure long and hard,

That I must needs fulfil. Teiresias’ Shade
Told me this on the day when I descended
Into the house of Hades, there to seek

Help for my comrades’ and my own return.
Come therefore to our bed, and find at least
Some momentary joy in Slumber’s charm.”

To whom the high-soul’d Queen Penelope:
“Verily, since the Gods have brought thee safe
To thy well-builded house and native land,
Whene’er thy heart desires it, let us rest.
PORETOLD BY TEIRESIAS 367

Yet since some God hath thrown across thy lips BOOK XXIII,

This further trial, tell me more thereof; 258—289.

Methinks, hereafter I shall hear it told,

Therefore forthwith to hear it were no worse.”
To whom in answer sage Odysseus said:

“Ah, wherefore, Wife, too instant to demand

This knowledge ? I will tell thee as thou bidst

Without concealment ; yet ‘twill bring thy heart

No comfort, nor may I rejoice therein.

For the commandment is that I should start

On a long travel through the abodes of men

Carrying an oar, blade upward, till I come

On men that know not of the sea nor eat

Salt mingled with their food nor e’er have seen

Réd-ribbéd galleys nor well-furnished oars

That are as wings to galleys. This the sign

That I have reached them, clearly told by him,

Which I reveal as clearly. When a man

Meeting my path exclaims, Thou bearst a flail

Across an arméd shoulder! On that spot

He bids me plant the oar and dedicate

An altar with the three-fold sacrifice

Of a black bull, a ram, and lusty boar

To King Poseidon ; thence returning home

He bids me offer hallowed hecatombs

To all the Immortals habitant in heaven

One after other: so shall Death at last

Arising from the sea in gentle guise

Take me in ripe old age, and round me all

My people shall be blesséd. These his words.”
To whom the high-soul’d Queen Penelope:

“If to thy life this happier close be given,

To thine old age at least the Gods allow

Good hope of some safe refuge from thine ills ”.
Thus with each other these their converse held.

Meantime Euryclea and Eurynomé
By flaming torch-light made with raiment soft
A bedding ; and when by labour of their hands
The bed was strewn, the agéd Nurse to rest
Departed, whilst the other, torch in hand,
BOOK XXIII.
290—323.

368 AFTERWARDS IN THEIR BED

Preceded moving toward the couch the twain,
And, having ushered both within the room,
Departed also. Full of joy they passed

Into the precinct of their ancient bed:

The while the herdsmen and Telemachus

Ceased from the dance, and bade the women cease
And laid them down along the dusky hall.

After full joyance of their mutual love
To gentle converse turned the twain, and told
Each other—She, the flower of women, how
She long had suffered in the house, to see
The accurséd throng of Wooers for her sake
Slaughtering fat sheep and oxen many a day,
And draining from the casks the wine in floods:
But he—the Zeus-born Hero—all the woes
On men inflicted by his hand, and all
That he himself had with much pain endured—
He told her all, and She in deep delight
Would listen, neither on her eyelids sleep
Settled, before he ended all his tale.

For he began how first he had subdued
The Cicons, and thereafter sailing reached
The Lotos-eaters in a fertile land ;
What things the Cyclops did, and how he wrung
Full vengeance from him for the comrades brave
Of whom without remorse he made his meal;
And of the visit paid to AZolus,
His hearty welcome and safe convoy thence,
But how his fate not then allowed return
To his own country, but a tempest caught
And hurried him in sore distress again
Across a teeming sea: how next he came
To distant Lestrygonia, where his ships
And all his arméd company were lost:
The magic arts of Circe and her wiles
He told at large, and how he adventured thence
On his swift ship to Hades’ dismal realm,
From the sage Theban seer Teiresias’ Shade
Seeking an oracle, and there beheld
HE RELATES HIS ADVENTURES 369

His warlike comrades and his mother dear BOOK XXUI.
Who bare and nursed him in his infancy: 324—353.
How next he heard the Sirens’ tuneful song,

And then arrived upon the Roaming Rocks,
Charybdis dire, and Scylla, from whose sight

No mortal men have ever passed unscathed:

And how the cattle of the Sun were slain

By his rash crew, and thunder-wielding Zeus

Had therefore with a sulphurous bolt from heaven
Smitten his bark, and all his gallant men

Had perished thus together ; he alone

Escaping that fell Fate arrived the isle

Ogygia, the fair Nymph Calypso’s home:

And how, detaining him to be her mate,

She in her hollow grots would promise oft
Immortal and unaging all his days

To make him, yet not once so turned his heart:
How, after sorest trouble, last he reached

The court of the Phzeacians, whose great lords
Had with exceeding honour like a God

Cherished and with the escort of their ship
Conveyed him to his own dear native land

With largess of rich raiment, brass, and gold.
Ev’n as he closed with this last word his tale,
Sweet Slumber, loosening from his heart all care,
Fell on him and relaxed his limbs in rest.

But sparkling-eyed Athene then took thought

Of yet another service to the twain.

Soon as She counted in her own deep heart

That now the hero had enjoyed enough

Of dalliance with his spouse and slumber soft,
Straightway from Ocean’s brink She summoned up
The gold-throned Daughter of the mist to bring
Light unto men: and from his well-strewn bed
Springing, Odysseus thus addressed his wife:

“ Enough of trials we have both endured,
Dear Wife, till now ; thou still lamenting here
For this my sorrow-laden sad return,

While Zeus and other Gods would ever raise
Impediments to keep me from my home.
24
BOOK XXIII.
354—372.

370 AND NEXT DAY STARTS FOR LAERTES

But now together we have lain once more.
Of my possessions therefore, that remain
Safe in my house, resign the charge anon ;
But, for the damage done amongst my flocks
By the proud Suitors—I can well make good
The most by foray ; of their own accord
The Achaian islanders will give the rest,
Till all our folds be crowded as before.
But first to my well-wooded farm I go
To visit my brave father, who, methinks,
Dwells there in sore distress. To thee, my Wife
(Though shrewd to need no bidding), 1 would give
This warning. With the rising sun will spread
Some rumour of these Wooers whom I slew
Inside my hall. Mount therefore with thy maids
Into the upper rooms, and there remain ;
Answer no summons, neither ask of aught.”

He spoke, and, round his shoulders throwing arms,
Awoke the herdsmen and Telemachus,
And bade them too take weapons to their hands ;
Who in their arms begirt them, as he bade,
Obedient, oped the gates, and issued forth
Together, while Odysseus led the way.
Daylight had now arisen upon the earth,
But in a cloud of night Athene wrapt
The four, and brought them through the city safe.
THE SUITORS’ SPIRITS IN HADES 371

ODYSSEY XXIV.

But now Cyllenian Hermes raised the wand BOOK XxIv.
Of gold well-fashioned, wherewithal he seals, 1—26.
Or opens, as he lists, the eyes of men,

Calling the Phantoms of the Suitors forth.
With this their gibbering rout he moved and led.
Twittering, they followed; like to bats that flit
Deep in a cavern measureless to man
Twittering, if off their cluster from a rock,
Whence each to other clings, one haply falls;
The Spirits so together twittering passed,
Guided by Hermes on their mouldering way,
Hermes, the kindly Healer of mankind.

Beyond the Ocean's streams and Leucas’ rock,
And the Sun’s gateways, and the abode of Dreams,
Passing, they gained the mead of asphodel,

Where are the souls of those whose works are done.
The Phantoms of Achilles, Peleus’ Child,
Patroclus, and the brave Antilochus,

And Ajax, who of all the Danaan host

For beauty and stature, next to Peleus’ Child,
Was fairest, there they found conversing all
Around Achilles. Unto these approached

The Shade of Agamemnon Atreus’ Son,
Lamenting, girt by others, who with him

Had in A¢gisthus’ house drawn down their deaths.
The Shade of Peleus’ Son began address :

“ Atrides! We would name thee most beloved
Beyond all other heroes all thy days
By Zeus the Lord of thunder; for that thou
Under the walls of Troy wast sovran King
Of the most numerous and the bravest host,
BOOK XXIV.
27—59.

372 FIND AGAMEMNON

Where we the Achaians suffered sorrows long :

Yet was the doom no mortal can escape

To take its deadly stand beside thee first !

Ah would thou hadst encountered then thy fate

In full possession of that kingly might!

For then the Achaians would have reared thy cairn,

And thou hadst gained great glory for thy son ;

But death most piteous now hath been thy lot.”
To whom the Shade of Atreus’ son replied:

‘‘ Achilles, image of immortal Gods!

Happy in this, that thou didst die in Troy

And far from Argos! For about thee fell,

Fighting, the noblest men of either host,

Where ’mid the whirl o’ the dust-storm round thee blown

Lost to all charioteerings evermore,

Mighty, and mightily outstretched, thou layest !

But we the whole day through were battling on ;

Had not Zeus stayed us by a hurricane,

We had not from that struggle ceased at all!

When we had rescued from the war thy corse,

Amongst the ships we laid it on a bier,

With water warm and ointment cleansed thy skin,

Shedding around thee many a scalding tear,

Clipping, and laying in thy hands, our hair.

With her immortal Sisters of the sea,

On hearing of that tidings, from the waves

Thy Mother rose ; a cry across the deep

Went forth, of heavenly utterance; and the limbs

Of all the Achaians there trembled for fear ;

Yea, they had leaped aboard their hollow barks,

Had not a man of deep and antique lore,

Whose voice in council alway wisest showed,

Nestor, with cheering words addressed them thus:
‘ Argives, stand fast, and ye Achaia’s boast,

Flee not! The Mother of Achilles comes

With her immortal Sisters of the sea

To her slain Child; and with this cry they come.’
So spake he, and the gallant host held firm.

“The Daughters of the ancient Sea-God came
And in ambrosial raiment clothed thee, all
CONVERSING WITH ACHILLES 373

With piteous wail; and, in one harmony BOOK XXIV.
All blending, the nine Muses sang thy dirge. 60—91.
Thou wouldst not then have marked one tearless eye
In all the Achaian army ; to such grief

That concert of sweet voices moved their hearts.
Through seventeen days and nights we mourned alike,
Immortal Gods and mortals, then by fire

On the eighteenth consumed thee, with fat sheep
And crumple-hornéd oxen slain all round ;

And in that heavenly raiment, with much oil

And honey, thou wast burned. About the pyre

Full many Achaian heroes marched arrayed

In armour, some on chariots, some on foot,

All loud in lamentation. When the flame

Of King Hephzstus had consumed thee quite,

At early morn we gathered up thy bones,

Achilles, and in ointment and pure wine

Laid them apart, till soon thy mother brought

A golden urn, the gift (She said) bestowed

By Dionysus, and Hephzstus’ work.

And in that urn, renowned Achilles, now

Thy white bones, mingled with Patroclus’, lie.

The ashes of Antilochus, whom thou,

Next to Patroclus, beyond other men

Wouldst honour, in an urn distinct were laid ;

But one huge goodly cairn above all three

The mighty army of the Argives heaped

High on a promontory jutting forth

O’er Hellespont’s broad stream, that from the sea

It might stand out a beacon to all men

Now living, and to those of after-times.

Exceeding beauteous prizes from the Gods

Thy mother begged, and in the arena’s midst

Set them before Achaia’s noblest Chiefs.

At many a burial of heroic men

Have I been present, when perchance a King

Hath perished, and brave athletes gird their loins

To enter for the prizes; but, if thou

Hadst seen what then was proffered, thou hadst been
Lost in thine admiration to behold

What fair rewards were for thy honour set
BOOK XXIV.
92—120.

374 AGAMEMNON INQUIRES

By Thetis, silver-footed Nymph divine ;
For, truly, thou wast very dear to Gods.
Therefore even after death thou hast not lost
Thy glory, and thy name for evermore,
Achilles, shall resound throughout the world:
But what to me the profit, though I lived
To unwind the war’s rough tangle to the end?
Since, in my home-returning, Kronos’ Son
Compassed my mournful murther by the hands
Of false A2gisthus, and a damnéd wife!”

Thus each with other these their converse held.

But Argeiphontes, Pursuivant in heaven,
Leading the Suitors’ Spirits, now approached ;
Much wondering to behold them, moved the two
To meet them ; and the Shade of Atreus’ son
Straight knew the son of Melaneus beloved,
Renowned Automedon ; for at his house
In Ithaca he once had been a guest,

And therefore thus addressed him first, and said:

«« Automedon, for what affliction’s cause
Come ye to this dim region underground,
All in like flower of manhood, all pick’d men?
Selecting from a town its bravest youth,
Not otherwise would chieftain make his choice.
Say, hath Poseidon, raising troublous winds
And great long waves, subdued you out at sea?
Or have your enemies perchance on land
Dissevering from your flocks and herds fair sheep
And oxen, harried or engaged in fight
For plunder of your women and your town?
Answer me what I ask, for I may boast
Of guest-ship’s tie between us. Bearst thou not
The time in mind, when thither at thy house
With Godlike Menelaus I arrived
To incite Odysseus on his well-bench’d barks
To follow us to Ilion with our host ?
A whole month lapsed before we measured back
Our passage with your kingdom-quelling Chief
Odysseus, by persuasions scarcely won,”

The Phantom of Automedon replied;
CONCERNING THEIR PATE 375

“ Most glorious Agamemnon, King of men, BOOK XXIV.
The Son of Atreus! Well I bear in mind 121—154.
These things, as thou relat’st them, Zeus-born Chief ;
And of the manner of our end and death

I will without concealment tell you all.

We wooed the wife of Odyseus, long-since
Departed; She would neither quite refuse

Nor make complete a marriage that she loathed,
Concerting for us all black fate and death.

This trick ’mongst others in her mind she planned.
She set a great web stretched along her hall,
Smooth, and exceeding large, and suddenly

She said amongst us: ‘Ye who woo me thus,
Seeing that divine Odysseus is no more,

Refrain from pressing on your courtship, till

I shall have made complete this woven cloth

(So that my labours may not be in vain),

A shroud to swathe Laertes, when fell Fate

Takes him away by melancholy death ;

Lest else the Achaian women cry me shame
Amongst the towns-folk, that, despite his wealth,
They see him lying shroudless’. So she spake,

And our high tempers yielded to her words.

Then every day upon that web she wove

What she unwove by torchlight in the nights,

And three years long so guiled the Achaian chiefs.
But, when the advancing seasons brought the fourth,
One of her maiden-complices informed,

And in the act unweaving the bright web

We caught her: so by sore constraint she made
The work complete. But hardly the large web

Was finish’d—hardly had she brought to light

A mantle glistening like the sun or moon,

And wash’'d it clean—when, on that very day,

Some power of ill from somewhere in the world

Safe to the border of his own demesne

(Where dwelt his swineherd) brought Odysseus back.
At the same point his well-belovéd son

Arrived from sandy Pylos on his bark.

The two complotted there our wretched deaths,

And then moved onward to the famous town,
BOOK XXIV.
155—186.

376 OF WHICH AUTOMEDON’S SHADE

Telemachus preceding; but anon

Odysseus following, whom his swineherd led
With sorry tattered raiment round him thrown
Like a vile beggar or an agéd man

Halting upon a staff. These rags he donned
That none, not ev’n the oldest of our band,
Should know that it was he; and hence with gibes
And missiles we assailed him in his hall.

Reviled and pelted, with enduring heart

Some while he bore it all; but, strengthen’d soon
By Zeus the 2gis-bearer’s will supreme,

With young Telemachus he lifted off

And laid the splendid armour from the walls

In the strong-room, whereto he closed the bolts ;
Then of his cunning bade his wife bring forth
His bow before the Suitors and propose

An archery-match betwixt twelve iron blades—
Whence our foredoomed destruction—and to be
The fell beginning of our massacre!

For none of us could stretch the string across
That mighty bow: in strength we all fell short ;
Till, as in turn it now was passing on

Into his hands, together we exclaimed
Forbidding him its use, however much

He pleaded for it; but Telemachus

Alone persistent bade him take it up.

The toil-worn noble Chief thus gat in hand

The weapon, strung it effortless, and sent

An arrow through the iron-bladed line ;

Then moving on the threshold stood erect

With terrible glance around, and, pouring out
The arrows from the quiver at his feet,

First slew the King Antinoiis, and next

Aiming right well before him shot us down
Pell-mell ; the slaughtered each on other dropt.
Full clearly some great God was on their side
Then battling, for in onslaught through the hall
Charging anon with fury, right and left

They hewed us down; most hideous rose the din
Of cloven heads ; the whole floor reeked with blood.
We perished in this manner, Atreus’ son ;
GIVES A FULL ACCOUNT 377

And to this moment still our bodies lie BOOK XXIV.
Uncared-for in the palace; since our friends 187—219.
As yet know nothing, who would off our wounds
Else wash the blood, and lay us out, with due
Lament—the honours that the dead require.”
To whom the Shade of Atreus’ Son replied :
“ Blesséd art thou, Odysseus Zeus-born Chief,
Son of Laertes! in that thou didst take
A woman of true virtue to thy bed!
How excellent in chaste Penelope
Child of Icarus shows the constant heart !
What faith to Odyseus her wedded Lord!
The glory of her virtue shall not fade ;
But Gods immortal shall for men build up
In honour of her name the lofty verse.
She was not as the child of Tyndareus,
Who compassed evil deeds and slew her lord:
Hateful throughout the world her lay shall be ;
Yea, on all women everywhere she draws
A foul report, involving ev’n the good!”
Thus ’mid the abodes of Hades, far removed
In sunken spaces of the underworld,
Each with the other these conversing stood.

Meantime Odysseus with his servitors
Descending from the city reached the farm
By old Laertes’ labour builded fair,
His dwelling-place ; and round it all four sides
Were huts in rows, wherein the henchmen, bound
To work his pleasure, took their rest and food.
Amongst them was a dame, Sicilian born,
Who gave all due attendance in his grange
To her old master, from the town so far.
Odysseus then addressed his comrades thus:
“Enter within the well-built house yourselves,
And slaughter for our meal the finest boar:
The while I try my father by some test,
Whether he will acknowledge me his son
Before his eyes, or whether he will fail
To know me, after so long while away”.
He spoke, and gave his armour to their hands,
BOOK XXIV.
220—253.

378 ODYSSEUS REACHING HIS PATHER
And with all speed they went within the grange.

But nearer to the laden vineyard drew
Odysseus, seeking trial of his sire,
And stepping down within the orchard found
No labourer there, nor Dolius nor his sons ;
For all had gone collecting thorns, to make
A hedgerow to the vineyard, by a path
That agéd Dolius led them. Hence he found
His father on the terraced plot alone,
Digging about a plant, unseemly clad
In a patched tunic, both his legs encased
In coarse-sewn leathern gaiters, a defence

‘From brambles, and with gauntlets on his hands

Against the thorns: upon his head he wore

A goat-skin cap, and nursed his griefs alone.

And, when divine Odysseus saw him thus

Bowed with old age and sorrowful at heart,

Under a lofty pear-tree for some while

He stood aside, and wept, in much misdoubt,

Whether to kiss and fall in close embrace

About his father, and to tell him all,

How he had gained at last his native land,

Or whether to explore his heart by words:

To whom thus doubting this the better seemed

By probing question to explore his heart.

And thus the glorious son addressed the sire:
“Old man, no lack of knowledge marks thy hand

In dressing of this vineyard, and thy care

Shows well all down the garden; everywhere,

No plant, no vine, no vegetable plot,

No olive, fig, or pear-tree, but displays

Thy kindly tendance. But one thing I say;

Nor let it anger thee to hear it said:

The same fine care extends not to thyself;

Old age lies sore upon thee, yet the while

Thou witherest in neglect and poorly clad,

Certés, ’tis not for slothfulness thy lord

Thus stints thee; nothing slavish in thy mien

Nor in that stature visible appears:

Rather thou hast the semblance of high birth,
FIRST PROBES HIS HEART BY 379

Being such as they who after bath and food BOOK XXIV.
Sleep softly, as befits an old man’s sleep. 254—288.
But answer freely, and inform me this:

Whose husbandman art thou, and whose this plot
Thou tendest? Also tell, that I may know,

And answer what I ask, if of a truth

This land I have arrived is Ithaca,

As yonder man I met along my way

Told me, not over-courteously, nor bore

To hear me out or answer when I asked
Concerning an acquaintance, once my guest,
Whether he still were thriving and alive,

Or dead, and gone to Hades’ dismal realm.

Heed what thou hearst, and I will tell thee too.
Once in my own dear native land I gave

Free entertainment to a guest who came

Into our house; nor ever in my home

Came any foreign man more dear to me.

He oft would boast his birth from Ithaca,
Repeating that he was Laertes’ son,

In noble lineage from Arceisias born.

Him I brought home and gave him of my best
Fit tokens of our hospitable pledge.

Seven talents of well-beaten gold I gave,

A goblet of pure silver, chased with flowers,
Twelve single-folded cloaks, as many quilts,
Twelve mantles, and fair tunics therewithal ;

And, these beside, four comely women, chosen

At his own will, in broideries expert.”

‘To whom the father, dropping tears, replied:
“ Stranger, this is the very land thou seekst :
But insolent men and impious hold it now.

And all those gifts which with a lavish hand

Thou gavest, are thrown away. For, hadst thou lit
Upon him still in Ithaca alive,

He would have sent thee well-content away

With such requital as of right ensues

To him who first beginneth courteous gifts.

But tell me freely, and inform me more ;

How many a year agone didst thou receive

Into thy house that most unhappy guest,
BOOK XXIV.
289—320.

380 A FICTITIOUS STORY

My son—if all he was be not a dream—
My miserable son? Whose flesh, I fear,
Far from his country and from all he loves,
Fish somewhere out in open sea have gnawn,
Or beasts and fowls o’ the air on land devoured !
Neither enshrouding our begotten child
Might father or dear mother shed our tears,
Nor his deep-hearted wife Penelope
(Who with rich dowry to her wedding came)
Close on the bier his eyes, nor shriek aloud
Her lamentation—as the dead require !
But let me know this also; tell me true;
Whence comest thou? Where thy city ? What thy race ?
Where lies, I pray thee, the fair ship that brought
Thee and thy godlike crew? Or hast thou sailed
A trader hither, on another’s bark,
And have they parted disembarking thee ?”

To whom deep-wiled Odysseus answered thus :
“These things I tell thee truly and at full.
From an illustrious house in Alybas,
Born of Apheides Polyphzemon’s son,
I have fared hither; and myself am named
Eperitus. But from Sicania beaten
By some ill Power against my will I come,
My ship being anchored off yon country-side
Clear of the city. O’er Odysseus’ head
The fifth year now is passing, since he left
My country and departed from my house ;
Unhappy man! Yet happy omens showed
On our right hands, when | dismissed him thence,
Blithesome himself, and not less blithesome I;
For both our hearts were quickened with one hope,
To meet again, and interchange more gifts.”

He ended; a black cloud of grief o’erwhelmed
The other, who in either hand caught up
Ashes, and shower’d them on his hoary locks,
With sobs and groans all shaken. But his son,
Beholding his dear father thus a-swoon,
Heart-stricken felt a sharp throb shoot along
His nostrils’ quivering nerve, and springing forth
Clung round him, and, with kisses, spoke and said;
THEN DECLARES HIMSELRP 381

“Him whom thou mournst, behold him—I am he, BOOK XXIV.
My Father, in the twentieth year at last 321—352.
To my own native land returned alive!

Cease from this moaning and this tearful grief.
Though still we stand in need of utmost care,
Yet I may tell thee, I have slaughtered all
The Suitors in our palace, for revenge
Of their rank outrages and foul misdeeds.”
To whom Laertes thus replied, and said:
“Tf thou be Odyseus my child indeed,
Give me some sign, that I may trust thy words”’.

And sage Odysseus answering thus returned:

“ First then scan closely with thine eyes this scar,
Which on Parnassus once the white-tusk’d boar
Inflicted, when my mother and thyself

To her dear father old Autolycus

Sent me alone and to procure the gifts

He pledged his bounden promise to bestow

When on my birthday to our house he came.
Hear too, and let me number, all the plants
Which on this terraced vineyard thou one day
Gavest to me for my own, whilst I a child

Asked thee the names of each and in thy steps
Trod following down the garden; so we passed
Right through it, and thou toldst me all their names.
Ten apple, forty fig-trees, thirteen pear,

Thou gavést, and didst promise soon to give

Vines fifty in a row, and namedst them mine.

The vines in due succession bare their grapes,
And clusters in all stages on the trees

Hung, as from Zeus each fruitful season fell.”

He spoke ; the old man’s limbs and heart gave way,
For recognition of the signs declared
So surely by Odysseus. Both his arms
Round his dear son he threw; and in a faint
The noble toil-worn Hero clasped him close.

But, when with breath recovered strength returned
Into his heart, he spoke again, and said:
“ Hail, Father Zeus! O Gods, ye live again,
Still on Olympus Rulers of the world,
If for their rank offence these men have paid !
BOOK XXIV.
353—384.

382 AND IS RECOGNISED

But now, my Son, beware: I deeply dread,
Their kith and kin in Ithaca may come
Assembled all against us, and will speed
These tidings through the Cephallenian towns.”
To whom deep-wiled Odysseus answered thus:
“Be cheered, nor let this trouble vex thy heart.
Rather come with me to the grange that stands
Nigh to this orchard, whither I have sent
Eumeus with the neat herd and my son
Already to prepare our meal forthwith.”
He spoke, and both proceeded toward the house.

When they had entered the fair spacious grange
They found the herdsmen and Telemachus
Severing the meats and mingling ruddy wine.
Then the Sicilian matron in the house
Bathed and anointed with sweet olive oil
Her agéd master, and around him threw
Fair mantle ; whilst Athene standing near
Gave fulness to the mighty Chieftain’s limbs,
Making him more majestic than before.

In marvel, as he met him face to face
Peer to Immortals, issuing from the bath,
His well-belovéd son thus spoke and said:
“« By one or other of eternal Gods,
My father, thou art made exceeding great
In majesty and stature before men”.
To whom the wise Laertes gave reply:
‘Ah to be once again—O Father Zeus,
Apollo, and Athene !—what I was,
When Cephallenia’s King I took by storm
The strong-built castle on the foreland’s point
At Nericus! And would that yester eve
In that my olden might within our halls
I had been present at thy side full-arm’d
Battling against the Suitors! Then, I ween,
I should have loosed the knees of many a man,
And thou, beholding, hadst been blithe at heart.”
Thus each with other these their converse held.

The task now ended and the feast prepared,
BY HIS FATHER AND HIS SLAVES — 383

They sate along the benches and the chairs, BOOK XXIV.
Ranged ready to lay hands upon the food. 385—418.
To these came agéd Dolius with his sons,

Tired from their work; the old Sicilian Dame

Had gone to call them; she with daily care

Now nourished and attended on himself,

Since age had caught and held him in her clutch.

“Seeing Odysseus, scanning him with heed,

They stood astonied in the chamber, till

With rallying words the Chief addressed him, saying:

‘“«Seat thee, old man, and banish clean away
This wonder.: we, desiring to begin,

Awaiting every moment your approach,
‘Long-while are lingering hungry in the hall”’.

He spoke ; but Dolius straight upon him ran
With arms outspread, and lifting kissed his hand
About the wrist, and spake these wingéd words:

‘‘ Belovéd master! Though we hoped on still,
We scarcely thought that thou couldst e’er return.
All hail! Exceeding welcome! May the Gods
Grant thee all blessings! Let me further know
Whether the high-soul’d Queen Penelope
Already is apprized that thou art come,

Or shall we speed to her some messenger ?”’

To whom deep-wiled Odysseus gave reply:
“She knoweth ; need is none to fret thyself”’.

He spoke; the other on the smoothéd bench
Took seat, and in like manner all his sons
About renowned Odysseus came and spoke
Their welcome, fastening on his hands their lips,
Then by their father took their ordered seats:

So to their food these turned them in the grange.

But Rumour through the city now had flown
Proclaiming unto all the mournful doom
And slaughter of the Suitors. Whereupon
The townsfolk from each quarter streaming came
With moan and lamentation to the gates
Before Odysseus’ palace, and anon
Brought forth the slain, and buried each his own;
But those, that were from other towns, they gave
BOOK XXIV.
419—450.

384 - THE SUITORS’ KINDRED

In charge to seamen, on their hollow barks

To lay the bodies and convey them home ;

Then to the market-place with grieving hearts

They moved in one dense throng. And when they there
Were ranged in full assembly on their seats,

Eupeithes, rising first, began address:

On whom a sorrow inextinguishable lay

For his dear son Antinous slaughtered first

By brave Odysseus ; weeping, he commenced :

“ Vast of a truth the wrong this man hath wrought,
Dear Friends, on all the Achaians, in that, first,
Enlisting many a brave man on his ships,

He hath lost the ships, and utterly lost the men ;
And now returning hath destroyed the flower
Of Cephallenia’s youth. Up then, and rush
Upon him, ere to Pylos he can flee

Or sacred Elis where the Epeians rule!

For, verily, if he should now escape,

We never could lift up our heads again:

Yea, even in after-times this shame would stick,
Unless we punish with a full revenge

The murderers of our children and our kin!

To me life so dishonoured has no charm ;
Better to perish, and be with the dead ;

On therefore, lest they escape us o’er the seas.”

He ceased in tears; compassion filled their hearts:
When on a sudden, lo, the heavenly Bard
And Medon, now released from slumber, came
Issuing from out the palace, and took stand
Amongst them startled to behold them there.
Sage Medon then addressed them, speaking thus:

“Yet hearken, men of Ithaca, my words.

Not without prompture of Immortal Gods

Hath Odyseus achieved these terrible deeds.

With mine own eyes I saw the Deity

Stand in the guise of Mentor at his side:

A God immortal at one moment showed

In front and cheered him onward, then anon

Amid the routed Suitors down the hall

Would charge, till each on other dead they fell.”
He ended, and pale panic held the folk,
VOW REVENGE AND MARCH 385

Till the old Hero Halitherses, son BOOK XXIV.
Of Mastor, rose, alone amongst them sage 451—484.
To look before and after, and he said:

“ Hearken, O men of Ithaca, my words.
To your own cowardice, dear Friends, these things
Are mainly due, who would not list to me,
Nor even to Mentor, when we bade you check
Your children from their folly, where, with hearts
Perverse, they worked iniquity, and robbed
The wealth, and did dishonour to the wife
Of him, our noblest, never (so they deemed)
Returning home. Howbeit, let this resolve
Be now determined, and obey my words:
Refrain from pressing onward, lest perchance
We draw a dread destruction on ourselves.”

He ended; yet the greater number sprang
Forward, the others resting on their seats ;
For most his counsel pleased not, but they heard
Eupeithes, and together rushed to arms.
When these were in their flashing armour clad, -
They gathered soon outside the wide-spaced town.
Eupeithes in his folly led them forth,
Promising his heart a vengeance for his child,
But fated never to return alive,
And on himself to bring an evil doom.

Meanwhile Athene to Kroneion said:

“Our Father, son of Kronos, lord of lords!
Answer me ; what is now thy hidden intent?
Wouldst thou advance to yet a loftier pitch
This evil battle and disastrous strife ?

Or wilt thou bring an amnesty to pass ?”’

To whom the Ruler of the clouds replied :
‘My Child, why fret me with inquiries vain ?
For was not this thine own deep counsel planned
That Odyseus might have his full revenge ?
Work thine own will; I tell thee what seems wise.
Odysseus on the Suitors stands revenged ;
Therefore let either side o’er victims swear
A truce: let him for ever reign secure ;

Whilst we within the others’ minds implant
25
BOOK XXIV.
485—516.

386 BUT ZEUS AND ATHENE

Oblivion of their sons and kindred slain:

So may both love each other as of old,

With peace and substance to their hearts’ content.”
He spoke, and kindled in Athene’s breast

The spirit, erst flaming high, to higher flame ;

Down springing from Olympus’ crests She flew.

Meantime, long-suffering brave Odysseus thus
Amongst his good companions spoke and said
(When all had had their fill of pleasant food) :

“ Forth now to see if they be haply nigh!”

He spoke; a son of Dolius, as he bade,
Went forth and standing on the threshold spied
Their near approach and to Odysseus said:

“They come! Toarms, and with our utmost speed!’
He spoke; they rose and girt them in their mail;
Laertes even, and Dolius, clothed themselves
In armour, hoary-headed both, and old,

But warriors for the nonce in that sore need.
So clad in flashing brass they oped the gates
And issued forth, Odysseus at their head.

Nigh whom the Child of Zeus, Athene, came
Guised like to Mentor both in speech and form.
Long-suffering brave Odysseus much rejoiced
To see her, and addressed Telemachus:

“Telemachus, I doubt not, thou art bent
(Now entering battle, where ’mid strife of men
The prowess of the best is put to proof),

To bring no shame on thy forefathers, all
For strength and manhood through the world
renowned ”’,

To whom the sage young Prince replied, and said :
“Dear Father, thou shalt see me, if thou list,
Accordant to the temper of thy words,

In no wise shaming our ancestral line’’.

Laertes then gave utterance to his joy:
“Dear Gods! How glorious unto me this day!
What joy, to see my son’s son and my son
Dispute the meed of valour, each with each!”

Whom Pallas then, in Mentor’s guise, approached :
EFFECT A PEACE 387

“Son of Arcesias, and the most beloved BOOK XXIV.
Of all my comrades! Offer up thy prayer 517—548,
To Zeus our Father and his maiden Child,
Then whirl aloft and throw thy javelin forth.”
Pallas Athene speaking thus imbreathed
A fiery spirit within him, who forthwith
Praying the maiden Child of mighty Zeus
Whirled high his shadowing spear and launched it forth.
Eupeithes through the brass-cheeked helm he struck ;
The javelin unwithstood pierced on right through;
And his arms clashed around him as he fell.
Nor less Odysseus and his glorious son
Charged on the vanmost foe to smite them down
With sword-stroke and with sharp spike-handled spears.
Yea, of their lives he had bereft them all
Had not the maiden Child of Zeus supreme
Lifted her voice, and stayed the battle thus:
“Cease, men of Ithaca, from mortal fray ;
And be ye reconciled without more blood”’.
She shouted; and a panic paled their cheeks ;
The weapons from their hands dropt idly down
And stuck in earth, whilst, by that voice divine
Awe-stricken, and for saving of dear life,
They turned them toward the city: at their heels
Long-suffering brave Odysseus, lifting loud
His war-cry, and collecting close his limbs,
Like some high-soaring eagle, onward sprang :
Whereat great Zeus sent forth a sulphurous bolt
That dropt before the bright-eyed Maiden’s feet ;
And, mighty in her Father's strength, She said:
“Rest thee, wise master of resource, Zeus-born,
Laertes’ son Odysseus! Hold thy hand
From all-destroying warfare, lest perchance
Kronos’ far-seeing Son be wroth thereat.”
The Goddess spoke, and with blithe heart he heard,
Obedient, whilst the maiden Child of Zeus,
Like unto Mentor both in speech and form,
On either side thereafter stablished peace,
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

THE ILIAD OF HOMER.
CHEAPER AND REVISED EDITION (1890).

Price 5s.

ALSO AN EDITION OF THE SAME,
WITH THE GREEK TEXT,

TO WHICH HAS BEEN ADDED

A SHEET CONTAINING THE EMENDATIONS MADE IN THE
CHEAPER EDITION OF 18g0.*
Price 12s.

* The latter of these two editions was passed through the press
during years when the author was Commissioner of Peshawur and
(later) British resident at Hyderabad. This may be some explanation,
though it is no excuse, of his having permitted to pass more than one
hasty correction, mistranslation or misprint. Owners of that edition are
earnestly requested to obtain of the publishers the printed corrections
of these mistakes.

SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.

“Tt is no mean test of merit ina translation of Homer issuing from the press in these
latter days, if, sated as both students and superficial readers are with Homeric translations,
it can purvey a special attraction for each of these two classes. And such a test Mr.
Cordery's I/tad in English blank-verse may be confidently pronounced as bearing with
full success. For the scholar it presents the charm of a version which, while keeping
close to the spirit, and never remote from the letter of the Greek, is yet flowing, sustained
and poetical; for the larger and less keenly critical class of general readers, it supplies a
lively and direct representation of the force which tradition has taught them to attribute
to the matchless original."—Saturday Review.

“Mr. Cordery handles his rhythm with skill and spirit. . . . He has certainly given us
pleasure, and if he has had to sacrifice rapidity and exactness, it is only fair to remember
that every translator of Homer must sacrifice much; it is at all events better to lose these
than vigour and movement, and dignity and feeling for poetical beauty, all of which we
gratefully acknowledge that Mr. Cordery shows in no small measure."—A thenaum,

“Turning now from Mr. Cordery’s Greek to his metre, we hold, as we did fifteen years
ago, that Mr. Cordery’s blank-verse is far better than either Cowper's or Lord Derby's.
Blank-verse, indeed, in Mr. Cordery's hands is a fair vehicle for the oratory of Homer,
who was not more the prince of poets than he was of orators. . . . It is distinctly the
best blank-verse translation of the Iliad."—Spectator.

“Beautiful volumes . . . obviously the work of an enthusiastic student, another
instance of the fact that the management of affairs, so far from being incompatible with
literary pursuits, gives, on the principle voluptates commendat rarior usus, those pursuits
a greater zest."—Guardian.

“We know Mr. Cordery's translation of Homer's Iliad well. We have often con-
sulted it, have had great pleasure in reading it, and have always found just what we
wanted—thedifficulty solved; the happy poetical rendering which was in our thoughts,
but to which we failed to give expression, we were sure to find there. For a poetical
translation we invariably found it wonderfully literal; and although at times the trans-
lator is forced to sacrifice exactness of translation to make, perhaps, some line go more
smoothly or rhythmically, still the translation possesses in a marked manner the spirit of
the original, pervaded by a poetical beauty which the classical scholar will appreciate,
and which to the ordinary class of readers will prove of great attraction. From our
intimate knowledge over a series of years of the beauty and correctness of the transla-
tion, we unhesitatingly recommend the work. Indeed, we think it one of the best
blank-verse translations of the I/iad."—Schoolmaster.
A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS
AND ANNOUNCEMENTS OF
METHUEN AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS : LONDON
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W.C.

CONTENTS

PAGE
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BELLES LETTRES, A . . . Ir
ILLUSTRATED BOOKS, .« 3 : 13
HISTORY, « . ‘ . . 14
BIOGRAPHY, . é i Fi * 16
TRAVEL, ADVENTURE AND TOPOGRAPHY, . 18
GENERAL LITERATUKE, . . . 9
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LEADERS OF RELIGION, . . . . 24
FICTION, 7 : . 3 : . 25
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SEPTEMBER 1897
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Messrs. METHUEN’S
ANNOUNCEMENTS

 

Poetry

SHAKESPEARE’S POEMS. Edited, with an Introduction and
Notes, by GEORGE WYNDHAM, M.P. Crown 8v0. Buckram. 6s.

This is a volume of the sonnets and Iesser poems of Shakespeare, and is prefaced
with an elaborate Introduction by Mr. Wyndham

ENGLISH LYRICS. Selected and Edited by W. E. HENLEY.
Crown 8v0. Buckram. 6s.
Also 15 copies on Japanese paper. Demy 8v0. £2, 25. net.

Few announcements will be more welcome to lovers of English verse than the one
that Mr. Henley is bringing together into one book the finest lyrics in our
language.

NURSERY RHYMES. With many Coloured Pictures. By
F. D. BEDFORD. Small 4to. 6s.

This book has many beautiful designs in colour to illustrate the old rhymes.

THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER. AA Translation by J. G.
CoRDERY. Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d,

Travel and Adventure

BRITISH CENTRAL AFRICA. By Sir H. H. Jounston,
K.C.B. With nearly Two Hundred Illustrations, and Six Maps.
Crown 4to. 30s. net.

Contents.—(1) The History of Nyasaland and British Central Africa generally.
(2) A detailed description of the races and languages of British Central Africa.
(3) Chapters on the Buropean settlers and missionaries; the Fauna, the Flora,
minerals, and scenery. (4) A chapter on the prospects of the country.

WITH THE GREEKS IN THESSALY. By W. KINNAIRD
Rose, Reuter’s Correspondent. With Plans and 23 Ihlustrations.
Crown 8vo. 65.

A history of the operations in Thessaly by one whose brilliant despatches from the
seat of war attracted universal attention.

THE MASSACRE IN BENIN. By Captain Bolsracon.
With Maps, etc. Crown 8vo. 35. 64.

This volume is written by one of the two survivors who escaped the terrible
massacre in Renin at the beginning of this year. The author relates in detail his
adventures and his extraordinary escape, and adds a description of the country
and of the events which led up to the outbreak.
MESSRS. METHUEN’S ANNOUNCEMENTS 3

FROM TONKIN TO INDIA. By PRINCE HENRI OF
Orteans. Translated by HaMLEY BENT, M.A. With 80 Illus-
trations and 6 Maps. Crown 4to. 255,

The travels of Prince Henri in 1895 from China to the valley of the Bramaputra
covered a distance of 2100 miles, of whith 1600 was through absolutely unexplored
country. No fewer than seventeen ranges of mountains were crossed at altitudes
of from 11,000 to 13,000 feet. The journey was made memorable by the discovery
of the sources of the Irrawaddy. To the physical difficulties of the journey were
added dangers from the attacks of savage tribes. The book deals with many of
the burning political problems of the East, and it will be found a most important
contribution to the literature of adventure and discovery.

THREE YEARS IN SAVAGE AFRICA. By LIONEL DECLE,
With an Introduction by H. M. Stan.ey, M.P. With 100 Illus-
trations and 5 Maps. Demy 8vo. 215.

Few Europeans have had the same opportunity of studying the barbarous parts of
Africa as Mr. Decle. Starting from the Cape, he visited in succession Bechuana-
land, the Zambesi, Matabeleland and Mashonaland, the Portuguese settlement on
the Zambesi, Nyasaland, Ujiji, the headquarters of the Arabs, German East
Africa, Uganda (where he saw fighting in company with the late Major ‘Roddy’
Owen), and British East Africa. In his book he relates his experiences, his
minute observations of native habits and customs, and his views as to the work
done in Africa by the various European Governments, whose operations he was
able to study. The whole journey extended over 7ooo miles, and occupied
exactly three years. -

WITH THE MOUNTED INFANTRY IN MASHONA-
LAND. By Lieut.-Colonel ALDERSON. With numerous Illustra-
tions and Plans. Demy 8vo. 125, 6a.

This is an account of the military operations in Mashonaland by the officer who
commanded the troops in that district during the late rebellion, Besides its

interest as a story of warfare, it will have a peculiar value as an account of the
services of mounted infantry by one of the chief authorities on the subject.

THE HILL OF THE GRACES: OR, THE GREAT STONE
TemMPLes Of TRIPOLI. By H. S. Cowper, F.S.A. With Maps,
Plans, and 75 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d.

A record of two journeys through Tripoli in 1895 and 1896. The book treats of a

remarkable series of megalithic temples which have hitherto been uninvestigated,
and contains a large amount of new geographical and archeological matter.

ADVENTURE AND EXPLORATION IN AFRICA. By
Captain A. St. H. Gipzpons, F.R.G.S. With Ilustrations by
C. WuympEr, and Maps. Demy 8vo. 21s.

This is an account of travel and adventure among the Marotse and contiguous tribes,
with a description of their customs, characteristics, and history, together with the
author’s experiences in hunting big game. The illustrations are by Mr. Charles
Whymper, and from photographs. There isa map by the author of the hitherto
unespired regions lying between the Zambezi and Kafukwi rivers and from 18°
to 15° S. lat.
4 MESSRS, METHUEN’S ANNOUNCEMENTS

History and Biography

A HISTORY OF EGYPT, FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO
THE Present Day. Edited by W. M. FLinpeErRs Petrie, D.C.L.,
LL.D., Professor of Egyptology at University College. //ly [lus-
trated. In Six Volumes. Crown 8vo. 6s. each.

VoL. V. ROMAN EGYPT. ByJ. G. MILNE.

THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE.
By Epwarp Gipson. <A New Edition, edited with Notes,
Appendices, and Maps by J. B. Bury, M.A., Fellow of Trinity
College, Dublin. J Seven Volumes. Demy 8vo, gilt top. 8s. 6d.
each. Crown 8vo. 6s. each. Vol. IV.

THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. Translated from the
French by F. CiarKke, M.A. Jn Two Volumes. Demy 8vo.
10s. 6d. each. Vol. IJ. 1835-72.
This is the second volume of one of the most interesting and important collection of
letters ever published in France. The correspondence dates from Victor Hugo's
boyhood to his death, and none of the letters have been published before.

A HISTORY OF THE GREAT NORTHERN RAILWAY,
1845-95. By C. H. Grinninc. With Maps and Illustrations.
Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d.

A record of Railway enterprise and development in Northern England, containing
much matter hitherto unpublished. It appeals both to the gencral reader and to
those specially interested in railway construction and management.

A HISTORY OF ENGLISH COLONIAL POLICY. By

H. E. Ecerton, M.A. Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d.

This book deals with British Colonial policy historically from the beginnings of
English colonisation down to the present day. The subject has been treated by
itself, and it has thus been possible within a reasonable compass to deal with a
mass of authority which must otherwise be sought in the State papers. The
volume is divided into five parts:—(1) The Period of Beginnings, 1497-1650;
(2) Trade Ascendancy, 1651-1830 ; (3) The Granting of Responsible Government,
1831-1860; (4) Laissez Aller, 1861-1885 ; (5) Greater Britain.

A HISTORY OF ANARCHISM. By E. V. ZENKER.
Translated by II. de B. Gipprns, M.A., Litt.D. Demy 8v0. tos. 6d.

critical study and history, as well as a powerful and trenchant criticism, of the
Anarchist movement in Europe. The book has aroused considerable attention
on the Continent.

>

THE LIFE OF ERNEST RENAN By MabaME Darmes-
TETER. With Portrait. Crow Svo. 6s.
A biography of Renan by one of his most intimate friends.

A LIFE OF DONNE. By Avcustus Jrssopp, D.D. With
Portrait. Crow 8vo. 35. 6d.
This is a new volume of the ‘ Leaders of Religion’ series, from the learned and witty
pen of Ea Rector of Scarning, who has been able to embody the results of much
research,
MEssRS. METHUEN’S ANNOUNCEMENTS 8

OLD HARROW DAYS. ByC.H.MINCHIN. Cx. 8vo. 35. 6d.

A volume of reminiscences which will be interesting to old Harrovians and to many
of the general public.

Theology

A PRIMER OF THE BIBLE. By Prof. W. H. BENNETT.

Crown 8vo. 25. 6d.

This Primer sketches the history of the books which make up the Bible, in the light
of recent criticism. It gives an account of their character, origin, and composi-
tion, as far as possible in chronological order, with special reference to their
relations to one another, and to the history of Israel and the Church. The
formation of the Canon is illustrated by chapters on the Apocrypha (Old and
New Testament); and there is a brief notice of the history of the Bible since the
close of the Canon.

LIGHT AND LEAVEN : HISTORICAL AND SOCIAL SERMONS,
By the Rev. H. Henstey Henson, M.A., Fellow of All Souls’,
Incumbent of St. Mary’s Hospital, Ilford. Crown 8vo. 6s,

Bebotional Series

THE CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE. Newly Trans-
lated, with an Introduction, by C. Bicc, D.D., late Student of
Christ Church. With a Frontispiece. 1870. Is. 6d.

This little book is the first volume of a new Devotional Series, printed in clear type,
and published at a very low price.

This volume contains the nine books of the ‘Confessions’ which ‘are suitable for
devotional purposes. The name of the Editor is a sufficient guarantee of ‘the
excellence of the edition.

THE HOLY SACRIFICE. By F. WEsTON, M.A., Curate of
St. Matthew’s, Westminster. 1870. Is.
A small volume of devotions at the Holy Communion.

Naval and Military

A HISTORY OF THE ART OF WAR. By C. W. Oman,
M.A., Fellow of All Souls’, Oxford. Demy 8v0.  Zlustrated. 215.

Vol. Il. MEDIEVAL WARFARE.

Mr. Oman is engaged on a History of the Art of War, of which the above, though
covering the middle period from the fall of the Roman Empire to the general use
of gunpowder in Western Europe, is the first instalment. The first battle dealt
with will be Adrianople (378) and the last Navarette (1367). There will appear
later a volume dealing with the Art of War among the Ancients, and another
covering the 15th, 16th, and 17th centuries.

The book will dea! mainly with tactics and strategy, fortifications and siegecraft, but
subsidiary chapters will give some account of the development of arms and armour,
and of the various forms of military organization known to the Middle Ages.
6 MEssrs. METHUEN’S ANNOUNCEMENTS

A SHORT HISTORY OF THE ROYAL NAVY, From
EarLty TIMES TO THE PRESENT Day. By Davip HAnnay.
Illustrated. 2 Vols. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. each, Vol. I.

This book aims at giving an account not only of the fighting we have done at sea,
but of the growth of the service, of the part the Navy has played in the develop-
ment of the Empire, and of its inner life.

THE STORY OF THE BRITISH ARMY. By Lieut.-Colonel
come KING, of the Staff College, Camberley. Illustrated. Demy
vo. 7S. 6d.

This volume aims at describing the nature of the different armies that have been
formed in Great Britain, and how from the early and feudal levies the present
‘standing army came to be. The changes in tactics, uniform, and armament are
briefly touched upon, and the campaigns in which the army has shared have
been so far followed as to explain the part played by British regiments in them.

General Literature
THE OLD ENGLISH HOME. By S. BARING-GOULD.

With numerous Plans and Illustrations. Crows 8vo. 7s. 6d.

This book, like Mr. Baring-Gould’s well-known ‘Old Country Life,’ describes the
life and environment of an old English family.

OXFORD AND ITS COLLEGES. By J. WELLS, M.A,
Fellow and Tutor of Wadham College. Illustrated by E. H. New.
Fag. 8v0. 35. Leather. 4s.

This is a guide—chiefly historical—to the Colleges of Oxford. It contains numerous
illustrations.

VOCES ACADEMIC. By C. GRANT ROBERTSON, M.A.,
Fellow of All Souls’, Oxford. With a Frontispiece. Feap. 8vo.
35. 6d.

This is a volume of light satirical dialogues and should be read by all who are inter-
ested in the life of Oxford.

A PRIMER OF WORDSWORTH. By LAURIE MAGNus.
Crown 8vo. 25. 6d.
This volume is uniform with the Primers of Tennyson and Burns, and contains a
concise biography of the poet, a critical appreciation of his work in detail, and a
bibliography.

NEO-MALTHUSIANISM. ByR. UssHER, M.A. Cy. 8vo. 6s.

This book deals with a very delicate but most important matter, namely, the volun-
tary limitation of the family, and how such action affects morality, the individual,
and the nation.

PRIMAVAL SCENES. By H. N. HUTCHINSON, B.A., F.G.S.,
Author of ‘Extinct Monsters,’ ‘Creatures of Other Days,’ ‘ Pre-
historic Man and Beast,’ etc. With numerous Illustrations drawn
by Joun THassat and Frep. V. BuRRIDGE. 4fo. 6s.

A set of twenty drawings, with short text to each, to illustrate the humorous aspects
of pre-historic times. They are carefully planned by the author so as to be
scientifically and archeologically correct and at the same time amusing.
Messrs. METHUEN’S ANNOUNCEMENTS y

THE WALLYPUG. IN LONDON. By G. E. Farrow,
Author of ‘The Wallypug of Why.’ With numerous Illustrations.
Crown 8v0. 35. 6d.

An extravaganza for children, written with great charm and vivacity.

RAILWAY NATIONALIZATION. By CLEMENT EDWARDS.

Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. (Soctal Questions Series.

Sport

SPORTING AND ATHLETIC RECORDS. By H. Morcan
BROWNE. Crown 8vo. Is. paper; 15. 6d. cloth.

This book gives, in a clear and complete form, accurate records of the best perform-
ances in all important branches of Sport, It is an attempt, never yet made, to
present all-important sporting records in a systematic way.

THE GOLFING PILGRIM. By Horace G HUvuTCHINSON,
Crown 8vo. 65.

This book, by a famous golfer, contains the following sketches lightly and humorously
written :—The Prologue—The Pilgrim at the Shrine—Mecca out of Season—The
Pilgrim at Home—The Pilgrim Abroad—The Life of the Links—A Tragedy by
the Way—Scraps from the Scrip—The Golfer in Art—Early Pilgrims in the West
‘—An Interesting Relic.

Educational

EVAGRIUS. Edited by PRoressorR LEON PARMENTIER of
Liége and M. Brprz of Gand. Demy 8v0. 7. 6d.
[Byzantine Texts.

THE ODES AND EPODES OF HORACE. Translated by
A. D. Gopity, M.A., Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford.
Crown 8vo. buckran. 25.

ORNAMENTAL DESIGN FOR WOVEN FABRICS. By
C. Srepuenson, of The Technical College, Bradford, and
¥. Supparps, of The Yorkshire College, Leeds. With 65 full-page
plates, and numerous designs and diagrams in the text. Demy 8vo.
75. 6d.

The aim of this book is to supply, in a systematic and practical form, information on
the subject of Decorative Design as applied to Woven Fabrics, and is primarily
intended to meet the requirements of students in Textile and Art Schools, or of
designers actively engaged in the weaving industry. Its wealth of illustration is
a marked feature of the book.

ESSENTIALS OF COMMERCIAL EDUCATION. By
E. E. WHITFIELD, M.A. Crown 8v0. 15. 6a.

A guide to Commercial Education and Examinations,
8 MEssrs. METHUEN’S ANNOUNCEMENTS

PASSAGES FOR UNSEEN TRANSLATION. By E. C.
MarcuanT, M.A., Fellow of Peterhouse, Cambridge; and A. M.
Cook, M.A., late Scholar of Wadham College, Oxford: Assistant
Masters at St. Paul’s School. Crow 8v0. 35. 6d.

This book contains Two Hundred Latin and Two Hundred Greek Passages, and
has been very carefully compiled to meet the wants of V. and VI. Form Boys at
Public Schools. It is also well adapted for the use of Honour men at the
Universities.

EXERCISES ON LATIN ACCIDENCE. By S, E. WIn-
BOLT, Assistant Master at Christ’s Hospital. Crown 8v0. 15. 6d.

An elementary book adapted for Lower Forms to accompany the shorter Latin primer.

NOTES ON GREEK AND LATIN SYNTAX. _ By G.
BUCKLAND GREEN, M.A., Assistant Master at the Edinburgh
Academy, late Fellow of St. John’s College, Oxon. Cr. 8vo. 25. 6d.

Notes and explanations on the chief difficulties of Greek and Latin Syntax, with
numerous passages for exercise.

A DIGEST OF DEDUCTIVE LOGIC. By JOHNSON
BarKER, B.A. Crown 8vo. 25. 6d.

A short introduction to logic for students preparing for examinations.

TEST CARDS IN EUCLID AND ALGEBRA. By D. S.
CALDERWOOD, Headmaster of the Normal School, Edinburgh. In
a Packet of 40, with Answers. Is.

A set of cards for advanced pupils in elementary schools.

HOW TO MAKE A DRESS. By J. A. E. Woop. Illustrated.
Crown 8vo. 15. 6d.

A text-book for students preparing for the City and Guilds examination, based on
the syllabus. The diagrams are numerous.

Fiction
LOCHINVAR. By S. R. CROCKETT, Author of ‘The Raiders,’

etc. Illustrated. Cvowzt 8vo. 6s.

A romance of love and war, the plot of which is laid partly in Holland and partly in
Scotland. The hero, a young cavalier, after serving with the regiment of the
Prince of Orange, takes service under Dundee and fights at Killiecrankie.

THE MUTABLE MANY. By Ropert Barr, Author of ‘In

the Midst of Alarms,’ ‘A Woman Intervenes,’ etc. Crown 8vo. 6s.

THE LADY’S WALK. By Mrs. OLIPHANT. Crown 8vo. 6s.

A new book by this lamented author, somewhat in the style of her ‘Beleagured City.’
Messrs. METHUEN’S ANNOUNCEMENTS 9

TRAITS AND CONFIDENCES. By The Hon. EmiLy Law-
tess, Author of ‘ Hurrish,’ ‘ Maelcho,’ etc. Crows 8vo. 6s.

BLADYS. By S. BaRING GOULD, Author of ‘The Broom
Squire,’ etc. Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND. Crown 8v0. 6s.
A Romance of the last century.

THE POMP OF THELAVILLETTES. By GILBERT PARKER,
Author of ‘ The Seats of the Mighty,’ etc. Crowz 8vo. 35. 6d.

A DAUGHTER OF STRIFE. By JANE HELEN FINDLATER,
Author of ‘ The Green Graves of Balgowrie.’ Crown 8v0. 6s.
A story of 1710.

OVER THE HILLS. By Mary FINDLATER. Crown 8vo. 6s.

A novel by a sister of J. H. Findlater, the author of ‘ The Green Graves of Balgowrie.’

A CREEL OF IRISH TALES. By JANE Bartow, Author
of ‘Irish Idylls.’ Crown 8vo. 6s.

THE CLASH OF ARMS. By J. BLOUNDELLE BURTON,
Author of ‘In the Day of Adversity.’ Crown 8v0. 6s.

A PASSIONATE PILGRIM. By PERcy WHITE, Author of
*Mr. Bailey-Martin.’ Crown 8vo. 65.

SECRETARY TO BAYNE, M.P. By W. PETTY RIDGE.

Crown 8vo. 65.

THE BUILDERS. By J. S. FLETCHER, Author of ‘When

Charles 1. was King.’ Crows 8vo. 6s.
JOSIAH’S WIFE. By NorMA LORIMER. Crown 8vo. 6s.

BY STROKE OF SWORD. By ANDREW BALFOUR. IlIlus-
trated by W. Cugirr CooKE. Crown 8vo. 65.
A romance of the time of Elizabeth

THE SINGER OF MARLY. By IpA Hooper. Illustrated
by W. CuxitT CooKE. Crows 8v0. 6s.
«AV romance of adventure.

KIRKHAM’S FIND. By Mary Gaunt, Author of ‘The
Moving Finger.’ Crown 8vo. 65.

THE FALL OF THE SPARROW. By M. C. BALFOoUR.

Crown 8vo. 65.

SCOTTISH BORDER LIFE. By JAmrs C. DiBDIN. Crown
Bv0. 35. Od.
AZ
A LIST OF

Messrs. METHUEN’S
PUBLICATIONS

 

Poetry

RUDYARD KIPLING’S NEW POEMS

Rudyard Kipling THE SEVEN SEAS. By RupDyYARD
Kipiinc. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. Buckram, gilt top. 6s.

‘The new poems of Mr. Rudyard Kipling have all the spirit and swing of their pre--
decessors. Patriotism is the solid concrete foundation on which Mr. Kipling has
built the whole of his work.'—7imes.

‘ Full of passionate patriotism and the Imperial spirit..—Yorkshire Post.

6 The Empire has found a singer ; it is no depreciation of the songs to say that states-
men may have, one way or other, to take account of them.’—Manchester
Guardian.

‘ Animated through and through with indubitable genius.’—Daily Telegraph.

‘ Packed with inspiration, with humour, with pathos.'— Daily Chronicle.

“All the pride of empire, all the intoxication of power, all the ardour, the energy,
the masterful strength and the wonderful endurance and death-scorning pluck
which are the very bone and fibre and marrow of the British character are here.’
—Daily Mail.

Rudyard Kipling BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS; And
Other Verses. By RuDYARD KIPLING. Zileventh Edition. Crown
8vo. 6s.

‘Mr. Kipling's verse is strong, vivid, full of character. . . . Unmistakable genius
rings in every line.’—7imes.

The ballads teem with imagination, they palpitate with emotion. We read them
with laughter and tears; the metres throb in our pulses, the cunningly ordered
words tingle with life; and if this be not poetry, what is?’—Pal? Mall Gazette.

*Q.” POEMS AND BALLADS. By “Q.,” Author of ‘Green

Bays,’ etc. Crown 8v0. Buckram. 35. 6d.
© This work has just the faint, ineffable touch and glow that make poetry. ‘Q.' has
the true romantic spirit.'—Seaker.

“Q." GREEN BAYS: Verses and Parodies, By “Q.,” Author
of ‘Dead Man’s Rock,’ etc. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d.

‘The verses display a rare and versatile gift of parody, great command of metre, and
a very pretty turn of humour.’—TJimes.

E. Mackay. A SONG OF THE SEA. By ERIC MacKay,
Author of ‘The Love Letters of a Violinist.’ Second Eattion.
Frap. 8v0. 55.

‘ Everywhere Mr. Mackay displays himself the master of a style marked by all the
characteristics of the best rhetoric. He has a keen sense of rhythm and of penteal
balance 3 his verse is excellently sonorous.’—Glete.
MEssrs METHUEN’S LIST Il

Ibsen. BRAND. A Drama by HENRIK IBSEN. Translated by
WILLIAM WILSON. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d.

‘The greatest world-poem of the nineteenth century next to ‘‘Faust." It is in
the same set with ‘‘ Agamemnon,” with ‘‘ Lear,” with the literature that we now
instinctively regard as high and holy.'"—Daily Chronicle.

“A,G.” VERSES TO ORDER. By “A. G.” Cy. 8vo. 25. 6d.
net,

A small volume of verse by a writer whose initials are well known to Oxford men.
‘A capital specimen of light academic poetry. These verses are very bright and
engaging, easy and sufficiently witty. —St. James's Gazette.

Belles Lettres, Anthologies, etc.

R. L. Stevenson. VAILIMA LETTERS. By RoBert Louis
STEVENSON. With an Etched Portrait by WILLIAM STRANG, and
other Illustrations. Second Edition. Crown8vo. Buckram. 1s. 6d.

‘Few publications have in our time been more eagerly awaited than these “‘ Vailima
Letters,” giving the first fruits of the correspondence of Robert Louis Stevenson.
But, high as the tide of expectation has run, no reader can possibly be disappointed
in the result.’—St. James's Gazette.

Henley and Whibley. A BOOK OF ENGLISH PROSE.
Collected by W. E. HENLEY and CHARLES WHIBLEY. Crown8vo. 6s.

‘A unique volume of extracts—an art gallery of early prose.'—Birmingham Post.

‘An admirable companion to Mr. Henley's ‘‘ Lyra Heroica.”'—Saturday Review.

* Quite delightful. A greater treat for those not well acquainted with pre-Restoration
prose could not be imagined.'—A thenaum.

H.C. Beeching. LYRA SACRA: An Anthology of Sacred Verse.
Edited by H. C. BEECHING, M.A. Crown 8v0. Buckram. 65s.

‘ A charming selection, which maintains a lofty standard of excellence.’"— Times.

“Q.”, THE GOLDEN POMP: A Procession of English Lyrics
from Surrey to Shirley, arranged by A. T. QUILLER CoucH. Crown
8v0. Buckram. 65.

‘A delightful volume: a really golden ‘‘ Pomp.”’—Sgectator.

W. B. Yeats) AN ANTHOLOGY OF IRISH VERSE.
Edited by W. B. YEaTs. Crown 8v0. 35. 6d.

‘An attractive and catholic selection.'— Times.

G. W. Steevens)s MONOLOGUES OF THE DEAD. By
G. W. STEEVENS. oolscap 8v0. 35. 6d.

A scries of Soliloquies in which famous men of antiquity—Julius Caesar, Nero
Alcibiades, etc., attempt to express themselves in the modes of thought and
language of to-day. . .

The effect is sometimes splendid, sometimes bizarre, but always amazingly clever.
—Pall Mali Gazette.
12 MEssrs. METHUEN’S LIST

Victor Hugo. THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO.
Translated from the French by F. CLARKE, M.A. Jn Two Volumes.
Demy 8vo. 105. 6d. cach. Vol. 7, 1815-35.

This is the first volume of one of the most interesting and important collection of
letters ever published in France. The correspondence dates from Victor Hugo’s
boyhood to his death, and none of the letters have been published before. The
arrangement is chiefly chronological, but where there is an interesting set of
letters to one person these are arranged together. The first volume contains,
among others, &) Letters to his father ; (2) to his young wife ; ©) to his confessor,
Lamennais; a very important set of about fifty letters to Sainte-Beauve; (5)
letters about his early books and plays. :

‘A charming and vivid picture of a man whose egotism never marred his natural
kindness, and whose vanity did not impair his greatness.'-—Standard.

C. H. Pearson. ESSAYS AND CRITICAL REVIEWS. By
C. H. Pearson, M.A., Author of ‘National Life and Character.’
Edited, with a Biographical Sketch, by H. A. STronc, M.A.,
LL.D. Witha Portrait. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d.

“Remarkable for careful handling, breadth of view, and knowledge.'—Scotsman.
‘ Charming essays.'—Spectator.

W. M. Dixon. A PRIMER OF TENNYSON. By W. M.
Dixon, M.A., Professor of English Literature at Mason College.
Crown 8vo. 25. 6d.

‘Much sound and well-expressed criticism and acute literary judgments. The biblio-
graphy is a boon.’—Speaker.

W. A. Craigie. A PRIMER OF BURNS. By W.A. CRAIGIE.
Crown 8vo, 25. 6d.

This book is planned on a method similar to the ‘ Primer of Tennyson.’ It has also
a glossary.

‘A valuable addition to the literature of the poet.'—T7zmmes.

* An excellent short account.’—Pad/ Mall Gazette.

‘An admirable introduction.’—Glode.

Sterne. THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM
SHANDY. By LawreENce STERNE. With an Introduction by
CHARLES WHIBLEY, and a Portrait. 2 vols. 75.

‘Very dainty voiumes are these; the paper, type, and light-green binding are all
very agreeable to the eye. Svsplex munditits is the phrase that might be applied
to them.'—Globe.

Congreve. THE COMEDIES OF WILLIAM CONGREVE.
With an Introduction by G. S. STREET, and a Portrait. 2 vols. 75.

‘The volumes are strongly bound in green buckram, are of a convenient size, and
pleasant to look upon, so that whether on the shelf, or on the table, or in the hand
the possessor is thoroughly content with them.'"—Guardian.

Morier. THE ADVENTURES OF HAJJI BABA OF
ISPAHAN. By James Moriger. With an Introduction by E. G.
Browns, M.A., and a Portrait. 2 vols. 7s.

Walton. THE LIVES OF DONNE, WOTTON, HOOKER,
WERBERT, anp SANDERSON. By Izaak WALTON. With
an Introduction by VERNON BLACKBURN, and a Portrait. 35. 6d,
MESSRS. METHUEN’S LIST 13

Johnson. THE LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS. By
SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. With an Introduction by J. H. Mitrar,
and a Portrait. 3 vols. 105. 6d,

Burns. THE POEMS OF ROBERT BURNS. Edited by
ANDREW LANG and W. A. Craicie. With Portrait. Demy 8vo,
gtlt top. 6s.

This edition contains a carefully collated Text, numerous Notes, critical and textual,
a critical and biographical Introduction, and a Glossary.

‘Among the editions in one volume, Mr. Andrew Lang’s will take the place of
authority.’— Times.

F. Langbridgee BALLADS OF THE BRAVE: Poems of
Chivalry, Enterprise, Courage, and Constancy. Edited, with Notes,
by Rev. F. LANGBRIDGE. Crown 8v0. Buckram. 35. 6d. School
Edition. 25. 6d.

‘A very happy conception happily carried out. These “Ballads of the Brave” are
intended to suit the real tastes of boys, and will suit the taste of the great majority.’
—Spectator. “The book is full of splendid things.’—Wor/d.

Illustrated Books

Jane Barlow. THE BATTLE OF THE FROGS AND MICE,
translated by JANE Bartow, Author of ‘Irish Idylls,’ and pictured
by F. D. Beprorp. Small 4to. 65. net.

8. Baring Gould. A BOOK OF FAIRY TALES retold by S.
BARING GouLD. With numerous illustrations and initial letters by
ARTHUR J. GASKIN. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. Buckram. 6s.

‘Mr. Baring Gould is deserving of gratitude, in re-writing in honest, simple style the
old stories that delighted the childhood of ‘‘our fathers and grandfathers.” As to
the form of the book, and the printing, which is by Me.srs, Constable, it were
difficult to commend overmuch, —Saturday Review.

8. Baring Gould. OLD ENGLISH FAIRY TALES. Col-
lected and edited by S. BARING GouLD. With Numerous Iliustra-
tions by F. D. BEDFORD. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. Buckram. 6s.

‘A charming volume, which children will be sure to appreciate. The stories have
been selected with great ingenuity from various old ballads and folk-tales, and,
having been somewhat altered and readjusted, now stand forth, clothed in Mr.
Baring Gould's delightful English, to enchant youthful readers.'—Guardian.

S. Baring Gould. A BOOK OF NURSERY SONGS AND
RHYMES. Edited by S. Bartnc GouLp, and Illustrated by the
Birmingham Art School. DBuchkram, gilt top. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘The volume is very complete in its way, as it contains nurscry songs to the number
of 77, game-rhymes, and jingles, To the student we commend the sensible intro-
duction, and the explanatory notes. The volume is superbly printed on soft,
thick paper, which it is a pleasure to touch; and the borders and pictures are
among the very best specimens we have seen of the Gaskin school.'’—Birming-
ham Gazette.
14 Mrssrs. METHUEN’S LIST

H. C. Beeching. A BOOK OF CHRISTMAS VERSE. Edited
by H. C. BeEcuinc, M.A., and Illustrated by WALTER CRANE.
Crown 8vo, gilt top. 55.

A collection of the best verse inspired by the birth of Christ from the Middle Ages
to the present day, A distinction of the book is the large number of poems it
contains by modern authors, a few of which are here printed for the first time.

‘An anthology which, from its unity of aim and high poetic excellence, has a better
right to exist than most of its fellows.'—Guardian.

History

Gibbon. THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN
EMPIRE. By Epwarp Grpson. A New Edition, Edited with
Notes, Appendices, and Maps, by J. B. Bury, M.A., Fellow of
Trinity College, Dublin. Jz Seven Volumes. Demy 8vo. Gilt top.
8s. 6a. each. Also crown 8vo. 6s. each. Vols. I., [1., and III.

©The time has certainly arrived for a new edition of Gibbon’s great work. . . . Pro-
fessor Bury is the right man to undertake this task, His learning is amazing,
both in extent and accuracy. The book is issued in a handy form, and at a
moderate price, and it is admirably printed.'—77mes.

‘The edition is edited as a classic should be edited, removing nothing, yet indicating
the value of the text, and bringing it up to date. It promises to be of the utmost
value, and will be a welcome addition to many libraries.'—Scotsman.

‘This edition, so far as one may judge from the first instalment, is a marvel of
erudition and critical skill, and it is the very minimum of praise to predict that the
seven volumes of it will supersede Dean Milman’s as the standard edition of our
great historical classic.’—Glasgow Herald.

‘ The beau-ideal Gibbon has arrived at last.'—Shetch.
“At last there is an adequate modern edition of Gibbon. . . . The best edition the
nineteenth century could produce.'—Manchester Guardian,

Flinders Petrie. A HISTORY OF EGYPT, FROMTHE EARLIEST
TIMES TO THE PRESENT Day. Edited by W. M. FLINDERS
PETRIE, D.C.L., LL.D., Professor of Egyptology at University
College. Fully Illustrated. In Six Volumes. Crown 8vo. 65. each.

Vol. I. PREHISTORIC Times TO XVI. Dynasty. W. M. F.
Petrie. Third Edition.

Vol. II. THe XVIITH AND XVIIITH Dynasties. W. M. F.
Petrie. Second Edition.

‘A history written in the spirit of scientific precision so worthily represented by Dr.
Petrie and his school cannot but promote sound and accurate study, and
supply a vacant place in the English literature of Egyptology.’—TZimes.

Flinders Petrie. EGYPTIAN TALES. Edited by W. M.
YLINDERS PETRIE. Illustrated by TristRAM Exuis. Z2 Zwo
Volumes. Crowit 8vo. 35. Gd. each.

‘A valuable addition to the literature of comparative folk-lore. The drawings are
really illustrations in the literal sense of the word.'—Glode,

‘It has a scientific value to the student of history and archxology.’—Scotsman.
‘Invaluable as a picture of life in Palestine and Egypt.—Daily News,
MEssrs. METHUEN’S LIST 15

Flinders Petrie EGYPTIAN DECORATIVE ART. By
W. M. FLINDERS Perriz, D.C.L. With 120 Illustrations. Crown
8v0. 35. 6a.

‘Professor Flinders Petrie is not only a profound Egyptologist, but an accomplished
student of comparative archeology. In these lectures, delivered at the Royal
Institution, he displays both qualifications with rare skill in elucidating the
development of decorative art in Egypt, and in tracing its influence on the
art of other countries.’—7zmes.

8S. Baring Gould. THE TRAGEDY OF THE CAESARS.
The Emperors of the Julian and Claudian Lines. With numerous
Illustrations from Busts, Gems, Cameos, etc. By S. BARING GOULD,
Author of ‘Mehalah,’ etc. Fourth Edition. Royal 8vo. 153.

‘A most splendid and fascinating book on a subject of undying interest. The great
feature of the book is the use the author has made of the existing portraits of the
Caesars, and the admirable critical subtlety he has exhibited in dealing with this
line of research. It is brilliantly written, and the illustrations are supplied on a
scale of profuse magnificence.'—Dazly Chronicle.

‘ The volumes will in no sense disappoint the general reader. Indeed, in their way,
there is nothing in any sense so good in English. . . . Mr. Baring Gould has
presented his narrative in such a way as not to make one dull page.’—A theneum.

H. de B. Gibbins. INDUSTRY IN ENGLAND: HISTORI-
CAL OUTLINES. By H. neg B. Grspsins, M.A., D.Litt. With
5 Maps. Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d.

This book is written with the view of affording a clear view of the main facts of
English Social and Industrial History placed in due perspective. Beginning
with prehistoric times, it passes in review the growth and advance of industry
up to the nineteenth century, showing its gradual development and progress.
The book is illustrated by Maps, Diagrams, and Tables.

A. Clark. THE COLLEGES OF OXFORD: Their History
and their Traditions. By Members of the University. Edited by A.
Cuark, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Lincoln College. 8v0. 125. 6d.

‘A work which will certainly be appealed to for many years as the standard book on
the Colleges of Oxford.'—A theneum.

Perrens. THE HISTORY OF FLORENCE FROM 1434
TO 1492. By F. T. PERReNs. Translated by HANNAIL LYNCH.
8v0. 125. 6d.

A history of Florence under the domination of Cosimo, Piero, and Lorenzo de
Medicis.

‘ This is a standard book by an honest and intelligent historian, who has deserved
well ofall who are interested in Italian history.’—Afanchester Guardian.

J. Wells’. A SHORT HISTORY OF ROME. By J. WELLS,
M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Wadham Coll., Oxford. With 4 Maps.

Crown 8vo. 35. 6d.

This book is intended for the Middle and Upper Forms of Public Schools and for
Pass Students at the Universities. It contains copious Tables, etc.

*An original work written on an original plan, and with uncommon freshness and
vigour.’—Speaker,
16 MEssrs. METHUEN’S LIST

E. L. §. Horsburghe THE CAMPAIGN OF WATERLOO.
By E. L. S. Horspurcu, B.A. With Plans. Crown 8vo. 55.

‘A brilliant essay—simple, sound, and thorough.'—Dazly Chronicle.
‘A study, the most concise, the most lucid, the most critical that has been produced.
—Birmingham Mercury,

H.B. George. BATTLES OF ENGLISH HISTORY. By H.B.
GEORGE, M.A., Fellow of New College, Oxford. With numerous
Plans. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘Mr. George has undertaken a very useful task—that of making military affairs in-
telligible and instructive to non-military readers—and has executed it with laud-
able intelligence and industry, and with a large measure of success.’— Times.

O. Browning. ASHORT HISTORY OF MEDIAVAL ITALY,

™ A.D. 1250-1530. By Oscar BROwNING, Fellow and Tutor of King’s

College, Cambridge. Second Edition. In Two Volumes. Crown
8v0. 55. each,

VoL. 1. 1250-1409.—Guelphs and Ghibellines.
VOL. 11. 1409-1530.—The Age of the Condottieri.
‘A vivid picture of medieval Italy.’—Standard.

‘Mr. Browning is to be congratulated on the production of a work of immense
labour and learning.’— Westminster Gazette.

O'Grady. THE STORY OF IRELAND. By STANDISH
O’Grapy, Author of ‘Finn and his Companions.’ Cr. vo. 25. 6d.

{Most delightful, most stimulating. Its racy humour, its original imaginings,
make it one of the freshest, breeziest volumes.’— Methodist Times.

Biography
8. Baring Gould. THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONA-
PARTE. By S. Barinc GouLtp. With over 450 Illustrations in

the Text and 12 Photogravure Plates. Large quarto. Gilt top. 36s.

©The best biography of Napoleon in our tongue, nor have the French as good a
biographer of their hero. A book very nearly as good as Southey’s “‘ Life of
Nelson.” ’—Alanchester Guardian.

‘The main feature of this gorgeous volume is its great wealth of beautiful photo-
gravures and finely-executed wood engravings, constituting a complete pictorial
chronicle of Napoleon I.’s personal history from the days of his early childhood
at Ajaccio to the date of his second interment under the dome of the Invalides in
Paris.'—Daily Telegraph.

‘The most elaborate account of Napoleon ever produced by an English writer.'—
Daily Chronicle.

‘A brilliant and attractive volume. Never before have so many pictures relating
to Napoleon been brought within the limits of an English book.’—Globe.

Particular notice is due to the vast collection of contemporary illustrations.’—
Guardian.

‘Nearly all the illustrations are real contributions to history.’—I] estminster Gazette.

‘The illustrations are of supreme interest.'—Standard,
MESSRS. METHUEN’S LIST 17

Morris Fuller. THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF JOHN
DAVENANT, D.D. (1571-1641), President of Queen’s College,
Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity, Bishop of Salisbury. By
Morris FULLER, B.D. Crown 8vo. 75. 6d. :

* A valuable contribution to ecclesiastical history.'—Birmingham Gazette.

J. M. Rigg. ST. ANSELM OF CANTERBURY: A CHAPTER
IN THE HisToRY OF RELIGION. ByJ.M. Ricc. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d.

‘Mr. Rigg has told the story of the great Primate’s life with scholarly ability, and
has thereby contributed an interesting chapter to the history of the Norman period.’
—Daily Chronicle.

F. W. Joyce. THE LIFE OF SIR FREDERICK GORE
OUSELEY. By F. W. Joycr, M.A. With Portraits and Illustra-
tions. Crown 8vo. 75. 6d.

‘This book has been undertaken in quite the right spirit, and written with sympathy
insight, and considerable literary skill.'—TZismes.

W. G. Collingwood. THE LIFE OF JOHN RUSKIN. By
W. G. CoLLINGWOOD, M.A., Editor of Mr. Ruskin’s Poems. With
numerous Portraits, and 13 Drawings by Mr. Ruskin. Second
Edition. 2vo0ls. 8v0. 325.

“No more magnificent volumes have been published for a long time.'—7ymes.

‘It is long since we had a biography with such delights of substance and of form.
Such a book is a pleasure for the day, and a joy for ever.'—Daily Chronicle.

C. Waldstein. JOHN RUSKIN: a Study. By CHARLES
WALDSTEIN, M.A., Fellow of King’s College, Cambridge. With a
Photogravur Portrait after Professor HERKOMER. ost 8v0. 55.

‘A thoughtful, impartial, well-written criticism of Ruskin’s teaching, intended to
separate what the author regards as valuable and permanent from what is transient
and erroneous in the great master's writing.’—Daily Chronicle.

W. H. Hutton. THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. By
W. H. Hutton, M.A., Author of ‘ William Laud.’ With Portraits.
Crown 8vo. 55.

* The book lays good claim to high rank among, a biographies. It is excellently,

even lovingly, written.’—Scotsman. n excellent monograph.'—TZimes.

Clark Russell. THE LIFE OF ADMIRAL LORD COL-
LINGWOOD. By W. Crark Russet, Author of ‘The Wreck
of the Grosvenor.’ With Illustrations by F. BRancwyn. Third
Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s.

* A book which we should like to see in the hands of every boy in the country.’—
St. James's Gazette. ‘A really good book.'—Saturday Review.

A
18 MeEssrs. METHUEN’S LIST

Southey. ENGLISH SEAMEN (Howard, Clifford, Hawkins,
Drake, Cavendish). By RoBerT SourHEY. Edited, with an
Introduction, by DavipD HANNAY. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘Admirable and well-told stories of our naval history.'—Army and Navy Gazette.
‘A brave, inspiriting book.’—Black and White.

Travel, Adventure and Topography

R. S. 8S. Baden-Powell. THE DOWNFALL OF PREMPEH.
A Diary of Life with the Native Levy in Ashanti, 1895. By Colonel
BADEN-POWELL. With 21 Illustrations and « Map. Demy 8vo.
105. 6d.

© A compact, faithful, most readable record of the campaign.’—Daily News.
‘A bluff and vigorous narrative.’—Glasgow Herald.

R.8.8. Baden-Powell. THE MATEBELE CAMPAIGN 1806.
By Colonel R. S$. 5. BADEN-POWELL. With nearly 100 Illustrations.
Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 155.

‘Written in an unaffectedly light and humorous style. — The World.

‘A very racy and eminently readable book.’—S¢. James’s Gazette.

* As a straightforward account of a great deal of plucky work unpretentiously done,
this book is well worth reading. The simplicity of the narrative is all in its
favour, and accords in a peculiarly English fashion with the nature of the subject.’
Times.

Captain Hinde. THE FALL OF THE CONGO ARABS.
By Srpney L. Hinpe. With Portraits and Plans. Demy 8vo.
125, 6d.

© The book is full of good things, and of sustained interest.'—S¢. James's Gazette.

A graphic sketch of one of the most exciting and important episodes in the struggle
for supremacy in Central Africa between the Arabs and their Europeon rivals.
Apart from the story of the campaign, Captain Hinde’s book is mainly remark-
able for the fulness with which he discusses the question of cannibalism. It is,
indeed, the only connected narrative—in English, at any rate—which has been
published of this particular episode in African history.’—77ies.

‘Captain Hinde’s book is one of the most interesting and valuable contributions yet
miade to the literature of modern Africa.’—Daily News.

W. Crooke. THE NORTH-WEST PROVINCES OF INDIA:
THEIR ETHNOLOGY AND ADMINISTRATION. By W. CROOKE.
With Maps and Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 105. 6d.

‘A carefully and well-written account of one of the most important provinces of the
Empire. In seven chapters Mr. Crocke deals successively with the land in its
physical aspect, the province under Hindoo and Mussulman rule, the province
under British rule, the ethnology and sociology of the province, the religious and
social life of the people, the land and its settlement, and the native peasant in his
relation to the land. The illustrations are good and well selected, and the map is
excellent.’—Alanchester Guardian.
MEssrs. METHUEN’S LIST 19

W.B. Worsfold|. SOUTH AFRICA: Its History and its Future.
By W. BastL Worsrotp, M.A. Witha Map. Second Edition,
Crown 8vo. 65.

‘An intensely interesting book.’—Daily Chronicle.
‘A monumental work compressed into a very moderate compass.’— World.

General Literature

8. Baring Gould. OLD COUNTRY LIFE. By S. BariInc
GouLp, Author of ‘Mehalah,’ etc. With Sixty-seven Illustrations
by W. Parkinson, F. D. BrpForp, and F, Masry. Large
Crown 8vo. 103.6d, Fifth and Cheaper Edition. 6s,

‘Old Country Life,” as healthy wholesome reading, full of breezy life and move-
ment, full of quaint stories vigorously teld, will not be excelled by any book to be
published throughout the year. Sound, hearty, and English to the core.'— World.

8. Baring Gould. HISTORIC ODDITIES AND STRANGE
EVENTS. ByS. BarincGouLp. TZhird Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘A collection of exciting and entertaining chapters. The whole volume is delightful
reading.’—Tinzes.

8. Baring Gould. FREAKS OF FANATICISM. By S. BARING
GouLp. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 65.

‘Mr. Baring Gould has a keen eye for colour and effect, and the subjects he has
chosen give ample scope to his descriptive and analytic faculties. A perfectly
fascinating book.’—Scottish Leader.

8S. Baring Gould. A GARLAND OF COUNTRY SONG:
English Folk Songs with their Traditional Melodies. Collected and
arranged by S. BARING GouLp and TH. FLEETWOOD SHEPPARD.
Demy 4to. 6s.

S. Baring Gould. SONGS OF THE WEST: Traditional
Ballads and Songs of the West of England, with their Traditional
Melodies. Collected by S. BARING GouLp, M.A., and H. Firer-
WooD SHEPPARD, M.A. Arranged for VoiceandTiano, Inq Parts
(containing 25 Songs each), Parts 7., I/., 171, 35. each. Part
LV., 58. Tn one Vol., French morocco, 155.

‘A rich collection of humour, pathos, grace, and poetic fancy.’—Saturday Review.
20 MESSRS. METHUEN’S LIST

8. Baring Gould. YORKSHIRE ODDITIES AND STRANGE
EVENTS. fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

8. Baring Gould. STRANGE SURVIVALS AND SUPER-
STITIONS. With Illustrations. By S. Barinc GouLp. Crown
8v0. Second Edition. 6s.

‘We have read Mr. Baring Gould’s book from beginning to end. _ It is full of quaint
and various information, and there is not a dull page in it.'—Notes and Queries.

S. Baring Gould. THE DESERTS OF SOUTHERN
FRANCE. By S. Barinc:GouLp, With numerous Illustrations
by F. D. Beprorp, 8. Hutton, etc. 2 vols. Demy 8vo, 325.

‘His two richly-illustrated volumes are full of matter of interest to the geologist,
the archzologist, and the student of history and manners,’-—Scotsman.

G. W. Steevens. NAVAL POLICY: WitH A DEscrip-
TION OF ENGLISH AND FOREIGN NAvIES. By G. W. STEEVENS.
Demy 8vo. 6s.

This book is a description of the British and other more important navies of the world,
with a sketch of the lines on which our naval policy might possibly be developed.
It describes our recent naval policy, and shows what our naval force really is. A
detailed but non-technical account is given of the instruments of modern warfare—
guns, armour, engines, and the like—with a view to determine how far we are
abreast of modern invention and modern requirements. An ideal policy is then
sketched for the building and manning of our flect; and the last chapter is
devoted to docks, coaling-stations, and especially colonial defence.

“An extremely able and interesting work.’—Dazily Chronicle.

W. E. Gladstone. CHE SPEECHES AND PUBLIC AD-
DRESSES OF THE RT. HON. W. E. GLADSTONE, M.P.
Edited by A. W. Hutton, M.A., and H. J. Conzn, M.A. With
Portraits. 8vo. Vols. IX. and X. 125. 6d. each.

J. Wells. OXFORD AND OXFORD LIFE. By Members of
the University. Edited by J. WELLS, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of
Wadham College. Crow 8vo. 35. 6d.

“We congratulate Mr. Wells on the production of a readable and intelligent account
of Oxford as it is at the present time, written by persons who are possessed of a
close acquaintance with the system and life of the University.’—A theneunt.

L. Whibley. GREEK OLIGARCHIES : THEIR ORGANISA-
TION AND CHARACTER. By L. Wibiey, M.A., Fellow
of Pembroke College, Cambridge. Crown Svo. 6s.

‘An exceedingly useful handbook: a careful and well-arranged study of an obscure
subject.’ Times.
Mr, Whibley is never tedious or pedantic.’—lall Afall Gazette.
MEssrs. METHUEN’S LIST 21

L. L. Price. ECONOMIC SCIENCE AND PRACTICE.
By L. L. Pricz, M.A., Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. Crown
8v0. 65.

‘ The book is well written, giving evidence of considerable literary ability, and clear
mental grasp of the subject under consideration.'—Western Morning News.

C. F. Andrews. CHRISTIANITY AND THE LABOUR
QUESTION. By C. F. ANDREWS, B.A. Crown 8vo. 25. 6d.

‘A bold and scholarly survey.'—Seaker.

J. §. Shedlock, THE PIANOFORTE SONATA: Its Origin
and Development. ByJ.S.SHEDLOCK. Crown 8vo. 55.

‘This work should be in the possession of every musician and amateur, for it not
only embodies a concise and lucid history of the origin of one of the most im-
portant forms of musical composition, but, by reason of the painstaking research
and accuracy of the author’s statements, it is a very valuable work for reference.’
—Atheneum.

E.M. Bowden, THE EXAMPLE OF BUDDHA: Being Quota-
tions from Buddhist Literature for each Day in the Year. Compiled
by E. M. BowprEn. With Preface by Sir EDwIN ARNOLD. Third
Edition.  6mo. 2s. 6d.

Science

Freudenreich, DAIRY BACTERIOLOGY. A Short Manual
for the Use of Students. By Dr. Ep. voN FREUDENREICH.
Translated from the German by J. R. AINSWORTH Davis, B.A.,
F.C.P. Crown 8vo. 25. 6d.

Chalmers Mitchell OUTLINES OF BIOLOGY. By P.
CHALMERS MITCHELL, M.A., F.Z.S. Lully Illustrated. Crown
8v0, 65.

A text-book designed to cover the new Schedule issued by the Royal College of
Physicians and Surgeons.

G.Massee. A MONOGRAPH OF THE MYXOGASTRES. By
GEORGE Masser. With 12 Coloured Plates. Royal 8vo. 18s. nee.
‘A work much in advance of any book in the language treating of this group of

organisms. It is indispensable to every student of the Myxogastres. ‘Ihe
coloured plates deserve high praise for their accuracy and execution.’—Wature.
22 MEssrs. METHUEN’S LIST

Philosophy

L. T. Hobhouse. THE THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE. By
L. T. Hosnousg, Fellow and Tutor of Corpus College, Oxford.
Demy 8vo. 215.

‘The most important contribution to English philosophy since the publication of Mr.

Bradley’s ‘‘ Appearance and Reality.” Full of brilliant criticism and of positive
theories which are models of lucid statement.'—Glasgow Herald.

‘An elaborate and often brilliantly written volume. The treatment is one of great
freshness, and the illustrations are particularly numerous and apt.’—T7imes.

W. H. Fairbrother. THE PHILOSOPHY OF T. H. GREEN.
By W. H. FarrsroruHer, M.A., Lecturer at Lincoln College,
Oxford. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d.

This volume is expository, not critical, and is intended for senior students at the
Universities and others, as a statement of Green’s teaching, and an introduction to
the study of Idealist Philosophy.

‘In every way an admirable book. As an introduction to the writings of perhaps the
most remarkable speculative thinker whom England has produced in the present
century, nothing could be better.’—Glasgow Herald.

F. W. Bussell. THE SCHOOL OF PLATO: its Origin and
ils Revival under the Roman Empire. By F. W. BussEtt, M.A.,
Fellow and Tutor of Brasenose College, Oxford. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6a.

‘ A highly valuable contribution to the history of ancient thought.’'— Glasgow Herald.

‘A clever and stimulating book, provocative of thought and deserving careful reading.’
—Manchester Guardian.

F.8. Granger. THE WORSHIP OF THE ROMANS. By
F. S. Grancer, M.A., Litt.D., Professor of Philosophy at Univer-
sity College, Nottingham. Crown 8v0. 6s.

‘A scholarly analysis of the religious ceremonies, beliefs, and superstitions of ancient
Rome, conducted in the new instructive light of comparative anthropology.'—
Times.

Theology

E. ©. S. Gibson. THE XXXIX. ARTICLES OF THE
CHURCII OF ENGLAND. Edited with an Introduction by E.
C. §. Gipson, D.D., Vicar of Leeds, late Principal of Wells
Theological College. 2 Two Volumes. Demy 8v0. 188

‘The tone maintained throughout is not that of the partial advocate, but the faithful
exponent.’—Scotsman.

‘There are ample proofs of clearness of expression, sobriety of judgment, and breadth
of view. . . The book will be welcome to all students of the subject, and its sound,
definite, and loyal theology ought to be of great service.’"—Wational Observer.

*So far from repelling the general reader, its orderly arrangement, lucid treatment,
and felicity of diction invite and encourage his attention.'—Jorkshive Post.
MEssrs. METHUEN’S LIST 22

.

R. L. Ottley. THE DOCTRINE OF THE INCARNATION.
By R. L. OTTLEY, M.A., late fellow of Magdalen College, Oxon.,
Principal of Pusey House. Jz Two Volumes. Demy 8vo. 155.

‘Learned and reverent : lucid and well arranged.’—Record.

* Accurate, well ordered, and judicious.’— National Observer.

‘A clear and remarkably full account of the main currents of speculation. Scholarly
precision . . . genuine tolerance . . . intense interest in his subject—are Mr.
Ottley’s merits. —Guardian.

F. B. Jevons. AN INTRODUCTION TO THE HISTORY
OF RELIGION. By F. B. Jevons, M.A., Litt.D., Principal of
Bishop Hatfield’s Hall. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d.

Mr. F. B. Jevons’ ‘Introduction tothe History of Religion’ treats of early religion,
from the point of view of Anthropology and Folk-lore; and is the first attempt
that has been made in any language to weave together the results of recent
investigations into such topics as Sympathetic Magic, Taboo, Totemism.
Fetishism, etc., so as to present a systematic account of the growth of primitive

___ religion and the development of early religious institutions.

“Dr. Jevons has written a notable work, and we can strongly recommend it to the
serious attention of theologians, anthropologists, and classical scholars.’—Man-
chester Guardian.

* The merit of this book lies in the penetration, the singular acuteness and force of the
author’sjudgment. He isat once critical and luminous, at once just and suggestive.
It is but rarely that one meets with a book so comprehensive and so thorough as
this, and it is more than an ordinary pleasure for the reviewer to welcome and
recommend it. Dr. Jevons is something more than an historian of primitive
belief—he is a philosophic thinker, who sees his subject clearly and sees it whole,
whose mastery of detail is no less complete than his view of the broader aspects
and issues of his subject is convincing.’—Birmingham Post.

8. R. Driver. SERMONS ON SUBJECTS CONNECTED
WITH THE OLD TESTAMENT. By S, R. Driver, D.D.,
Canon of Christ Church, Regius Professor of Hebrew in the Uni-
versity of Oxford. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘A welcome companion to the author's famous ‘ Introduction.” Nomancan read these
discourses without feeling that Dr. Driver is fully alive to the deeper teaching of
the Old Testament.’—Guardian.

T. K. Cheyne. FOUNDERS OF OLD TESTAMENT CRITI-
CISM: Biographical, Descriptive, and Critical Studies. By T. K.
CuEYNE, D.D., Oriel Professor of the Interpretation of Holy Scrip-
ture at Oxford. Large crown 8vo. 75. Od.

This book is a historical sketch of O. T. Criticism in the form of biographical studies
from the days of Eichhorn to those of Driver and Robertson Smith.
‘A very learned and instructive work.’—T7imes.

C.H. Prior. CAMBRIDGE SERMONS. Edited by C.H. Prior,
M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Pembroke College. Crow 8vo. 6s.

A volume of sermons preached before the University of Cambridge by various
preachers, including the Archbishop of Canterbury and Bishop Westcott.
A representative collection. LDishop Westcott’s is a noble sermon.’—Guardian.

E. B. Layard. RELIGION IN BOYHOOD. Notes on the
Religious Training of Boys. With a Preface ly J. R. ILLING-
wortH. By E. B. Layarp, M.A. 18mo. 15.
24 MEssrs. METHUEN’S LIST

W. Yorke Faussett. THE DE CATECHIZANDIS
RUDIBUS OF ST. AUGUSTINE. Edited, with Introduction,
Notes, etc., by W. Yorke Fausserr, M.A., late Scholar of Balliol
Coll. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d.

An edition of a Treatise on the Essentials of Christian Doctrine, and the best
methods of impressing them on candidates for baptism.

‘Ably and judiciously edited on the same principle as the ordinary Greek and
Latin texts.’—Glasgow Herald.

Mebotional Books.

With Full-page Illustrations. Feap. 8vo. Buckram. 35. 6d.
Padded morocco, 55.

THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. By THomas A KEmPIs.
With an Introduction by Dean Farrar. Illustrated by C. M.
GERE, and printed in black andred. Second Edition.

‘Amongst all the innumerable English editions of the ‘‘ Imitation,” there can have
been few which were prettier than this one, printed in strong and handsome type,
with all the glory of red initials.’—Glasgow Herald.

THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. By JOHN KEBLE. With an Intro-
duction and Notes by W. Lock, D.D., Warden of Keble College,
Ireland, Professor at Oxford. Illustrated by R. ANNING BELL.

‘The present edition is annotated with all the care and insight to be expected from
Mr. Lock. The progress and circumstances of its composition are detailed in the
Introduction. There is an interesting Appendix on the mss. of the ‘‘ Christian
Year,” and another giving the order in which the poems were written. A ‘‘Short
Analysis of the Thought” is prefixed to each, and any difficulty in the text is ex-
plained in a note.'—Guardian.

‘The most acceptable edition of this ever-popular work.'—Gloe.

Leaders of Religion

Edited by H. C. BEECHING, M.A. With Portraits, crown 8vo.
A series of short biographies of the most prominent leaders
of religious life and thought of all ages and countries. / 6
The following are ready—
CARDINAL NEWMAN. By R. H. HUTTON.
JOHN WESLEY. By J. H. OVERTON, M.A.
BISHOP WILBERFORCE. By G. W. DANIEL, M.A.
CARDINAL MANNING. By A. W. Hutton, M.A.
CHARLES SIMEON. By H.C. G. MOoULE, M.A.
JOHN KEBLE. By WaALtTer Lock, D.D.
THOMAS CHALMERS. By Mrs. OLIPHANT.
LANCELOT ANDREWES. By R. L. OTTLEY, M.A.
AUGUSTINE OF CANTERBURY. By E. L. Currts, D.D.
WILLIAM LAUD. By W. H. Hurvron, B.D.
MEssrs. METHUEN’s LIST 25

JOHN KNOX. By F. M‘Cunn.

JOHN HOWE. By R. F. Horton, D.D.

BISHOP KEN. By F. A. CLARKE, M.A.

GEORGE FOX, THE QUAKER. By T. Hopckin, D.C.L.

Other volumes will be announced in due course.

Fiction
SIX SHILLING NOVELS

Marie Corelli’s Novels
Crown 8v0. 6s. each.

A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS. Sirteenth Edition.
VENDETTA. Thirteenth Edition.
THELMA. Seventeenth Edition.
ARDATH. Tenth Edition.
THE SOUL OF LILITH WMinth Edition.
WORMWOOD. Eighth Edition.

BARABBAS: A DREAM OF THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY.
Thirty first Edition.

‘The tender reverence of the treatment and the imaginative beauty of the writing
have reconciled us to the daring of the conception, and the conviction is forced on
us that even so exalted a subject cannot be made too familiar to us, provided it be
presented in the true spirit of Christian faith. The amplifications of the Scripture
narrative are often conceived with high poetic insight, and this ‘‘ Dream of the
World’s Tragedy” is, despite some trifling incongruities, a lofty and not inade-
quate paraphrase of the supreme climax of the inspired narrative.'—Dudlin
Review,

THE SORROWS OF SATAN. Thirty-sixth Edition.

‘A very powerful piece of work. . . . The conception is magnificent, and is likely
to win an abiding place within the memory of man. . . . The author has immense
command of language, and a limitless audacity. . . . This interesting and re-
markable romance will live long after much of the ephemeral literature of the day
is forgotten. . . . A literary phenomenon . . . novel, and even sublime.’—W. T.
STEap in the Review of Reviews.

Anthony Hope’s Novels
Crown 8vo. 6s. each.

THE GOD IN THE CAR. Seventh Edition.

‘A very remarkable book, deserving of critical analysis impossible within our limit ;
brilliant, but not superficial ; well considered, but not elaborated ; constructed
with the proverbial art that conceals, but yet allows itself to be enjoyed by readers
to whom fine literary method is a keen pleasure.’"— The World.

A CHANGE OF AIR. Fourth Edition.

‘A graceful, vivacious comedy, true to human nature. The characters are traced
with a masterly hand.'—7imes.

A MAN OF MARK. Fourth Edition.
‘Of all Mr. Hope’s books, ‘‘ A Man of Mark” is the one which best compares with
‘(The Prisoner of Zenda.” ’"—National Observer.
26 MESSRS. METHUEN’S LIST

THE CHRONICLES OF COUNTANTONIO. Vhird Edition.
‘It is a perfectly enchanting story of love and chivalry, and pure romance. The
outlawed Count is the most constant, desperate, and withal modest and tender of
lovers, a peerless gentleman, an intrepid Acheter, a very faithful friend, and a most
magnanimous foe.'—Guardian.

PHROSO. Illustrated by H. R. MILLAR. Third Edition.
‘The tale is thoroughly fresh, quick with vitality, stirring the blood, and humorously,
dashingly told.’—S#. James's Gazette.
‘A ad ws adventure, every page of which is palpitating with action and excitement.’
—Speaker.
s rere to cover ‘‘ Phroso” not only engages the attention, but carries the reader
in little whirls of delight from adventure to adventure.’—A cademy.

8. Baring Gould’s Novels

Crown 8vo. 65. each.

‘To say that a book is by the author of ‘‘ Mehalah” is to imply that it contains a
story cast on strong lines, containing dramatic possibilities, vivid and sympathetic
descriptions of Nature, and a wealth of ingenious imagery.’—Sfeaker.

‘That whatever Mr. Baring Gould writes is well worth reading, is a conclusion that
may be very generally accepted. His views of life are fresh and vigorous, his
language pointed and characteristic, the incidents of which he makes use are
striking and original, his characters are life-like, and though somewhat excep-
tional people, are drawn and coloured with artistic force. Add to this that his
descriptions of scenes and scenery are painted with the loving eyes and skilled
hands of a master of his art, that he is always fresh and never dull, and under
such conditions it is no wonder that readers have gained confidence both in his
power of amusing and satisfying them, and that year by year his popularity
widens.'—Court Circular.

ARMINELL: A Social Romance. Fourth Edition.
URITH: A Story of Dartmoor. /2/th Edition.

‘The author is at his best.’"— 7mes.

IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA, Sixth Edition.

‘One of the best imagined and most enthralling stories the author has produced.
—Saturday Review.

MRS. CURGENVEN OF CURGENVEN. Fourth Edition.

‘ The swing of the narrative is splendid.'"—Swssex Daily News.

CHEAP JACK ZITA. Fourth Edition.

‘A powerful drama of human passion.’— Westminster Gazette.
‘A story worthy the author.’—Wational Observer.

THE QUEEN OF LOVE. Fourth Edition.
“You cannot put it down until you have finished it.’—Punch.
‘Can be heartily recommended toall who care for cleanly, energetic, and interesting
fiction.’ —Sussex Daily News.

KITTY ALONE. Fourth Edition.

‘A strong and original story, teeming with graphic description, stirring incident,
and, above all, with vivid and enthralling human interest.'—Darly Telegraph.

NOEMI: A Romance of the Cave-Dwellers. Illustrated by
R. Caton WOODVILLE. Third Edition.
¢« Noémi” is as excellent a tale of fighting and adventure as one may wish to meet.
The narrative also runs clear and sharp as the Loire itself.’— Pal] Malt Gazette.
‘Mr. Baring Gould’s powerful story is full of the strong lights and shadows and
vivid colouring to which he has accustomed us.’—Standard,
MEssrs. METHUEN’S LIST 27

THE BROOM-SQUIRE. Illustrated by FRANK DADD.
Fourth Edition,
‘A strain of tenderness is woven through the web of his tragic tale, and its atmosphere
is sweetened by the nobility and sweetness of the heroine's character.'—Daily News.
‘A story of exceptional interest that seems to us to be better than anything he has
written of late.’—Speaker.

THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. Third Edition.
DARTMOOR IDYLLS.

‘A book to read, and keep and read again; for the genuine fun and pathos of it will
not early lose their effect.'— Vanity Fair.

GUAVAS THE TINNER. Illustrated by Frank Dadd. Second

Edition,

*Mr. Baring Gould is a wizard who transports us into a region of visions, often lurid
and disquieting, but always full of interest and enchantment.’—Sfectator.

“In the weirdness of the story, in the faithfulness with which the characters are
depicted, and in force ofstyle, it closely resembles ‘‘ Mehalah."'—Daily Telegraph.

*There is a kind of flavour about this book which alone elevates it above the ordinary
novel. The story itself has a grandeur in harmony with the wild and rugged
scenery which is its setting.’—A theneum,

Gilbert Parker’s Novels
Crown 8v0. 6s. each.
PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE. Fourth Edition.

‘Stories happily conceived and finely executed. There is strength and genius in Mr.
Parker's style.'—Daily Telegraph.

MRS. FALCHION. Fourth Edition.
‘A splendid study of character.’—A theneum. :
* But little behind anything that has been done by any writer of our time.’—Pal/
Mall Gazette. ‘A very striking and admirable novel.’—S¢. James's Gazette.

THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE.
‘The plot is original and one difficult to work out; but Mr. Parker has done it with
great skill and delicacy. The reader who is not interested in this original, fresh,
and well-told tale must be a dull person indeed.’—Daily Chronicle.

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD. Fifth Edition.

‘Everybody with a soul for romance will thoroughly enjoy ‘‘The Trail of the
Sword.” ’—St. James's Gazette.

‘A rousing and dramatic tale. A book like this, in which swords flash, great sur-
prises are undertaken, and daring deeds done, in which men and women live and
love in the old straightforward passionate way, is a joy inexpressible to the re-
viewer.’—Daily Chronicle.

WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC: The Story of
a Lost Napoleon. ourth Edition,

“Here we find romance—real, breathing, living romance, but it runs flush with our
own times, level with our own feelings. The character of Valmond is drawn un-
erringly; his career, brief as it is, is placed before us as convincingly as history
itself, The book must be read, we may say re-read, for any one thoroughly to
appreciate Mr. Parker's delicate touch and innate sympathy with humanity.’—
Pall Mall Gazette.

“The one work of genius which 1895 has as yet produced.’—Wew Age.

AN ADVENTURER OF THE NORTH: The Last Adven-

tures of ‘Pretty Pierre.’ Second Editiou.
‘The present book is full of fine and moving stories of the great North, and it will
add to Mr. Parker's already high reputation.’—Glasgow //erald.
28 Messrs. METHUEN’S LIST

THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. Jdlustrated. Eighth Edition.

‘The best thing he has done; one of the best things that any one has done lately.’"—
St. James's Gazette. .

‘Mr. Parker seems to become stronger and easier with every serious novel that he
attempts. . . . In ‘‘ The Seats of the Mighty” he shows the matured power which
his former novels have led us to expect, and has produced a really fine historical
novel. . . . Most sincerely is Mr. Parker to be congratulated on the finest
novel he has yet written.’—A theneum.

‘Mr. Parker's latest book places him in the front rank of living novelists. ‘The
Seats of the Mighty” is a great book.’—Black and White.

‘One of the strongest stories of historical interest and adventure that we have read
for many a day. .. . A notable and successful book.'—Speaker.

Conan Doyle. ROUND THE RED LAMP. By A. CONAN
Doyie, Author of ‘The White Company,’ ‘The Adventures of
Sherlock Holmes,’ ete. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 65s.

‘The book is, indeed, composed of leaves from life, and is far and away the best view
that has been vouchsafed us behind the scenes of the consulting-room. It is very
superior to ‘‘ The Diary ofa late Physician.” '—J//ustrated London News.

Stanley Weyman. UNDER THE RED ROBE. By STANLEY
WEYMAN, Author of ‘A Gentleman of France.’ With Twelve Illus-
trations by R. Caton Woodville. Twelfth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

“A book of which we have read every word for the sheer pleasure of reading, and
which we put down with a pang that we cannot forget it all and start again.’—
Westminster Gazette.

‘Every one who reads books at all must read this thrilling romance, from the first
page of which to the last the breathless reader is haled along. An inspiration of
“manliness and courage.” '—Daily Chronicle.

Lucas Malet. THE WAGES OF SIN. By Lucas
Mater. Thirteenth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

Lucas Malet. THE CARISSIMA. By Lucas MAtet,
Author of ‘The Wages of Sin,’ etc. Zhzrd Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

Arthur Morrison. TALES OF MEAN STREETS. By ARTHUR
Morrison. fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

* Told with consummate art and extraordinary detail. He tells a plain, unvarnished
tale, and the very truth of it makes for beauty. In the true humanity of the book
lies its justification, the permanence of its interest, and its indubitable triumph.’"—
A theneuni

‘A great book. The author’s method is amazingly effective, and produces a thrilling
sense of reality. The writer lays upon us a master hand. The book is simply
appalling and irresistible in its interest. It is humorous also; without humour
it would not make the mark it is certain to make.’—World.

Arthur Morrison. A CHILD OF THE JAGO. By ArtruurR

Morrison. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
This, the first long story which Mr. Morrison has written, is like his remarkable
‘Tales of Mean Strects,’ a realistic study of Fast End life.
‘The book is a masterpiece.'—Pal/ Mall Gazette.
‘Told with great vigour and powerful simplicity.’—A theneum.

Mrs. Clifford. A FLASH OF SUMMER. By Mrs, W.K. Cuir-

FORD, Author of ‘Aunt Anne,’ etc. Second Edition. Crown S8vo. 65.

‘ The story is a very sad and a very beautiful one, exquisitely told, and enriched with

many subtle touches of wise and tender insight. It will, undoubtedly, add to its
author's reputation—already high—in the ranks of novelists.'—Speaker,
MESSRS. METHUEN’S LIST 29

Emily Lawless. HURRISH. By the Honble. Emity Law-
Less, Author of ‘Maelcho,’ etc. 2th Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
A reissue of Miss Lawless’ most popular novel, uniform with ‘ Maelcho.’

Emily Lawless. MAELCHO: a Sixteenth Century Romance.
By the Honble. EMity Law ess. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘A really great book.'—Spectator.

‘There is no keener pleasure in life than the recognition of genius. Good work is
commoner than it used to be, but the best is as rare as ever. All the more
gladly, therefore, do we welcome in ‘‘ Maelcho” a piece of work of the first order,
which we do not hesitate to describe as one of the most remarkable literary
achievements of this generation. Miss Lawless is possessed of the very essence
of historical genius.’—Jlanchester Guardian.

J. H. Findlater. THE GREEN GRAVES OF BALGOWRIE.

By JANE H. FINDLATER. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 65.

‘A powerful and vivid story.’—Standard.

‘A beautiful story, sad and strange as truth itself.'\—Vanity Fair.

© A work of remarkable interest and originality.'—Nadtional Observer.

‘A very charming and pathetic tale.’"—Pall Mall Gazette.

‘A singularly original, clever, and beautiful story.’"—Guardian. .

‘© The Green Graves of Balgowrie” reveals to us a new Scotch writer of undoubted
faculty and reserve force.'—Sfectator.

‘An exquisite idyll, delicate, affecting, and beautiful.'—Black and White.

H. G. Wells. THE STOLEN BACILLUS, and other Stories.

By H. G. WELLS, Author of ‘The Time Machine.’ Crown 8v0. 6s.

* The ordinary reader of fiction may be glad to know that these stories are eminently

readable from one cover to the other, but they are more than that ; they are the

impressions of a very striking imagination, which, it would seem, has a great deal
within its reach.’—Saturday Review.

H. G. Wells). THE PLATTNER STORY anpb OtueErs. By H.

G. WELLS. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘Weird and mysterious, they seem to hold the reader as by a magic spell.'—Scotsman.

“Such is the fascination of this writer’s skill that you unhesitatingly prophesy that
none of the many readers, however his flesh do creep, will relinquish the volume
ere he has read from first word to last.’—Black and White.

*No volume has appeared for a long time so likely to give equal pleasure to the
simplest reader and to the most fastidious critic.'—Academy.

‘Mr. Wells is a magician skilled in wielding that most potent of all spells—the fear
of the unknown.'—Daily Telegraph.

fF. F. Benson, DODO: A DETAIL OF THE DAY. By E. F.
BENSON. Szxteenth Edition. Crown 8vo. 65.
‘A delightfully witty sketch of society.'—Spectator.
“A perpetual feast of epigram and paradox.’—Speaker.

E. F. Benson. THE RUBICON. By E. F. BENsoN, Author of
*Dodo.’ Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 65.
‘An exceptional achievement ; a notable advance on his previous work.'—Wational
Observer.

Mrs. Oliphant. SIR ROBERT’S FORTUNE. By Mrs.

OLIPHANT. Crown Svo. 65.

‘ Full of her own peculiar charm of style and simple, subtle character-painting comes
her new gift, the delightful story before us. The scene mostly lies in the moors,
and at the touch of the autboress a Scotch moor becouzies a living thing, strong,
tender, beautiful, and changeful.’—Pall Mall Gazette.
30 Messrs. METHUEN’S LIST

Mrs. Oliphant. THE TWO MARYS. By MRs. OLIPHANT.
Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 65.

W.E. Norris. MATTHEW AUSTIN. By W.E. Norris, Author
of ‘ Mademoiselle de Mersac,’ etc. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘‘Matthew Austin” may safely be pronounced one of the most intellectually satis-
factory and morally bracing novels of the current year."—Daily Telegraph.

W. E. Norris. HIS GRACE. By W. E. Norris. Third
Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘Mr. Norris has drawn a really fine character in the Duke of Hurstbourne, at once
unconventional and very true to the conventionalities of life.'"—.A theneunt.

W. E. Norriss THE DESPOTIC LADY AND OTHERS.
By W. E. Norris. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘A budget of good fiction of which no one will tire.'—Scotsman.

W. E. Norris. CLARISSA FURIOSA. By W. E. Norris,
Author of ‘The Rogue,’ etc. Crown 8v0. 6s.

‘One of Mr. Norris's very best novels. As a story it is admirable, as a jeu desprit
it is capital, as a lay sermon studded with gems of wit and wisdom it is a model
which will not, we imagine, find an efficient imitator.'—Tke World.

‘The best novel he has written for some time: a story which is full of admirable
character-drawing.’—The Standard.

Robert Barr. IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS. By RoBERT

Barr. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘A book which has abundantly satisfied us by its capital humour.’—Daily Chronicle.
‘Mr. Barr has achieved a triumph whereof he has every reason to be proud.’—FPad/
Mall Gazette.

J. Maclaren Cobban. THE KING OF ANDAMAN: A

Saviour of Society. By J. MACLAREN COBBAN. Crown 8vo. 6s.

* An unquestionably interesting book. It would not surprise us if it turns out to be
the most interesting novel of the season, for it contains one character, at least,
who has in him the root of immortality, and the book itself is ever exhaling the
sweet savour of the unexpected. . . . Plot is forgotten and incident fades, and
only the really human endures, and throughout this book there stands out in bold
and beautiful relief its high-souled and chivalric protagonist, James the Master
of Hutcheon, the King of Andaman himself.’—Pal/ Mall Gazette.

J. Maclaren Cobban. WILT THOU HAVE THIS WOMAN?
By J. M. Copzan, Author of ‘ The King of Andaman.’ Crow 8vo. 65.

‘Mr. Cobban has the true story-teller's art. He arrests attention at the outset, and
he retains it to the end.'— Birmingham Post.

H. Morrah. A SERIOUS COMEDY. By HERBERT MoRRAH.
Crown 8vo. 65.

‘This volume is well worthy of its title. The theme has seldom been presented with
more freshness or more force.’—Scotsman.
MEssRS. METHUEN’S LIST 31

H, Morrah, THE FAITHFULCITY. By HERBERT MorRRAH,
Author of ‘A Serious Comedy.’ Crowz 8v0. 6s.

‘Conveys a suggestion of weirdness and horror, until finally he convinces and
enthrals the reader with his mysterious savages, his gigantic tower, and his
uncompromising men and women. This is a haunting, mysterious book, not
without an element of stupendous grandeur.’—A thenaunt.

L. B. Walford. SUCCESSORS TO THE TITLE. By Mrs.
Wa trorp, Author of ‘ Mr.Smith,’etc. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘The story is fresh and healthy from beginning to finish; and our liking for the two
simple people who are the successors to the title mounts steadily, and ends almost
in respect. —Scotsman.

T. L. Paton. A HOME IN INVERESK. By T. L. Paton.
Crown 8vo. 6s.
“A pleasant and well-written story.'—Daily Chronicle.

John Davidson. MISS ARMSTRONG’S AND OTHER CIR-
CUMSTANCES. By JoHNn Davipson. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘Throughout the volume there is a strong vein of originality, and a knowledge of
human nature that are worthy of the highest praise.’—Scotsman.

M. M. Dowie. GALLIA. By MENIE MuRIEL Dowie, Author
of ‘A Girl in the Carpathians.’ Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
‘The style is generally admirable, the dialogue not seldom brilliant, the situations
surprising in their freshness and originality, while the subsidiary as well as the
principal characters live and move, and the story itself is readable from title-page
to colophona.’—Saturday Review.

J. A. Barry. IN THE GREAT DEEP: TALES OF THE SEA.
ByJ. A. Barry. Author of ‘Steve Brown’s Bunyip.’ Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘A collection of really admirable short stories of the sea, very simply told, and placed
before the reader in pithy and telling English.'—Westminster Gazette.

J. B. Burton. IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY. By J. BLoun-
DELLE BuRTON.’ Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
‘Unusually interesting and full of highly dramatic situations.’—Guardian.

J. B. Burton. DENOUNCED. By J. BLOUNDELLE BuRTON.
Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

The plot is an original one, and the local colouring is laid on with a delicacy
and an accuracy of detail which denote the true artist.’—Broad Arrow.

W. OC. Scully) THE WHITE HECATOMB. By W. C.
Scutzy, Author of ‘ Kafir Stories.’ Crown 80. 6s.

©The author is so steeped in Kaffir lore and legend, and so thoroughly well acquainted
with native sagas and traditional ceremonial that he is able to attract the reader
by the easy familiarity with which he handles his characters.’—South Africa.

“It reveals a marvellously intimate understanding of the Kaflir mind, allied with
literary gifts of no mean order.’—A/rican Critic.

H. Johnston. DR. CONGALTON’S LEGACY.. By HENRY
‘JOHNSTON. Crown 8vo. 65.
‘ A worthy and permanent contribution to Scottish literature." —Clasgow eral,
32 MEssRS. METHUEN’S LIST

J. F. Brewer. THE SPECULATORS. By J. F. BREWER.
Crown 8v0. 65.
‘A pretty bit of comedy... . It is undeniably a clever boox.'—Academy.
‘A clever and amusing story. It makes capital out of the comic aspects of culture,
and will be read with amusement by every intellectual reader. —Scotsman.
‘A remarkably clever study.’—Vanity Fair.

Julian Corbett. A BUSINESS IN GREAT WATERS. By

JULIAN CORBETT. Crown 8z0. 6s.

‘Mr. Corbett writes with immense spirit, and the book is a thoroughly enjoyable
one in all respects. The salt of the ocean is in it, and the right heroic ring re-
sounds through its gallant adventures.’—Sfeaker.

L. Cope Cornford. CAPTAIN JACOBUS: A ROMANCE OF
THE ROAD. By L. CopECornNForD. Illustrated. Crown 8vo. 6s.

* An exceptionally good story of adventure and character.'—Wor/d.

C. P. Wolley. THE QUEENSBERRY CUP. A Tale of
Se ea By Cuive PHILLIPS WoLLEY. Jilustrated. Crown
v0. Se

“A book which will delight boys: a book which upholds the healthy schoolboy code
of morality.’—Scotsman.

L. Daintrey. THE KING OF ALBERIA. A Romance of

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