Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book II

ARGUMENT     Telemachus having convened an assembly of the Greecians, publicly calls on the Suitors to relinquish the house of Ulysses. During the continuance of the Council he has much to suffer from the petulance of the Suitors, from whom, having informed them of his design to undertake a voyage in hope to obtain news of Ulysses, he asks a ship, with all things necessary for the purpose. He is refused, but is afterwards furnished with what he wants by Minerva, in the form of Mentor. He embarks in the evening without the privity of his mother, and the Goddess sails with him.             Aurora, rosy daughter of the dawn,             Now ting'd the East, when habited again,             Uprose Ulysses' offspring from his bed.             Athwart his back his faulchion keen he flung,             His sandals bound to his unsullied feet,             And, godlike, issued from his chamber-door.             At once the clear-voic'd heralds he enjoin'd             To call the Greeks to council; they aloud             Gave forth the summons, and the throng began.             When all were gather'd, and the assembly full,             Himself, his hand arm'd with a brazen spear,             Went also; nor alone he went; his hounds             Fleet-footed follow'd him, a faithful pair.             O'er all his form Minerva largely shed             Majestic grace divine, and, as he went,             The whole admiring concourse gaz'd on him,             The seniors gave him place, and down he sat             On his paternal Throne. Then grave arose             The Hero, old gyptius; bow'd with age             Was he, and by experience deep-inform'd.             His son had with Ulysses, godlike Chief,             On board his fleet to steed-fam'd Ilium gone,             The warrior Antiphus, whom in his cave             The savage Cyclops slew, and on his flesh             At ev'ning made obscene his last regale.             Three sons he had beside, a suitor one,             Eurynomus; the other two, employ             Found constant managing their Sire's concerns.             Yet he forgat not, father as he was             Of these, his absent eldest, whom he mourn'd             Ceaseless, and thus his speech, weeping, began.                 Hear me, ye men of Ithaca, my friends!             Nor council here nor session hath been held             Since great Ulysses left his native shore.             Who now convenes us? what especial need             Hath urged him, whether of our youth he be,             Or of our senators by age matured?             Have tidings reach'd him of our host's return,             Which here he would divulge? or brings he aught             Of public import on a diff'rent theme?             I deem him, whosoe'er he be, a man             Worthy to prosper, and may Jove vouchsafe             The full performance of his chief desire!                 He ended, and Telemachus rejoiced             In that good omen. Ardent to begin,             He sat not long, but, moving to the midst,             Received the sceptre from Pisenor's hand,             His prudent herald, and addressing, next,             The hoary Chief gyptius, thus began.                 Not far remote, as thou shalt soon thyself             Perceive, oh venerable Chief! he stands,             Who hath convened this council. I, am He.             I am in chief the suff'rer. Tidings none             Of the returning host I have received,             Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aught             Of public import on a different theme,             But my own trouble, on my own house fall'n,             And two-fold fall'n. One is, that I have lost             A noble father, who, as fathers rule             Benign their children, govern'd once yourselves;             The other, and the more alarming ill,             With ruin threatens my whole house, and all             My patrimony with immediate waste.             Suitors, (their children who in this our isle             Hold highest rank) importunate besiege             My mother, though desirous not to wed,             And rather than resort to her own Sire             Icarius, who might give his daughter dow'r,             And portion her to whom he most approves,             (A course which, only named, moves their disgust)             They chuse, assembling all within my gates             Daily to make my beeves, my sheep, my goats             Their banquet, and to drink without restraint             My wine; whence ruin threatens us and ours;             For I have no Ulysses to relieve             Me and my family from this abuse.             Ourselves are not sufficient; we, alas!             Too feeble should be found, and yet to learn             How best to use the little force we own;             Else, had I pow'r, I would, myself, redress             The evil; for it now surpasses far             All suff'rance, now they ravage uncontroul'd,             Nor show of decency vouchsafe me more.             Oh be ashamed[6] yourselves; blush at the thought             Of such reproach as ye shall sure incur             From all our neighbour states, and fear beside             The wrath of the Immortals, lest they call             Yourselves one day to a severe account.             I pray you by Olympian Jove, by her             Whose voice convenes all councils, and again             Dissolves them, Themis, that henceforth ye cease,             That ye permit me, oh my friends! to wear             My days in solitary grief away,             Unless Ulysses, my illustrious Sire,             Hath in his anger any Greecian wrong'd,             Whose wrongs ye purpose to avenge on me,             Inciting these to plague me. Better far             Were my condition, if yourselves consumed             My substance and my revenue; from you             I might obtain, perchance, righteous amends             Hereafter; you I might with vehement suit             O'ercome, from house to house pleading aloud             For recompense, till I at last prevail'd.             But now, with darts of anguish ye transfix             My inmost soul, and I have no redress.                 He spake impassion'd, and to earth cast down             His sceptre, weeping. Pity at that sight             Seiz'd all the people; mute the assembly sat             Long time, none dared to greet Telemachus             With answer rough, till of them all, at last,             Antinos, sole arising, thus replied.                 Telemachus, intemp'rate in harangue,             High-sounding orator! it is thy drift             To make us all odious; but the offence             Lies not with us the suitors; she alone             Thy mother, who in subtlety excels,             And deep-wrought subterfuge, deserves the blame.             It is already the third year, and soon             Shall be the fourth, since with delusive art             Practising on their minds, she hath deceived             The Greecians; message after message sent             Brings hope to each, by turns, and promise fair,             But she, meantime, far otherwise intends.             Her other arts exhausted all, she framed             This stratagem; a web of amplest size             And subtlest woof beginning, thus she spake.             Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief             Ulysses is no more, press not as yet             My nuptials, wait till I shall finish, first,             A fun'ral robe (lest all my threads decay)             Which for the antient Hero I prepare,             Laertes, looking for the mournful hour             When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;             Else I the censure dread of all my sex,             Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud.             So spake the Queen, and unsuspicious, we             With her request complied. Thenceforth, all day             She wove the ample web, and by the aid             Of torches ravell'd it again at night.             Three years by such contrivance she deceived             The Greecians; but when (three whole years elaps'd)             The fourth arriv'd, then, conscious of the fraud,             A damsel of her train told all the truth,             And her we found rav'ling the beauteous work.             Thus, through necessity she hath, at length,             Perform'd the task, and in her own despight.             Now therefore, for the information clear             Of thee thyself, and of the other Greeks,             We answer. Send thy mother hence, with charge             That him she wed on whom her father's choice             Shall fall, and whom she shall, herself, approve.             But if by long procrastination still             She persevere wearing our patience out,             Attentive only to display the gifts             By Pallas so profusely dealt to her,             Works of surpassing skill, ingenious thought,             And subtle shifts, such as no beauteous Greek             (For aught that we have heard) in antient times             E'er practised, Tyro, or Alcemena fair,             Or fair Mycene, of whom none in art             E'er match'd Penelope, although we yield             To this her last invention little praise,             Then know, that these her suitors will consume             So long thy patrimony and thy goods,             As she her present purpose shall indulge,             With which the Gods inspire her. Great renown             She to herself insures, but equal woe             And devastation of thy wealth to thee;             For neither to our proper works at home             Go we, of that be sure, nor yet elsewhere,             Till him she wed, to whom she most inclines.                 Him prudent, then, answer'd Telemachus.             Antinos! it is not possible             That I should thrust her forth against her will,             Who both produced and reared me. Be he dead,             Or still alive, my Sire is far remote,             And should I, voluntary, hence dismiss             My mother to Icarius, I must much             Refund, which hardship were and loss to me.             So doing, I should also wrath incur             From my offended Sire, and from the Gods             Still more; for she, departing, would invoke             Erynnis to avenge her, and reproach             Beside would follow me from all mankind.             That word I, therefore, never will pronounce.             No, if ye judge your treatment at her hands             Injurious to you, go ye forth yourselves,             Forsake my mansion; seek where else ye may             Your feasts; consume your own; alternate feed             Each at the other's cost. But if it seem             Wisest in your account and best to eat             Voracious thus the patrimonial goods             Of one man, rend'ring no account of all,             Bite to the roots; but know that I will cry             Ceaseless to the eternal Gods, in hope             That Jove, in retribution of the wrong,             Shall doom you, where ye have intruded, there             To bleed, and of your blood ask no account.                 So spake Telemachus, and while he spake,             The Thund'rer from a lofty mountain-top             Turn'd off two eagles; on the winds, awhile,             With outspread pinions ample side by side             They floated; but, ere long, hov'ring aloft,             Right o'er the midst of the assembled Chiefs             They wheel'd around, clang'd all their num'rous plumes,             And with a downward look eyeing the throng,             Death boded, ominous; then rending each             The other's face and neck, they sprang at once             Toward the right, and darted through the town.             Amazement universal, at that sight,             Seized the assembly, and with anxious thought             Each scann'd the future; amidst whom arose             The Hero Halitherses, antient Seer,             Offspring of Mastor; for in judgment he             Of portents augural, and in forecast             Unerring, his coevals all excell'd,             And prudent thus the multitude bespake.                 Ye men of Ithaca, give ear! hear all!             Though chief my speech shall to the suitors look,             For, on their heads devolved, comes down the woe.             Ulysses shall not from his friends, henceforth,             Live absent long, but, hasting to his home,             Comes even now, and as he comes, designs             A bloody death for these, whose bitter woes             No few shall share, inhabitants with us             Of pleasant Ithaca; but let us frame             Effectual means maturely to suppress             Their violent deeds, or rather let themselves             Repentant cease; and soonest shall be best.             Not inexpert, but well-inform'd I speak             The future, and the accomplishment announce             Of all which when Ulysses with the Greeks             Embark'd for Troy, I to himself foretold.             I said that, after many woes, and loss             Of all his people, in the twentieth year,             Unknown to all, he should regain his home,             And my prediction shall be now fulfill'd.                 Him, then, Eurymachus thus answer'd rough             The son of Polybus. Hence to thy house,             Thou hoary dotard! there, prophetic, teach             Thy children to escape woes else to come.             Birds num'rous flutter in the beams of day,             Not all predictive. Death, far hence remote             Hath found Ulysses, and I would to heav'n             That, where he died, thyself had perish'd too.             Thou hadst not then run o'er with prophecy             As now, nor provocation to the wrath             Giv'n of Telemachus, in hope to win,             Perchance, for thine some favour at his hands.             But I to _thee_ foretell, skilled as thou art             In legends old, (nor shall my threat be vain)             That if by artifice thou move to wrath             A younger than thyself, no matter whom,             Woe first the heavier on himself shall fall,             Nor shalt thou profit him by thy attempt,             And we will charge thee also with a mulct,             Which thou shalt pay with difficulty, and bear             The burthen of it with an aching heart.                 As for Telemachus, I him advise,             Myself, and press the measure on his choice             Earnestly, that he send his mother hence             To her own father's house, who shall, himself,             Set forth her nuptial rites, and shall endow             His daughter sumptuously, and as he ought.             For this expensive wooing, as I judge,             Till then shall never cease; since we regard             No man--no--not Telemachus, although             In words exub'rant; neither fear we aught             Thy vain prognostics, venerable sir!             But only hate thee for their sake the more.             Waste will continue and disorder foul             Unremedied, so long as she shall hold             The suitors in suspense, for, day by day,             Our emulation goads us to the strife,             Nor shall we, going hence, seek to espouse             Each his own comfort suitable elsewhere.                 To whom, discrete, Telemachus replied.             Eurymachus, and ye the suitor train             Illustrious, I have spoken: ye shall hear             No more this supplication urged by me.             The Gods, and all the Greeks, now know the truth.             But give me instantly a gallant bark             With twenty rowers, skill'd their course to win             To whatsoever haven; for I go             To sandy Pylus, and shall hasten thence             To Lacedemon, tidings to obtain             Of my long-absent Sire, or from the lips             Of man, or by a word from Jove vouchsafed             Himself, best source of notice to mankind.             If, there inform'd that still my father lives,             I hope conceive of his return, although             Distress'd, I shall be patient yet a year.             But should I learn, haply, that he survives             No longer, then, returning, I will raise             At home his tomb, will with such pomp perform             His fun'ral rites, as his great name demands,             And give my mother's hand to whom I may.                 This said, he sat, and after him arose             Mentor, illustrious Ulysses' friend,             To whom, embarking thence, he had consign'd             All his concerns, that the old Chief might rule             His family, and keep the whole secure.             Arising, thus the senior, sage, began.                 Hear me, ye Ithacans! be never King             Henceforth, benevolent, gracious, humane             Or righteous, but let every sceptred hand             Rule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,             Since none of all his people, whom he sway'd             With such paternal gentleness and love,             Remembers the divine Ulysses more!             That the imperious suitors thus should weave             The web of mischief and atrocious wrong,             I grudge not; since at hazard of their heads             They make Ulysses' property a prey,             Persuaded that the Hero comes no more.             But much the people move me; how ye sit             All mute, and though a multitude, yourselves,             Opposed to few, risque not a single word             To check the license of these bold intruders!                 Then thus Liocritus, Evenor's son.             Injurious Mentor! headlong orator!             How dar'st thou move the populace against             The suitors? Trust me they should find it hard,             Numerous as they are, to cope with us,             A feast the prize. Or should the King himself             Of Ithaca, returning, undertake             T' expell the jovial suitors from his house,             Much as Penelope his absence mourns,             His presence should afford her little joy;             For fighting sole with many, he should meet             A dreadful death. Thou, therefore, speak'st amiss.             As for Telemachus, let Mentor him             And Halytherses furnish forth, the friends             Long valued of his Sire, with all dispatch;             Though him I judge far likelier to remain             Long-time contented an enquirer here,             Than to perform the voyage now proposed.                 Thus saying, Liocritus dissolved in haste             The council, and the scattered concourse sought             Their sev'ral homes, while all the suitors flock'd             Thence to the palace of their absent King.             Meantime, Telemachus from all resort             Retiring, in the surf of the gray Deep             First laved his hands, then, thus to Pallas pray'd.                 O Goddess! who wast yesterday a guest             Beneath my roof, and didst enjoin me then             A voyage o'er the sable Deep in quest             Of tidings of my long regretted Sire!             Which voyage, all in Ithaca, but most             The haughty suitors, obstinate impede,             Now hear my suit and gracious interpose!                 Such pray'r he made; then Pallas, in the form,             And with the voice of Mentor, drawing nigh,             In accents wing'd, him kindly thus bespake.                 Telemachus! thou shalt hereafter prove             Nor base, nor poor in talents. If, in truth,             Thou have received from heav'n thy father's force             Instill'd into thee, and resemblest him             In promptness both of action and of speech,             Thy voyage shall not useless be, or vain.             But if Penelope produced thee not             His son, I, then, hope not for good effect             Of this design which, ardent, thou pursuest.             Few sons their fathers equal; most appear             Degenerate; but we find, though rare, sometimes             A son superior even to his Sire.             And since thyself shalt neither base be found             Nor spiritless, nor altogether void             Of talents, such as grace thy royal Sire,             I therefore hope success of thy attempt.             Heed not the suitors' projects; neither wise             Are they, nor just, nor aught suspect the doom             Which now approaches them, and in one day             Shall overwhelm them all. No long suspense             Shall hold thy purposed enterprise in doubt,             Such help from me, of old thy father's friend,             Thou shalt receive, who with a bark well-oar'd             Will serve thee, and myself attend thee forth.             But haste, join thou the suitors, and provide,             In sep'rate vessels stow'd, all needful stores,             Wine in thy jars, and flour, the strength of man,             In skins close-seam'd. I will, meantime, select             Such as shall voluntary share thy toils.             In sea-girt Ithaca new ships and old             Abound, and I will chuse, myself, for thee             The prime of all, which without more delay             We will launch out into the spacious Deep.                 Thus Pallas spake, daughter of Jove; nor long,             So greeted by the voice divine, remain'd             Telemachus, but to his palace went             Distress'd in heart. He found the suitors there             Goats slaying in the hall, and fatted swine             Roasting; when with a laugh Antinos flew             To meet him, fasten'd on his hand, and said,                 Telemachus, in eloquence sublime,             And of a spirit not to be controul'd!             Give harbour in thy breast on no account             To after-grudge or enmity, but eat,             Far rather, cheerfully as heretofore,             And freely drink, committing all thy cares             To the Achaians, who shall furnish forth             A gallant ship and chosen crew for thee,             That thou may'st hence to Pylus with all speed,             Tidings to learn of thy illustrious Sire.                 To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.             Antinos! I have no heart to feast             With guests so insolent, nor can indulge             The pleasures of a mind at ease, with you.             Is't not enough, suitors, that ye have used             My noble patrimony as your own             While I was yet a child? now, grown mature,             And competent to understand the speech             Of my instructors, feeling, too, a mind             Within me conscious of augmented pow'rs,             I will attempt your ruin, be assured,             Whether at Pylus, or continuing here.             I go, indeed, (nor shall my voyage prove             Of which I speak, bootless or vain) I go             An humble passenger, who neither bark             Nor rowers have to boast my own, denied             That honour (so ye judg'd it best) by you.                 He said, and from Antinos' hand his own             Drew sudden. Then their delicate repast             The busy suitors on all sides prepar'd,             Still taunting as they toil'd, and with sharp speech             Sarcastic wantoning, of whom a youth,             Arrogant as his fellows, thus began.                 I see it plain, Telemachus intends             Our slaughter; either he will aids procure             From sandy Pylus, or will bring them arm'd             From Sparta; such is his tremendous drift.             Even to fruitful Ephyre, perchance,             He will proceed, seeking some baneful herb             Which cast into our cup, shall drug us all.                 To whom some haughty suitor thus replied.             Who knows but that himself, wand'ring the sea             From all his friends and kindred far remote,             May perish like Ulysses? Whence to us             Should double toil ensue, on whom the charge             To parcel out his wealth would then devolve,             And to endow his mother with the house             For his abode whom she should chance to wed.                 So sported they; but he, ascending sought             His father's lofty chamber, where his heaps             He kept of brass and gold, garments in chests,             And oils of fragrant scent, a copious store.             There many a cask with season'd nectar fill'd             The grape's pure juice divine, beside the wall             Stood orderly arranged, waiting the hour             (Should e'er such hour arrive) when, after woes             Num'rous, Ulysses should regain his home.             Secure that chamber was with folding doors             Of massy planks compact, and night and day,             Within it antient Euryclea dwelt,             Guardian discrete of all the treasures there,             Whom, thither call'd, Telemachus address'd.                 Nurse! draw me forth sweet wine into my jars,             Delicious next to that which thou reserv'st             For our poor wand'rer; if escaping death             At last, divine Ulysses e'er return.             Fill twelve, and stop them close; pour also meal             Well mill'd (full twenty measures) into skins             Close-seam'd, and mention what thou dost to none.             Place them together; for at even-tide             I will convey them hence, soon as the Queen,             Retiring to her couch, shall seek repose.             For hence to Sparta will I take my course,             And sandy Pylus, tidings there to hear             (If hear I may) of my lov'd Sire's return.             He ceas'd, then wept his gentle nurse that sound             Hearing, and in wing'd accents thus replied.                 My child! ah, wherefore hath a thought so rash             Possess'd thee? whither, only and belov'd,             Seek'st thou to ramble, travelling, alas!             To distant climes? Ulysses is no more;             Dead lies the Hero in some land unknown,             And thou no sooner shalt depart, than these             Will plot to slay thee, and divide thy wealth.             No, stay with us who love thee. Need is none             That thou should'st on the barren Deep distress             Encounter, roaming without hope or end.                 Whom, prudent, thus answer'd Telemachus.             Take courage, nurse! for not without consent             Of the Immortals I have thus resolv'd.             But swear, that till eleven days be past,             Or twelve, or, till enquiry made, she learn             Herself my going, thou wilt not impart             Of this my purpose to my mother's ear,             Lest all her beauties fade by grief impair'd.                 He ended, and the antient matron swore             Solemnly by the Gods; which done, she fill'd             With wine the vessels and the skins with meal,             And he, returning, join'd the throng below.                 Then Pallas, Goddess azure-eyed, her thoughts             Elsewhere directing, all the city ranged             In semblance of Telemachus, each man             Exhorting, at the dusk of eve, to seek             The gallant ship, and from Nomon, son             Renown'd of Phronius, ask'd, herself, a bark,             Which soon as ask'd, he promis'd to supply.                 Now set the sun, and twilight dimm'd the ways,             When, drawing down his bark into the Deep,             He gave her all her furniture, oars, arms             And tackle, such as well-built galleys bear,             Then moor'd her in the bottom of the bay.             Meantime, his mariners in haste repair'd             Down to the shore, for Pallas urged them on.             And now on other purposes intent,             The Goddess sought the palace, where with dews             Of slumber drenching ev'ry suitor's eye,             She fool'd the drunkard multitude, and dash'd             The goblets from their idle hands away.             They through the city reeled, happy to leave             The dull carousal, when the slumb'rous weight             Oppressive on their eye-lids once had fall'n.             Next, Pallas azure-eyed in Mentor's form             And with the voice of Mentor, summoning             Telemachus abroad, him thus bespake.                 Telemachus! already at their oars             Sit all thy fellow-voyagers, and wait             Thy coming; linger not, but haste away.                 This said, Minerva led him thence, whom he             With nimble steps follow'd, and on the shore             Arrived, found all his mariners prepared,             Whom thus the princely voyager address'd.                 Haste, my companions! bring we down the stores             Already sorted and set forth; but nought             My mother knows, or any of her train             Of this design, one matron sole except.                 He spake, and led them; they, obedient, brought             All down, and, as Ulysses' son enjoin'd,             Within the gallant bark the charge bestow'd.                 Then, led by Pallas, went the prince on board,             Where down they sat, the Goddess in the stern,             And at her side Telemachus. The crew             Cast loose the hawsers, and embarking, fill'd             The benches. Blue-eyed Pallas from the West             Call'd forth propitious breezes; fresh they curled             The sable Deep, and, sounding, swept the waves.             He loud-exhorting them, his people bade             Hand, brisk, the tackle; they, obedient, reared             The pine-tree mast, which in its socket deep             They lodg'd, then strain'd the cordage, and with thongs             Well-twisted, drew the shining sail aloft.             A land-breeze fill'd the canvas, and the flood             Roar'd as she went against the steady bark             That ran with even course her liquid way.             The rigging, thus, of all the galley set,             Their beakers crowning high with wine, they hail'd             The ever-living Gods, but above all             Minerva, daughter azure-eyed of Jove.             Thus, all night long the galley, and till dawn             Had brighten'd into day, cleaved swift the flood.