Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book XVI

ARGUMENT     Telemachus dispatches Eumus to the city to inform Penelope of his safe return from Pylus; during his absence, Ulysses makes himself known to his son. The suitors, having watched for Telemachus in vain, arrive again at Ithaca.             It was the hour of dawn, when in the cot             Kindling fresh fire, Ulysses and his friend             Noble Eumus dress'd their morning fare,             And sent the herdsmen with the swine abroad.             Seeing Telemachus, the watchful dogs             Bark'd not, but fawn'd around him. At that sight,             And at the sound of feet which now approach'd,             Ulysses in wing'd accents thus remark'd.                 Eumus! certain, either friend of thine             Is nigh at hand, or one whom well thou know'st;             Thy dogs bark not, but fawn on his approach             Obsequious, and the sound of feet I hear.                 Scarce had he ceased, when his own son himself             Stood in the vestibule. Upsprang at once             Eumus wonder-struck, and from his hand             Let fall the cups with which he was employ'd             Mingling rich wine; to his young Lord he ran,             His forehead kiss'd, kiss'd his bright-beaming eyes             And both his hands, weeping profuse the while,             As when a father folds in his embrace             Arrived from foreign lands in the tenth year             His darling son, the offspring of his age,             His only one, for whom he long hath mourn'd,             So kiss'd the noble peasant o'er and o'er             Godlike Telemachus, as from death escaped,             And in wing'd accents plaintive thus began.                 Light of my eyes, thou com'st; it is thyself,             Sweetest Telemachus! I had no hope             To see thee more, once told that o'er the Deep             Thou hadst departed for the Pylian coast.             Enter, my precious son; that I may sooth             My soul with sight of thee from far arrived,             For seldom thou thy feeders and thy farm             Visitest, in the city custom'd much             To make abode, that thou may'st witness there             The manners of those hungry suitors proud.                 To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.             It will be so. There is great need, my friend!             But here, for thy sake, have I now arrived,             That I may look on thee, and from thy lips             Learn if my mother still reside at home,             Or have become spouse of some other Chief,             Leaving untenanted Ulysses' bed             To be by noisome spiders webb'd around.                 To whom the master swine-herd in return.             Not so, she, patient still as ever, dwells             Beneath thy roof, but all her cheerless days             Despairing wastes, and all her nights in tears.                 So saying, Eumus at his hand received             His brazen lance, and o'er the step of stone             Enter'd Telemachus, to whom his sire             Relinquish'd, soon as he appear'd, his seat,             But him Telemachus forbidding, said--                 Guest, keep thy seat; our cottage will afford             Some other, which Eumus will provide.                 He ceased, and he, returning at the word,             Reposed again; then good Eumus spread             Green twigs beneath, which, cover'd with a fleece,             Supplied Ulysses' offspring with a seat.             He, next, disposed his dishes on the board             With relicts charged of yesterday; with bread,             Alert, he heap'd the baskets; with rich wine             His ivy cup replenish'd; and a seat             Took opposite to his illustrious Lord             Ulysses. They toward the plenteous feast             Stretch'd forth their hands, (and hunger now and thirst             Both satisfied) Telemachus, his speech             Addressing to their gen'rous host, began.                 Whence is this guest, my father? How convey'd             Came he to Ithaca? What country boast             The mariners with whom he here arrived?             For, that on foot he found us not, is sure.                 To whom Eumus, thou didst thus reply.             I will with truth answer thee, O my son!             He boasts him sprung from ancestry renown'd             In spacious Crete, and hath the cities seen             Of various lands, by fate ordain'd to roam.             Ev'n now, from a Thesprotian ship escaped,             He reach'd my cottage--but he is thy own;             I yield him to thee; treat him as thou wilt;             He is thy suppliant, and depends on thee.                 Then thus, Telemachus, discrete, replied.             Thy words, Eumus, pain my very soul.             For what security can I afford             To any in my house? myself am young,             Nor yet of strength sufficient to repel             An offer'd insult, and my mother's mind             In doubtful balance hangs, if, still with me             An inmate, she shall manage my concerns,             Attentive only to her absent Lord             And her own good report, or shall espouse             The noblest of her wooers, and the best             Entitled by the splendour of his gifts.             But I will give him, since I find him lodg'd             A guest beneath thy roof, tunic and cloak,             Sword double-edged, and sandals for his feet,             With convoy to the country of his choice.             Still, if it please thee, keep him here thy guest,             And I will send him raiment, with supplies             Of all sorts, lest he burthen thee and thine.             But where the suitors come, there shall not he             With my consent, nor stand exposed to pride             And petulance like theirs, lest by some sneer             They wound him, and through him, wound also me;             For little is it that the boldest can             Against so many; numbers will prevail.                 Him answer'd then Ulysses toil-inured.             Oh amiable and good! since even I             Am free to answer thee, I will avow             My heart within me torn by what I hear             Of those injurious suitors, who the house             Infest of one noble as thou appear'st.             But say--submittest thou to their controul             Willingly, or because the people, sway'd             By some response oracular, incline             Against thee? Thou hast brothers, it may chance,             Slow to assist thee--for a brother's aid             Is of importance in whatever cause.             For oh that I had youth as I have will,             Or that renown'd Ulysses were my sire,             Or that himself might wander home again.             Whereof hope yet remains! then might I lose             My head, that moment, by an alien's hand,             If I would fail, ent'ring Ulysses' gate,             To be the bane and mischief of them all.             But if alone to multitudes opposed             I should perchance be foiled; nobler it were             With my own people, under my own roof             To perish, than to witness evermore             Their unexampled deeds, guests shoved aside,             Maidens dragg'd forcibly from room to room,             Casks emptied of their rich contents, and them             Indulging glutt'nous appetite day by day             Enormous, without measure, without end.                 To whom, Telemachus, discrete, replied.             Stranger! thy questions shall from me receive             True answer. Enmity or hatred none             Subsists the people and myself between,             Nor have I brothers to accuse, whose aid             Is of importance in whatever cause,             For Jove hath from of old with single heirs             Our house supplied; Arcesias none begat             Except Laertes, and Laertes none             Except Ulysses, and Ulysses me             Left here his only one, and unenjoy'd.             Thence comes it that our palace swarms with foes;             For all the rulers of the neighbour isles,             Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown'd             Zacynthus, others also rulers here             In craggy Ithaca, my mother seek             In marriage, and my household stores consume.             But neither she those nuptial rites abhorr'd             Refuses absolute, nor yet consents             To end them; they my patrimony waste             Meantime, and will destroy me also soon,             As I expect, but heav'n disposes all.                 Eumus! haste, my father! bear with speed             News to Penelope that I am safe,             And have arrived from Pylus; I will wait             Till thou return; and well beware that none             Hear thee beside, for I have many foes.                 To whom Eumus, thou didst thus reply.             It is enough. I understand. Thou speak'st             To one intelligent. But say beside,             Shall I not also, as I go, inform             Distress'd Laertes? who while yet he mourn'd             Ulysses only, could o'ersee the works,             And dieted among his menials oft             As hunger prompted him, but now, they say,             Since thy departure to the Pylian shore,             He neither eats as he was wont, nor drinks,             Nor oversees his hinds, but sighing sits             And weeping, wasted even to the bone.                 Him then Telemachus answer'd discrete.             Hard though it be, yet to his tears and sighs             Him leave we now. We cannot what we would.             For, were the ordering of all events             Referr'd to our own choice, our first desire             Should be to see my father's glad return.             But once thy tidings told, wander not thou             In quest of Him, but hither speed again.             Rather request my mother that she send             Her household's governess without delay             Privately to him; she shall best inform             The ancient King that I have safe arrived.                 He said, and urged him forth, who binding on             His sandals, to the city bent his way.             Nor went Eumus from his home unmark'd             By Pallas, who in semblance of a fair             Damsel, accomplish'd in domestic arts,             Approaching to the cottage' entrance, stood             Opposite, by Ulysses plain discern'd,             But to his son invisible; for the Gods             Appear not manifest alike to all.             The mastiffs saw her also, and with tone             Querulous hid themselves, yet bark'd they not.             She beckon'd him abroad. Ulysses saw             The sign, and, issuing through the outer court,             Approach'd her, whom the Goddess thus bespake.                 Laertes' progeny, for wiles renown'd!             Disclose thyself to thy own son, that, death             Concerting and destruction to your foes,             Ye may the royal city seek, nor long             Shall ye my presence there desire in vain,             For I am ardent to begin the fight.                 Minerva spake, and with her rod of gold             Touch'd him; his mantle, first, and vest she made             Pure as new-blanch'd; dilating, next, his form,             She gave dimensions ampler to his limbs;             Swarthy again his manly hue became,             Round his full face, and black his bushy chin.             The change perform'd, Minerva disappear'd,             And the illustrious Hero turn'd again             Into the cottage; wonder at that sight             Seiz'd on Telemachus; askance he look'd,             Awe-struck, not unsuspicious of a God,             And in wing'd accents eager thus began.                 Thou art no longer, whom I lately saw,             Nor are thy cloaths, nor is thy port the same.             Thou art a God, I know, and dwell'st in heav'n.             Oh, smile on us, that we may yield thee rites             Acceptable, and present thee golden gifts             Elaborate; ah spare us, Pow'r divine!                 To whom Ulysses, Hero toil-inured.             I am no God. Why deem'st thou me divine?             I am thy father, for whose sake thou lead'st             A life of woe, by violence oppress'd.                 So saying, he kiss'd his son, while from his cheeks             Tears trickled, tears till then, perforce restrained.             Telemachus, (for he believed him not             His father yet) thus, wond'ring, spake again.                 My father, said'st thou? no. Thou art not He,             But some Divinity beguiles my soul             With mock'ries to afflict me still the more;             For never mortal man could so have wrought             By his own pow'r; some interposing God             Alone could render thee both young and old,             For old thou wast of late, and foully clad,             But wear'st the semblance, now, of those in heav'n!                 To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.             Telemachus! it is not well, my son!             That thou should'st greet thy father with a face             Of wild astonishment, and stand aghast.             Ulysses, save myself, none comes, be sure.             Such as thou seest, after ten thousand woes             Which I have borne, I visit once again             My native country in the twentieth year.             This wonder Athenan Pallas wrought,             She cloath'd me even with what form she would,             For so she can. Now poor I seem and old,             Now young again, and clad in fresh attire.             The Gods who dwell in yonder heav'n, with ease             Dignify or debase a mortal man.                 So saying, he sat. Then threw Telemachus             His arms around his father's neck, and wept.             Desire intense of lamentation seized             On both; soft murmurs utt'ring, each indulged             His grief, more frequent wailing than the bird,             (Eagle, or hook-nail'd vulture) from whose nest             Some swain hath stol'n her yet unfeather'd young.             So from their eyelids they big drops distill'd             Of tend'rest grief, nor had the setting sun             Cessation of their weeping seen, had not             Telemachus his father thus address'd.                 What ship convey'd thee to thy native shore,             My father! and what country boast the crew?             For, that on foot thou not arriv'dst, is sure.                 Then thus divine Ulysses toil-inured.             My son! I will explicit all relate.             Conducted by Phacia's maritime sons             I came, a race accustom'd to convey             Strangers who visit them across the Deep.             Me, o'er the billows in a rapid bark             Borne sleeping, on the shores of Ithaca             They lay'd; rich gifts they gave me also, brass,             Gold in full bags, and beautiful attire,             Which, warn'd from heav'n, I have in caves conceal'd.             By Pallas prompted, hither I repair'd             That we might plan the slaughter of our foes,             Whose numbers tell me now, that I may know             How pow'rful, certainly, and who they are,             And consultation with my dauntless heart             May hold, if we be able to contend             Ourselves with all, or must have aid beside.                 Then, answer thus his son, discrete, return'd.             My father! thy renown hath ever rung             In thy son's ears, and by report thy force             In arms, and wisdom I have oft been told.             But terribly thou speak'st; amazement-fixt             I hear; can two a multitude oppose,             And valiant warriors all? for neither ten             Are they, nor twenty, but more num'rous far.             Learn, now, their numbers. Fifty youths and two             Came from Dulichium; they are chosen men,             And six attendants follow in their train;             From Samos twenty youths and four arrive,             Zacynthus also of Achaia's sons             Sends twenty more, and our own island adds,             Herself, her twelve chief rulers; Medon, too,             Is there the herald, and the bard divine,             With other two, intendants of the board.             Should we within the palace, we alone,             Assail them all, I fear lest thy revenge             Unpleasant to thyself and deadly prove,             Frustrating thy return. But recollect--             Think, if thou canst, on whose confed'rate arm             Strenuous on our behalf we may rely.                 To him replied his patient father bold.             I will inform thee. Mark. Weigh well my words.             Will Pallas and the everlasting Sire             Alone suffice? or need we other aids?                 Then answer thus Telemachus return'd.             Good friends indeed are they whom thou hast named,             Though throned above the clouds; for their controul             Is universal both in earth and heav'n.                 To whom Ulysses, toil-worn Chief renown'd.             Not long will they from battle stand aloof,             When once, within my palace, in the strength             Of Mars, to sharp decision we shall urge             The suitors. But thyself at early dawn             Our mansion seek, that thou may'st mingle there             With that imperious throng; me in due time             Eumus to the city shall conduct,             In form a miserable beggar old.             But should they with dishonourable scorn             Insult me, thou unmov'd my wrongs endure,             And should they even drag me by the feet             Abroad, or smite me with the spear, thy wrath             Refraining, gently counsel them to cease             From such extravagance; but well I know             That cease they will not, for their hour is come.             And mark me well; treasure what now I say             Deep in thy soul. When Pallas shall, herself,             Suggest the measure, then, shaking my brows,             I will admonish thee; thou, at the sign,             Remove what arms soever in the hall             Remain, and in the upper palace safe             Dispose them; should the suitors, missing them,             Perchance interrogate thee, then reply             Gently--I have removed them from the smoke;             For they appear no more the arms which erst             Ulysses, going hence to Ilium, left,             But smirch'd and sullied by the breath of fire.             This weightier reason (thou shalt also say)             Jove taught me; lest, intoxicate with wine,             Ye should assault each other in your brawls,             Shaming both feast and courtship; for the view             Itself of arms incites to their abuse.             Yet leave two faulchions for ourselves alone,             Two spears, two bucklers, which with sudden force             Impetuous we will seize, and Jove all-wise             Their valour shall, and Pallas, steal away.             This word store also in remembrance deep--             If mine in truth thou art, and of my blood,             Then, of Ulysses to his home returned             Let none hear news from thee, no, not my sire             Laertes, nor Eumus, nor of all             The menials any, or ev'n Penelope,             That thou and I, alone, may search the drift             Of our domestic women, and may prove             Our serving-men, who honours and reveres             And who contemns us both, but chiefly thee             So gracious and so worthy to be loved.                 Him then thus answer'd his illustrious son.             Trust me, my father! thou shalt soon be taught             That I am not of drowsy mind obtuse.             But this I think not likely to avail             Or thee or me; ponder it yet again;             For tedious were the task, farm after farm             To visit of those servants, proving each,             And the proud suitors merciless devour             Meantime thy substance, nor abstain from aught.             Learn, if thou wilt, (and I that course myself             Advise) who slights thee of the female train,             And who is guiltless; but I would not try             From house to house the men, far better proved             Hereafter, if in truth by signs from heav'n             Inform'd, thou hast been taught the will of Jove.                 Thus they conferr'd. The gallant bark, meantime,             Reach'd Ithaca, which from the Pylian shore             Had brought Telemachus with all his band.             Within the many-fathom'd port arrived             His lusty followers haled her far aground,             Then carried thence their arms, but to the house             Of Clytius the illustrious gifts convey'd.             Next to the royal mansion they dispatch'd             An herald charg'd with tidings to the Queen,             That her Telemachus had reach'd the cot             Of good Eumus, and the bark had sent             Home to the city; lest the matchless dame             Should still deplore the absence of her son.             They, then, the herald and the swine-herd, each             Bearing like message to his mistress, met,             And at the palace of the godlike Chief             Arriving, compass'd by the female throng             Inquisitive, the herald thus began.                 Thy son, O Queen! is safe; ev'n now return'd.             Then, drawing nigh to her, Eumus told             His message also from her son received,             And, his commission punctually discharged,             Leaving the palace, sought his home again.                 Grief seized and anguish, at those tidings, all             The suitors; issuing forth, on the outside             Of the high wall they sat, before the gate,             When Polybus' son, Eurymachus, began.                 My friends! his arduous task, this voyage, deem'd             By us impossible, in our despight             Telemachus hath atchieved. Haste! launch we forth             A sable bark, our best, which let us man             With mariners expert, who, rowing forth             Swiftly, shall summon our companions home.                 Scarce had he said, when turning where he sat,             Amphinomus beheld a bark arrived             Just then in port; he saw them furling sail,             And seated with their oars in hand; he laugh'd             Through pleasure at that sight, and thus he spake.                 Our message may be spared. Lo! they arrive.             Either some God inform'd them, or they saw,             Themselves, the vessel of Telemachus             Too swiftly passing to be reach'd by theirs.                 He spake; they, rising, hasted to the shore.             Alert they drew the sable bark aground,             And by his servant each his arms dispatch'd             To his own home. Then, all, to council those             Assembling, neither elder of the land             Nor youth allow'd to join them, and the rest             Eupithes' son, Antinos, thus bespake.                 Ah! how the Gods have rescued him! all day             Perch'd on the airy mountain-top, our spies             Successive watch'd; and, when the sun declined,             We never slept on shore, but all night long             Till sacred dawn arose, plow'd the abyss,             Hoping Telemachus, that we might seize             And slay him, whom some Deity hath led,             In our despight, safe to his home again.             But frame we yet again means to destroy             Telemachus; ah--let not Him escape!             For end of this our task, while he survives,             None shall be found, such prudence he displays             And wisdom, neither are the people now             Unanimous our friends as heretofore.             Come, then--prevent him, ere he call the Greeks             To council; for he will not long delay,             But will be angry, doubtless, and will tell             Amid them all, how we in vain devised             His death, a deed which they will scarce applaud,             But will, perhaps, punish and drive us forth             From our own country to a distant land.--             Prevent him, therefore, quickly; in the field             Slay him, or on the road; so shall his wealth             And his possessions on ourselves devolve             Which we will share equally, but his house             Shall be the Queen's, and his whom she shall wed.             Yet, if not so inclined, ye rather chuse             That he should live and occupy entire             His patrimony, then, no longer, here             Assembled, let us revel at his cost,             But let us all with spousal gifts produced             From our respective treasures, woo the Queen,             Leaving her in full freedom to espouse             Who proffers most, and whom the fates ordain.                 He ceased; the assembly silent sat and mute.             Then rose Amphinomus amid them all,             Offspring renown'd of Nisus, son, himself,             Of King Aretias. He had thither led             The suitor train who from the pleasant isle             Corn-clad of green Dulichium had arrived,             And by his speech pleased far beyond them all             Penelope, for he was just and wise,             And thus, well-counselling the rest, began.                 Not I, my friends! far be the thought from me             To slay Telemachus! it were a deed             Momentous, terrible, to slay a prince.             First, therefore, let us counsel ask of heav'n,             And if Jove's oracle that course approve,             I will encourage you, and will myself             Be active in his death; but if the Gods             Forbid it, then, by my advice, forbear.                 So spake Amphinomus, whom all approved.             Arising then, into Ulysses' house             They went, where each his splendid seat resumed.                 A novel purpose occupied, meantime,             Penelope; she purposed to appear             Before her suitors, whose design to slay             Telemachus she had from Medon learn'd,             The herald, for his ear had caught the sound.             Toward the hall with her attendant train             She moved, and when, most graceful of her sex,             Where sat the suitors she arrived, between             The columns standing of the stately dome,             And covering with her white veil's lucid folds             Her features, to Antinos thus she spake.                 Antinos, proud, contentious, evermore             To mischief prone! the people deem thee wise             Past thy compeers, and in all grace of speech             Pre-eminent, but such wast never thou.             Inhuman! why is it thy dark design             To slay Telemachus? and why with scorn             Rejectest thou the suppliant's pray'r,[72] which Jove             Himself hath witness'd? Plots please not the Gods.             Know'st not that thy own father refuge found             Here, when he fled before the people's wrath             Whom he had irritated by a wrong             Which, with a band of Taphian robbers joined,             He offer'd to the Thesprots, our allies?             They would have torn his heart, and would have laid             All his delights and his possessions waste,             But my Ulysses slaked the furious heat             Of their revenge, whom thou requitest now             Wasting his goods, soliciting his wife,             Slaying his son, and filling me with woe.             But cease, I charge thee, and bid cease the rest.                 To whom the son of Polybus replied,             Eurymachus.--Icarius' daughter wise!             Take courage, fair Penelope, and chace             These fears unreasonable from thy mind!             The man lives not, nor shall, who while I live,             And faculty of sight retain, shall harm             Telemachus, thy son. For thus I say,             And thus will I perform; his blood shall stream             A sable current from my lance's point             That moment; for the city-waster Chief             Ulysses, oft, me placing on his knees,             Hath fill'd my infant grasp with sav'ry food,             And giv'n me ruddy wine. I, therefore, hold             Telemachus of all men most my friend,             Nor hath he death to fear from hand of ours.             Yet, if the Gods shall doom him, die he must.                 So he encouraged her, who yet, himself,             Plotted his death. She, re-ascending, sought             Her stately chamber, and, arriving there,             Deplored with tears her long-regretted Lord             Till Athenan Pallas azure-eyed             Dews of soft slumber o'er her lids diffused.                 And now, at even-tide, Eumus reach'd             Ulysses and his son. A yearling swine             Just slain they skilfully for food prepared,             When Pallas, drawing nigh, smote with her wand             Ulysses, at the stroke rend'ring him old,             And his apparel sordid as before,             Lest, knowing him, the swain at once should seek             Penelope, and let the secret forth.                 Then foremost him Telemachus address'd.             Noble Eumus! thou art come; what news             Bring'st from the city? Have the warrior band             Of suitors, hopeless of their ambush, reach'd             The port again, or wait they still for me?                 To whom Eumus, thou didst thus reply.             No time for such enquiry, nor to range,             Curious, the streets had I, but anxious wish'd             To make my message known, and to return.             But, as it chanced, a nimble herald sent             From thy companions, met me on the way,             Who reach'd thy mother first. Yet this I know,             For this I saw. Passing above the town             Where they have piled a way-side hill of stones             To Mercury, I beheld a gallant bark             Ent'ring the port; a bark she was of ours,             The crew were num'rous, and I mark'd her deep-             Laden with shields and spears of double edge.             Theirs I conjectured her, and could no more.                 He spake, and by Eumus unperceived,             Telemachus his father eyed and smiled.             Their task accomplish'd, and the table spread,             They ate, nor any his due portion miss'd,             And hunger, now, and thirst both sated, all             To rest repair'd, and took the gift of sleep.