The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (76 page)

Who, pressing me with contumelies, dare

Such things as past the power of utt’rance are.

But heav’n’s great pow’rs have graced my destiny

With no such honour. Both my sire and I

Are born to suffer everlastingly.’

‘Because you name those wooers, friend,’ said he,

‘Report says many such, in spite of thee,

Wooing thy mother, in thy house commit

The ills thou nam’st. But say: proceedeth it

From will in thee to bear so foul a foil,

Or from thy subjects’ hate, that wish thy spoil,

And will not aid thee, since their spirits rely,

Against thy rule, on some grave augury?

What know they, but at length thy father may

Come, and with violence their violence pay –

Or he alone, or all the Greeks with him?

But if Minerva now did so esteem

Thee, as thy father in times past, whom past

All measure she with glorious favours grac’d

Amongst the Trojans, where we suffer’d so

(O, I did never see in such clear show,

The gods so grace a man, as she to him,

To all our eyes, appear’d in all her trim) –

If so, I say, she would be pleased to love,

And that her mind’s care thou so much couldst move,

As did thy father, every man of these

Would lose in death their seeking marriages.’

‘O father,’ answer’d he, ‘you make amaze

Seize me throughout. Beyond the height of phrase

You raise expression; but ’twill never be,

That I shall move in any deity

So blest an honour. Not by any means,

If hope should prompt me, or blind confidence

(The god of fools), or every deity

Should will it; for ’tis past my destiny.’

The burning-eyed dame answer’d: ‘What a speech

Hath pass’d the teeth-guard Nature gave to teach

Fit question of thy words before they fly!

god easily can (when to a mortal eye

He’s furthest of
f
) a mortal satisfy,

And does the more still. For thy car’d-for sire,

I rather wish that I might home retire,

After my suf
f
’
rance of a world of woes

Far off, and then my glad eyes might disclose

The day of my return, than straight retire,

And perish standing by my household fire

As Agamemnon did, that lost his life

By false Aegisthus, and his falser wife.

For death to come at length, ’tis due to all;

Nor can the gods themselves, when fate shall call

Their most lov’d man, extend his vital breath

Beyond the fix’d bounds of abhorred death.’

‘Mentor!’ said he, ‘let’s dwell no more on this,

Although in us the sorrow pious is.

No such return as we wish fates bequeath

My erring father, whom a present death

The deathless have decreed. I’ll now use speech

That tends to other purpose, and beseech

Instruction of grave Nestor, since he flows

Past shore in all experience, and knows

The sleights and wisdoms, to whose heights aspire

Others, as well as my commended sire,

Whom fame reports to have commanded three

Ages of men, and doth in sight to me

Show like th’ immortals: ‘Nestor, the renown

Of old Neleius, make the clear truth known,

How the most great in empire, Atreus’ son,

Sustain’d the act of his destruction.

Where then was Menelaus? How was it

That false Aegisthus, being so far unfit

A match for him, could his death so
enforce?

Was he not then in Argos, or his course

With men so left, to let a coward breathe

Spirit enough to dare his brother’s death?’

‘I’ll tell thee truth in all, fair son,’ said he:

‘Right well was this event conceiv’d by thee.

If Menelaus in his brother’s house

Had found the idle liver with his spouse,

Arriv’d from Troy, he had not liv’d, nor dead

Had the digg’d heap pour’d on his lustful head,

But fowls and dogs had torn him in the fields,

Far off of Argos; not a dame it yields

Had given him any tear, so foul his fact

Show’d even to women. Us Troy’s wars had rack’d

To every sinew’s sufferance, while he

In Argos’ uplands liv’d, from those works free,

And Agamemnon’s wife with force of word

Flatter’d and soften’d, who, at first, abhorr’d

A fact so infamous. The heav’nly dame

A good mind had, but was in blood to blame.

There was a poet, to whose care the king

His queen committed, and in every thing,

When he from Troy went, charg’d him to apply

Himself in all guard to her dignity.

But when strong Fate so wrapt-in her effects

That she resolv’d to leave her fit respects,

Into a desert isle her guardian led

(There left), the rapine of the vultures fed.

Then brought he willing home his will’s won prize,

On sacred altars offer’d many thighs,

Hung in the gods’ fanes many ornaments,

Garments and gold, that he the vast events

Of such a labour to his wish had brought,

As
neither fell into his hope nor thought.

At last, from Troy sail’d Sparta’s king and I,

Both holding her untouch’d. And, that his eye

Might see no worse of her, when both were blown

To sacred Sunium, of Minerva’s town

The goodly promontory, with his shafts severe

Augur Apollo slew him that did steer

Atrides’ ship, as he the stern did guide,

And she the full speed of her sail applied.

He was a man that nations of men

Excell’d in safe guide of a vessel, when

A tempest rush’d in on the ruffled seas;

His name was Phrontis Onetorides.

And thus was Menelaus held from home,

Whose way he thirsted so to overcome,

To give his friend the earth, being his pursuit,

And all his exsequies to execute.

But sailing still the wine-hued seas, to reach

Some shore for fit performance, he did fetch

The steep mount of the Malians; and there,

With open voice, offended Jupiter

Proclaim’d the voyage his repugnant mind,

And pour’d the puffs out of a shrieking wind,

That nourish’d billows heighten’d like to hills,

And with the fleet’s division fulfils

His hate proclaim’d, upon a part of Crete

Casting the navy, where the sea-waves meet

Rough Jardanus, and where the Cydons live.

There is a rock, on which the sea doth drive,

Bare, and all broken, on the confines set

Of Gortys, that the dark seas likewise fret;

And hither sent the South a horrid drift

Of waves against the top, that was the left

Of that torn cliff as far as Phaestus’ strand.

A little stone the great sea’s rage did stand.

The men here driven ’scap’d hard the ships’ sore shocks,

The ships themselves being wrack’d against the rocks,

Save only five, that blue forecastles bore,

Which wind and water cast on Egypt’s shore.

When he (there vict’ling well, and store of gold

Aboard his ships brought) his wild way did hold,

And t’ other-languag’d men was forced to roam.

Mean space Aegisthus made sad work at home,

And slew his brother, forcing to his sway

Atrides’ subjects, and did seven years lay

His yoke upon the rich Mycenian state.

But in the eighth, to his affrighting fate,

Divine Orestes home from Athens came,

And what his royal father felt, the same

He made the false Aegisthus groan beneath.

Death evermore is the reward of death.

Thus having slain him, a sepulchral feast

He made the Argives for his lustful guest,

And for his mother whom he did detest.

The selfsame day upon him stole the king

Good-at-a-martial-shout, and goods did bring,

As many as his freighted fleet could bear.

But thou, my son, too long by no means err,

Thy goods left free for many a spoilful guest,

Lest they consume some, and divide the rest,

And thou, perhaps, besides, thy voyage lose.

To Menelaus yet thy course dispose,

I wish and charge thee; who but late arriv’d

From such a shore and men, as to have liv’d

In a return from them he never thought,

And whom black whirlwinds violently brought

Within a sea so vast, that in a year

Not any fowl could pass it anywhere,

So huge and horrid was it. But go thou

With ship and men (or, if thou pleasest now

To pass by land, there shall be brought for thee

Both horse and chariot, and thy guides shall be

My sons themselves) to Sparta the divine,

And to the king whose looks like amber shine.

Intreat the truth of him, nor loves he lies;

Wisdom in truth is, and he’s passing wise.’

This said, the sun went down, and up rose night,

When Pallas spake: ‘O father, all good right

Bear thy directions. But divide we now

The sacrifices’ tongues, mix wines, and vow

To Neptune and the other ever-blest,

That, having sacrific’d, we may to rest.

The fit hour runs now, light dives out of date,

At sacred feasts we must not sit too late.’

She said; they heard; the herald water gave;

The youths crown’d cups with wine, and let all have

Their equal shares, beginning from the cup

Their parting banquet. All the tongues cut up,

The fire they gave them sacrific’d, and rose,

Wine, and divine rites us’d, to each dispose.

Minerva and Telemachus desir’d

They might to ship be, with his leave, retir’d.

He, mov’d with that, provok’d thus their abodes:

‘Now Jove forbid, and all the long-liv’d gods,

Your leaving me, to sleep aboard a ship –

As I had drunk of poor Penia’s whip,

Even to my nakedness, and had nor sheet

Nor covering in my house, that warm nor sweet

A guest nor I myself had means to sleep;

Where I both weeds and wealthy coverings keep

For all my guests. Nor shall fame ever say

The dear son of the man Ulysses lay

All night a-shipboard here while my days shine,

Or in my court whiles any son of mine

Enjoys survival, who shall guests receive,

Whomever my house hath a nook to leave.’

‘My much-lov’d father,’ said Minerva, ‘well

All this becomes thee. But persuade to dwell

This night with thee thy son Telemachus,

For more convenient is the course for us,

That he may follow to thy house and rest,

And I may board our black-sail, that address’d

At all parts I may make our men, and cheer

All with my presence, since of all men there

I boast myself the senior; th’ others are

Youths, that attend in free and friendly care

Great-soul’d Telemachus, and are his peers

In fresh similitude of form and years.

For their confirmance, I will therefore now

Sleep in our black bark. But when light shall show

Her silver forehead, I intend my way

Amongst the Caucons, men that are to pay

A debt to me, nor small, nor new. For this,

Take you him home; whom in the morn dismiss,

With chariot and your sons, and give him horse

Ablest in strength, and of the speediest course.’

This said, away she flew, form’d like the fowl

Men call the ossifrage; when every soul

Amaze invaded; even th’ old man admir’d,

The youth’s hand took, and said: ‘O most desir’d,

My hope says thy proof will no coward show,

Nor one unskill’d in war, when deities now

So young attend thee, and become thy guides –

Nor any of the heav’n-hous’d states besides

But Tritogeneia’s self, the seed of Jove,

The great-in-prey, that did in honour move

So much about thy father, amongst all

The Grecian army. Fairest queen, let fall

On me like favours! Give me good renown!

Which as on me, on my lov’d wife let down,

And all my children. I will burn to thee

An ox right bred, broad-headed and yoke-free,

To no man’s hand yet humbled. Him will I,

His horns in gold hid, give thy deity.’

Thus pray’d he, and she heard; and home he led

His sons, and all his heaps of kindered.

Who ent’ring his court royal, every one

He marshall’d in his several seat and throne.

And every one, so kindly come, he gave

His sweet-wine cup; which none was let to have

Before his ’leventh year landed him from Troy;

Which now the butleress had leave t’ employ,

Who therefore pierc’d it, and did give it vent.

Of this the old duke did a cup present

To every guest; made his Maid many a prayer

That wears the shield fring’d with his nurse’s hair,

And gave her sacrifice. With this rich wine

And food sufficed, sleep all eyes did decline,

And all for home went; but his court alone

Telemachus, divine Ulysses’ son,

Must make his lodging, or not please his heart.

A bed, all chequer’d with elaborate art,

Within a portico that rung like brass,

He brought his guest to; and his bedfere was

Pisistratus, the martial guide of men,

That liv’d, of all his sons, unwed till then.

Himself lay in a by-room, far above,

His bed made by his barren wife, his love.

The rosy-finger’d morn no sooner shone,

But up he rose, took air, and sat upon

A seat of white and goodly polish’d stone,

That such a gloss as richest ointments wore

Before his high gates; where the counsellor

That match’d the gods (his father) used to sit,