Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book XX

ARGUMENT     Ulysses, doubting whether he shall destroy or not the women servants who commit lewdness with the suitors, resolves at length to spare them for the present. He asks an omen from Jupiter, and that he would grant him also to hear some propitious words from the lips of one in the family. His petitions are both answered. Preparation is made for the feast. Whilst the suitors sit at table, Pallas smites them with a horrid frenzy. Theoclymenus, observing the strange effects of it, prophesies their destruction, and they deride his prophecy.             But in the vestibule the Hero lay             On a bull's-hide undress'd, o'er which he spread             The fleece of many a sheep slain by the Greeks,             And, cover'd by the household's governess             With a wide cloak, composed himself to rest.             Yet slept he not, but meditating lay             Woe to his enemies. Meantime, the train             Of women, wonted to the suitors' arms,             Issuing all mirth and laughter, in his soul             A tempest raised of doubts, whether at once             To slay, or to permit them yet to give             Their lusty paramours one last embrace.             As growls the mastiff standing on the start             For battle, if a stranger's foot approach             Her cubs new-whelp'd--so growl'd Ulysses' heart,             While wonder fill'd him at their impious deeds.             But, smiting on his breast, thus he reproved             The mutinous inhabitant within.                 Heart! bear it. Worse than this thou didst endure             When, uncontroulable by force of man,             The Cyclops thy illustrious friends devour'd.             Thy patience then fail'd not, till prudence found             Deliv'rance for thee on the brink of fate.                 So disciplined the Hero his own heart,             Which, tractable, endured the rigorous curb,             And patient; yet he turn'd from side to side.             As when some hungry swain turns oft a maw             Unctuous and sav'ry on the burning coals,             Quick expediting his desired repast,             So he from side to side roll'd, pond'ring deep             How likeliest with success he might assail             Those shameless suitors; one to many opposed.             Then, sudden from the skies descending, came             Minerva in a female form; her stand             Above his head she took, and thus she spake.                 Why sleep'st thou not, unhappiest of mankind?             Thou art at home; here dwells thy wife, and here             Thy son; a son, whom all might wish their own.                 Then her Ulysses answer'd, ever-wise.             O Goddess! true is all that thou hast said,             But, not without anxiety, I muse             How, single as I am, I shall assail             Those shameless suitors who frequent my courts             Daily; and always their whole multitude.             This weightier theme I meditate beside;             Should I, with Jove's concurrence and with thine             Prevail to slay them, how shall I escape,             Myself, at last?[88] oh Goddess, weigh it well.                 Him answer'd then Pallas crulean-eyed.             Oh faithless man! a man will in his friend             Confide, though mortal, and in valour less             And wisdom than himself; but I who keep             Thee in all difficulties, am divine.             I tell thee plainly. Were we hemm'd around             By fifty troops of shouting warriors bent             To slay thee, thou should'st yet securely drive             The flocks away and cattle of them all.             But yield to sleep's soft influence; for to lie             All night thus watchful, is, itself, distress.             Fear not. Deliv'rance waits, not far remote.                 So saying, she o'er Ulysses' eyes diffused             Soft slumbers, and when sleep that sooths the mind             And nerves the limbs afresh had seized him once,             To the Olympian summit swift return'd.             But his chaste spouse awoke; she weeping sat             On her soft couch, and, noblest of her sex,             Satiate at length with tears, her pray'r address'd             First to Diana of the Pow'rs above.                 Diana, awful progeny of Jove!             I would that with a shaft this moment sped             Into my bosom, thou would'st here conclude             My mournful life! or, oh that, as it flies,             Snatching me through the pathless air, a storm             Would whelm me deep in Ocean's restless tide!             So, when the Gods their parents had destroy'd,             Storms suddenly the beauteous daughters snatch'd[89]             Of Pandarus away; them left forlorn             Venus with curds, with honey and with wine             Fed duly; Juno gave them to surpass             All women in the charms of face and mind,             With graceful stature eminent the chaste             Diana bless'd them, and in works of art             Illustrious, Pallas taught them to excel.             But when the foam-sprung Goddess to the skies             A suitress went on their behalf, to obtain             Blest nuptials for them from the Thund'rer Jove,             (For Jove the happiness, himself, appoints,             And the unhappiness of all below)             Meantime, the Harpies ravishing away             Those virgins, gave them to the Furies Three,             That they might serve them. O that me the Gods             Inhabiting Olympus so would hide             From human eyes for ever, or bright-hair'd             Diana pierce me with a shaft, that while             Ulysses yet engages all my thoughts,             My days concluded, I might 'scape the pain             Of gratifying some inferior Chief!             This is supportable, when (all the day             To sorrow giv'n) the mourner sleeps at night;             For sleep, when it hath once the eyelids veil'd,             All reminiscence blots of all alike,             Both good and ill; but me the Gods afflict             Not seldom ev'n in dreams, and at my side,             This night again, one lay resembling him;             Such as my own Ulysses when he join'd             Achaia's warriors; my exulting heart             No airy dream believed it, but a truth.                 While thus she spake, in orient gold enthroned             Came forth the morn; Ulysses, as she wept,             Heard plain her lamentation; him that sound             Alarm'd; he thought her present, and himself             Known to her. Gath'ring hastily the cloak             His cov'ring, and the fleeces, them he placed             Together on a throne within the hall,             But bore the bull's-hide forth into the air.             Then, lifting high his hands to Jove, he pray'd.                 Eternal Sire! if over moist and dry             Ye have with good-will sped me to my home             After much suff'ring, grant me from the lips             Of some domestic now awake, to hear             Words of propitious omen, and thyself             Vouchsafe me still some other sign abroad.                 Such pray'r he made, and Jove omniscient heard.             Sudden he thunder'd from the radiant heights             Olympian; glad, Ulysses heard the sound.             A woman, next, a labourer at the mill             Hard by, where all the palace-mills were wrought,             Gave him the omen of propitious sound.             Twelve maidens, day by day, toil'd at the mills,             Meal grinding, some, of barley, some, of wheat,             Marrow of man.[90] The rest (their portion ground)             All slept; she only from her task as yet             Ceas'd not, for she was feeblest of them all;             She rested on her mill, and thus pronounced             The happy omen by her Lord desired.                 Jove, Father, Governor of heav'n and earth!             Loud thou hast thunder'd from the starry skies             By no cloud veil'd; a sign propitious, giv'n             To whom I know not; but oh grant the pray'r             Of a poor bond-woman! appoint their feast             This day, the last that in Ulysses' house             The suitors shall enjoy, for whom I drudge,             With aching heart and trembling knees their meal             Grinding continual. Feast they here no more!                 She ended, and the list'ning Chief received             With equal joy both signs; for well he hoped             That he should punish soon those guilty men.             And now the other maidens in the hall             Assembling, kindled on the hearth again             Th' unwearied blaze; then, godlike from his couch             Arose Telemachus, and, fresh-attired,             Athwart his shoulders his bright faulchion slung,             Bound his fair sandals to his feet, and took             His sturdy spear pointed with glitt'ring brass;             Advancing to the portal, there he stood,             And Euryclea thus, his nurse, bespake.                 Nurse! have ye with respectful notice serv'd             Our guest? or hath he found a sordid couch             E'en where he might? for, prudent though she be,             My mother, inattentive oft, the worse             Treats kindly, and the better sends away.                 Whom Euryclea answer'd, thus, discrete.             Blame not, my son! who merits not thy blame.             The guest sat drinking till he would no more,             And ate, till, question'd, he replied--Enough.             But when the hour of sleep call'd him to rest,             She gave commandment to her female train             To spread his couch. Yet he, like one forlorn,             And, through despair, indiff'rent to himself,             Both bed and rugs refused, and in the porch             On skins of sheep and on an undress'd hide             Reposed, where we threw cov'ring over him.                 She ceas'd, and, grasping his bright-headed spear,             Forth went the Prince attended, as he went,             By his fleet hounds; to the assembled Greeks             In council with majestic gait he moved,             And Euryclea, daughter wise of Ops,             Pisenor's son, call'd to the serving-maids.                 Haste ye! be diligent! sweep the palace-floor             And sprinkle it; then give the sumptuous seats             Their purple coverings. Let others cleanse             With sponges all the tables, wash and rince             The beakers well, and goblets rich-emboss'd;             Run others to the fountain, and bring thence             Water with speed. The suitors will not long             Be absent, but will early come to-day,             For this day is a public festival.[91]                 So she; whom all, obedient, heard; forth went             Together, twenty to the crystal fount,             While in their sev'ral provinces the rest             Bestirr'd them brisk at home. Then enter'd all             The suitors, and began cleaving the wood.             Meantime, the women from the fountain came,             Whom soon the swine-herd follow'd, driving three             His fattest brawns; them in the spacious court             He feeding left, and to Ulysses' side             Approaching, courteously bespake the Chief.                 Guest! look the Greecians on thee with respect             At length, or still disdainful as before?                 Then, answer thus Ulysses wise return'd.             Yes--and I would that vengeance from the Gods             Might pay their insolence, who in a house             Not theirs, dominion exercise, and plan             Unseemly projects, shameless as they are!                 Thus they conferr'd; and now Melanthius came             The goat-herd, driving, with the aid of two             His fellow-swains, the fattest of his goats             To feast the suitors. In the sounding porch             The goats he tied, then, drawing near, in terms             Reproachful thus assail'd Ulysses' ear.                 How, stranger? persever'st thou, begging, still             To vex the suitors? wilt thou not depart?             Scarce shall we settle this dispute, I judge,             Till we have tasted each the other's fist;             Thou art unreasonable thus to beg             Here always--have the Greeks no feasts beside?                 He spake, to whom Ulysses answer none             Return'd, but shook his brows, and, silent, framed             Terrible purposes. Then, third, approach'd             Chief o'er the herds, Philoetius; fatted goats             He for the suitors brought, with which he drove             An heifer; (ferry-men had pass'd them o'er,             Carriers of all who on their coast arrive)             He tied them in the sounding porch, then stood             Beside the swine-herd, to whom thus he said.                 Who is this guest, Eumus, here arrived             So lately? from what nation hath he come?             What parentage and country boasts the man?             I pity him, whose figure seems to speak             Royalty in him. Heav'n will surely plunge             The race of common wand'rers deep in woe,             If thus it destine even Kings to mourn.                 He ceas'd; and, with his right hand, drawing nigh,             Welcom'd Ulysses, whom he thus bespake.                 Hail venerable guest! and be thy lot             Prosp'rous at least hereafter, who art held             At present in the bonds of num'rous ills.             Thou, Jupiter, of all the Gods, art most             Severe, and spar'st not to inflict distress             Even on creatures from thyself derived.[92]             I had no sooner mark'd thee, than my eyes             Swam, and the sweat gush'd from me at the thought             Of dear Ulysses; for if yet he live             And see the sun, such tatters, I suppose,             He wears, a wand'rer among human-kind.             But if already with the dead he dwell             In Pluto's drear abode, oh then, alas             For kind Ulysses! who consign'd to me,             While yet a boy, his Cephalenian herds,             And they have now encreas'd to such a store             Innumerable of broad-fronted beeves,             As only care like mine could have produced.             These, by command of others, I transport             For their regale, who neither heed his son,             Nor tremble at the anger of the Gods,             But long have wish'd ardently to divide             And share the substance of our absent Lord.             Me, therefore, this thought occupies, and haunts             My mind not seldom; while the heir survives             It were no small offence to drive his herds             Afar, and migrate to a foreign land;             Yet here to dwell, suff'ring oppressive wrongs             While I attend another's beeves, appears             Still less supportable; and I had fled,             And I had served some other mighty Chief             Long since, (for patience fails me to endure             My present lot) but that I cherish still             Some hope of my ill-fated Lord's return,             To rid his palace of those lawless guests.                 To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.             Herdsman! since neither void of sense thou seem'st,             Nor yet dishonest, but myself am sure             That thou art owner of a mind discrete,             Hear therefore, for I swear! bold I attest             Jove and this hospitable board, and these             The Lares[93] of the noble Chief, whose hearth             Protects me now, that, ere thy going hence,             Ulysses surely shall have reach'd his home,             And thou shalt see him, if thou wilt, thyself,             Slaying the suitors who now lord it here.                 Him answer'd then the keeper of his beeves.             Oh stranger! would but the Saturnian King             Perform that word, thou should'st be taught (thyself             Eye-witness of it) what an arm is mine.                 Eumus also ev'ry power of heav'n             Entreated, that Ulysses might possess             His home again. Thus mutual they conferr'd.                 Meantime, in conf'rence close the suitors plann'd             Death for Telemachus; but while they sat             Consulting, on their left the bird of Jove             An eagle soar'd, grasping a tim'rous dove.             Then, thus, Amphinomus the rest bespake.                 Oh friends! our consultation how to slay             Telemachus, will never smoothly run             To its effect; but let us to the feast.                 So spake Amphinomus, whose counsel pleased.             Then, all into the royal house repaired,             And on the thrones and couches throwing off             Their mantles, slew the fatted goats, the brawns,             The sheep full-sized, and heifer of the herd.             The roasted entrails first they shared, then fill'd             The beakers, and the swine-herd placed the cups,             Philoetius, chief intendant of the beeves,             Served all with baskets elegant of bread,             While all their cups Melanthius charged with wine,             And they assail'd at once the ready feast.             Meantime Telemachus, with forecast shrewd,             Fast by the marble threshold, but within             The spacious hall his father placed, to whom             A sordid seat he gave and scanty board.             A portion of the entrails, next, he set             Before him, fill'd a golden goblet high,             And thus, in presence of them all, began.                 There seated now, drink as the suitors drink.             I will, myself, their biting taunts forbid,             And violence. This edifice is mine,             Not public property; my father first             Possess'd it, and my right from him descends.             Suitors! controul your tongues, nor with your hands             Offend, lest contest fierce and war ensue.                 He ceas'd: they gnawing, sat, their lips, aghast             With wonder that Telemachus in his speech             Such boldness used. Then spake Eupithes' son,             Antinos, and the assembly thus address'd.                 Let pass, ye Greeks! the language of the Prince,             Harsh as it is, and big with threats to us.             Had Jove permitted, his orations here,             Although thus eloquent, ere now had ceased.                 So spake Antinos, whom Ulysses' son             Heard unconcern'd. And now the heralds came             In solemn pomp, conducting through the streets             A sacred hecatomb, when in the grove             Umbrageous of Apollo, King shaft-arm'd,             The assembled Greecians met. The sav'ry roast             Finish'd, and from the spits withdrawn, each shared             His portion of the noble feast, and such             As they enjoy'd themselves the attendants placed             Before Ulysses, for the Hero's son             Himself, Telemachus, had so enjoined.             But Pallas (that they might exasp'rate more             Ulysses) suffer'd not the suitor Chiefs             To banquet, guiltless of heart-piercing scoffs             Malign. There was a certain suitor named             Ctesippus, born in Samos; base of mind             Was he and profligate, but, in the wealth             Confiding of his father, woo'd the wife             Of long-exiled Ulysses. From his seat             The haughty suitors thus that man address'd.                 Ye noble suitors, I would speak; attend!             The guest is served; he hath already shared             Equal with us; nor less the laws demand             Of hospitality; for neither just             It were nor decent, that a guest, received             Here by Telemachus, should be denied             His portion of the feast. Come then--myself             Will give to him, that he may also give             To her who laved him in the bath, or else             To whatsoever menial here he will.                 So saying, he from a basket near at hand             Heav'd an ox-foot, and with a vig'rous arm             Hurl'd it. Ulysses gently bow'd his head,             Shunning the blow, but gratified his just             Resentment with a broad sardonic smile[94]             Of dread significance. He smote the wall.             Then thus Telemachus rebuked the deed.                 Ctesippus, thou art fortunate; the bone             Struck not the stranger, for he shunn'd the blow;             Else, I had surely thrust my glitt'ring lance             Right through thee; then, no hymenal rites             Of thine should have employ'd thy father here,             But thy funereal. No man therefore treat             Me with indignity within these walls,             For though of late a child, I can discern             Now, and distinguish between good and ill.             Suffice it that we patiently endure             To be spectators daily of our sheep             Slaughter'd, our bread consumed, our stores of wine             Wasted; for what can one to all opposed?             Come then--persist no longer in offence             And hostile hate of me; or if ye wish             To slay me, pause not. It were better far             To die, and I had rather much be slain,             Than thus to witness your atrocious deeds             Day after day; to see our guests abused,             With blows insulted, and the women dragg'd             With a licentious violence obscene             From side to side of all this fair abode.                 He said, and all sat silent, till at length             Thus Agelas spake, Diastor's son.                 My friends! let none with contradiction thwart             And rude reply, words rational and just;             Assault no more the stranger, nor of all             The servants of renown'd Ulysses here             Harm any. My advice, both to the Queen             And to Telemachus, shall gentle be,             May it but please them. While the hope survived             Within your bosoms of the safe return             Of wise Ulysses to his native isle,             So long good reason was that she should use             Delay, and hold our wooing in suspence;             For had Ulysses come, that course had proved             Wisest and best; but that he comes no more             Appears, now, manifest. Thou, therefore, Prince!             Seeking thy mother, counsel her to wed             The noblest, and who offers richest dow'r,             That thou, for thy peculiar, may'st enjoy             Thy own inheritance in peace and ease,             And she, departing, find another home.                 To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.             I swear by Jove, and by my father's woes,             Who either hath deceased far from his home,             Or lives a wand'rer, that I interpose             No hindrance to her nuptials. Let her wed             Who offers most, and even whom she will.             But to dismiss her rudely were a deed             Unfilial--That I dare not--God forbid!                 So spake Telemachus. Then Pallas struck             The suitors with delirium; wide they stretch'd             Their jaws with unspontaneous laughter loud;             Their meat dripp'd blood; tears fill'd their eyes, and dire             Presages of approaching woe, their hearts.             Then thus the prophet Theoclymenus.[95]                 Ah miserable men! what curse is this             That takes you now? night wraps itself around             Your faces, bodies, limbs; the palace shakes             With peals of groans--and oh, what floods ye weep!             I see the walls and arches dappled thick             With gore; the vestibule is throng'd, the court             On all sides throng'd with apparitions grim             Of slaughter'd men sinking into the gloom             Of Erebus; the sun is blotted out             From heav'n, and midnight whelms you premature.                 He said, they, hearing, laugh'd; and thus the son             Of Polybus, Eurymachus replied.                 This wand'rer from a distant shore hath left             His wits behind. Hoa there! conduct him hence             Into the forum; since he dreams it night             Already, teach him there that it is day.                 Then answer'd godlike Theoclymenus.             I have no need, Eurymachus, of guides             To lead me hence, for I have eyes and ears,             The use of both my feet, and of a mind             In no respect irrational or wild.             These shall conduct me forth, for well I know             That evil threatens you, such, too, as none             Shall 'scape of all the suitors, whose delight             Is to insult the unoffending guest             Received beneath this hospitable roof.                 He said, and, issuing from the palace, sought             Pirus' house, who gladly welcom'd him.             Then all the suitors on each other cast             A look significant, and, to provoke             Telemachus the more, fleer'd at his guests.             Of whom a youth thus, insolent began.                 No living wight, Telemachus, had e'er             Guests such as thine. Witness, we know not who,             This hungry vagabond, whose means of life             Are none, and who hath neither skill nor force             To earn them, a mere burthen on the ground.             Witness the other also, who upstarts             A prophet suddenly. Take my advice;             I counsel wisely; send them both on board             Some gallant bark to Sicily for sale;             Thus shall they somewhat profit thee at last.                 So spake the suitors, whom Telemachus             Heard unconcern'd, and, silent, look'd and look'd             Toward his father, watching still the time             When he should punish that licentious throng.             Meantime, Icarius' daughter, who had placed             Her splendid seat opposite, heard distinct             Their taunting speeches. They, with noisy mirth,             Feasted deliciously, for they had slain             Many a fat victim; but a sadder feast             Than, soon, the Goddess and the warrior Chief             Should furnish for them, none shall ever share.             Of which their crimes had furnish'd first the cause.