Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book XXI

ARGUMENT     Penelope proposes to the suitors a contest with the bow, herself the prize. They prove unable to bend the bow; when Ulysses having with some difficulty possessed himself of it, manages it with the utmost ease, and dispatches his arrow through twelve rings erected for the trial.             Minerva, now, Goddess crulean-eyed,             Prompted Icarius' daughter, the discrete             Penelope, with bow and rings to prove             Her suitors in Ulysses' courts, a game             Terrible in conclusion to them all.             First, taking in her hand the brazen key             Well-forged, and fitted with an iv'ry grasp,             Attended by the women of her train             She sought her inmost chamber, the recess             In which she kept the treasures of her Lord,             His brass, his gold, and steel elaborate.             Here lay his stubborn bow, and quiver fill'd             With num'rous shafts, a fatal store. That bow             He had received and quiver from the hand             Of godlike Iphitus Eurytides,             Whom, in Messenia,[96] in the house he met             Of brave Orsilochus. Ulysses came             Demanding payment of arrearage due             From all that land; for a Messenian fleet             Had borne from Ithaca three hundred sheep,             With all their shepherds; for which cause, ere yet             Adult, he voyaged to that distant shore,             Deputed by his sire, and by the Chiefs             Of Ithaca, to make the just demand.             But Iphitus had thither come to seek             Twelve mares and twelve mule colts which he had lost,             A search that cost him soon a bloody death.             For, coming to the house of Hercules             The valiant task-performing son of Jove,             He perish'd there, slain by his cruel host             Who, heedless of heav'n's wrath, and of the rights             Of his own board, first fed, then slaughter'd him;             For in his house the mares and colts were hidden.             He, therefore, occupied in that concern,             Meeting Ulysses there, gave him the bow             Which, erst, huge Eurytus had borne, and which             Himself had from his dying sire received.             Ulysses, in return, on him bestowed             A spear and sword, pledges of future love             And hospitality; but never more             They met each other at the friendly board,             For, ere that hour arrived, the son of Jove             Slew his own guest, the godlike Iphitus.             Thus came the bow into Ulysses' hands,             Which, never in his gallant barks he bore             To battle with him, (though he used it oft             In times of peace) but left it safely stored             At home, a dear memorial of his friend.                 Soon as, divinest of her sex, arrived             At that same chamber, with her foot she press'd             The oaken threshold bright, on which the hand             Of no mean architect had stretch'd the line,             Who had erected also on each side             The posts on which the splendid portals hung,             She loos'd the ring and brace, then introduced             The key, and aiming at them from without,[97]             Struck back the bolts. The portals, at that stroke,             Sent forth a tone deep as the pastur'd bull's,             And flew wide open. She, ascending, next,             The elevated floor on which the chests             That held her own fragrant apparel stood,             With lifted hand aloft took down the bow             In its embroider'd bow-case safe enclosed.             Then, sitting there, she lay'd it on her knees,             Weeping aloud, and drew it from the case.             Thus weeping over it long time she sat,             Till satiate, at the last, with grief and tears,             Descending by the palace steps she sought             Again the haughty suitors, with the bow             Elastic, and the quiver in her hand             Replete with pointed shafts, a deadly store.             Her maidens, as she went, bore after her             A coffer fill'd with prizes by her Lord,             Much brass and steel; and when at length she came,             Loveliest of women, where the suitors sat,             Between the pillars of the stately dome             Pausing, before her beauteous face she held             Her lucid veil, and by two matrons chaste             Supported, the assembly thus address'd.                 Ye noble suitors hear, who rudely haunt             This palace of a Chief long absent hence,             Whose substance ye have now long time consumed,             Nor palliative have yet contrived, or could,             Save your ambition to make me a bride--             Attend this game to which I call you forth.             Now suitors! prove yourselves with this huge bow             Of wide-renown'd Ulysses; he who draws             Easiest the bow, and who his arrow sends             Through twice six rings, he takes me to his home,             And I must leave this mansion of my youth             Plenteous, magnificent, which, doubtless, oft             I shall remember even in my dreams.                 So saying, she bade Eumus lay the bow             Before them, and the twice six rings of steel.             He wept, received them, and obey'd; nor wept             The herdsman less, seeing the bow which erst             His Lord had occupied; when at their tears             Indignant, thus, Antinos began.                 Ye rural drones, whose purblind eyes see not             Beyond the present hour, egregious fools!             Why weeping trouble ye the Queen, too much             Before afflicted for her husband lost?             Either partake the banquet silently,             Or else go weep abroad, leaving the bow,             That stubborn test, to us; for none, I judge,             None here shall bend this polish'd bow with ease,             Since in this whole assembly I discern             None like Ulysses, whom myself have seen             And recollect, though I was then a boy.                 He said, but in his heart, meantime, the hope             Cherish'd, that he should bend, himself, the bow,             And pass the rings; yet was he destin'd first             Of all that company to taste the steel             Of brave Ulysses' shaft, whom in that house             He had so oft dishonour'd, and had urged             So oft all others to the like offence.             Amidst them, then, the sacred might arose             Of young Telemachus, who thus began.                 Saturnian Jove questionless hath deprived             Me of all reason. My own mother, fam'd             For wisdom as she is, makes known to all             Her purpose to abandon this abode             And follow a new mate, while, heedless, I             Trifle and laugh as I were still a child.             But come, ye suitors! since the prize is such,             A woman like to whom none can be found             This day in all Achaia; on the shores             Of sacred Pylus; in the cities proud             Of Argos or Mycen; or even here             In Ithaca; or yet within the walls             Of black Epirus; and since this yourselves             Know also, wherefore should I speak her praise?             Come then, delay not, waste not time in vain             Excuses, turn not from the proof, but bend             The bow, that thus the issue may be known.             I also will, myself, that task essay;             And should I bend the bow, and pass the rings,             Then shall not my illustrious mother leave             Her son forlorn, forsaking this abode             To follow a new spouse, while I remain             Disconsolate, although of age to bear,             Successful as my sire, the prize away.                 So saying, he started from his seat, cast off             His purple cloak, and lay'd his sword aside,             Then fix'd, himself, the rings, furrowing the earth             By line, and op'ning one long trench for all,             And stamping close the glebe. Amazement seized             All present, seeing with how prompt a skill             He executed, though untaught, his task.             Then, hasting to the portal, there he stood.             Thrice, struggling, he essay'd to bend the bow,             And thrice desisted, hoping still to draw             The bow-string home, and shoot through all the rings.[98]             And now the fourth time striving with full force             He had prevail'd to string it, but his sire             Forbad his eager efforts by a sign.             Then thus the royal youth to all around--                 Gods! either I shall prove of little force             Hereafter, and for manly feats unapt,             Or I am yet too young, and have not strength             To quell the aggressor's contumely. But come--             (For ye have strength surpassing mine) try ye             The bow, and bring this contest to an end.                 He ceas'd, and set the bow down on the floor,             Reclining it against the shaven pannels smooth             That lined the wall; the arrow next he placed,             Leaning against the bow's bright-polish'd horn,             And to the seat, whence he had ris'n, return'd.             Then thus Eupithes' son, Antinos spake.                 My friends! come forth successive from the right,[99]             Where he who ministers the cup begins.                 So spake Antinos, and his counsel pleased.             Then, first, Leiodes, Oenop's son, arose.             He was their soothsayer, and ever sat             Beside the beaker, inmost of them all.             To him alone, of all, licentious deeds             Were odious, and, with indignation fired,             He witness'd the excesses of the rest.             He then took foremost up the shaft and bow,             And, station'd at the portal, strove to bend             But bent it not, fatiguing, first, his hands             Delicate and uncustom'd to the toil.             He ceased, and the assembly thus bespake.                 My friends, I speed not; let another try;             For many Princes shall this bow of life             Bereave, since death more eligible seems,             Far more, than loss of her, for whom we meet             Continual here, expecting still the prize.             Some suitor, haply, at this moment, hopes             That he shall wed whom long he hath desired,             Ulysses' wife, Penelope; let him             Essay the bow, and, trial made, address             His spousal offers to some other fair             Among the long-stoled Princesses of Greece,             This Princess leaving his, whose proffer'd gifts             Shall please her most, and whom the Fates ordain.                 He said, and set the bow down on the floor,             Reclining it against the shaven pannels smooth             That lined the wall; the arrow, next, he placed,             Leaning against the bow's bright-polish'd horn,             And to the seat whence he had ris'n return'd.             Then him Antinos, angry, thus reproved.                 What word, Leiodes, grating to our ears             Hath scap'd thy lips? I hear it with disdain.             Shall this bow fatal prove to many a Prince,             Because thou hast, thyself, too feeble proved             To bend it? no. Thou wast not born to bend             The unpliant bow, or to direct the shaft,             But here are nobler who shall soon prevail.                 He said, and to Melanthius gave command,             The goat-herd. Hence, Melanthius, kindle fire;             Beside it place, with fleeces spread, a form             Of length commodious; from within procure             A large round cake of suet next, with which             When we have chafed and suppled the tough bow             Before the fire, we will again essay             To bend it, and decide the doubtful strife.                 He ended, and Melanthius, kindling fire             Beside it placed, with fleeces spread, a form             Of length commodious; next, he brought a cake             Ample and round of suet from within,             With which they chafed the bow, then tried again             To bend, but bent it not; superior strength             To theirs that task required. Yet two, the rest             In force surpassing, made no trial yet,             Antinos, and Eurymachus the brave.                 Then went the herdsman and the swine-herd forth             Together; after whom, the glorious Chief             Himself the house left also, and when all             Without the court had met, with gentle speech             Ulysses, then, the faithful pair address'd.                 Herdsman! and thou, Eumus! shall I keep             A certain secret close, or shall I speak             Outright? my spirit prompts me, and I will.             What welcome should Ulysses at your hands             Receive, arriving suddenly at home,             Some God his guide; would ye the suitors aid,             Or would ye aid Ulysses? answer true.                 Then thus the chief intendant of his herds.             Would Jove but grant me my desire, to see             Once more the Hero, and would some kind Pow'r,             Restore him, I would shew thee soon an arm             Strenuous to serve him, and a dauntless heart.                 Eumus, also, fervently implored             The Gods in pray'r, that they would render back             Ulysses to his home. He, then, convinced             Of their unfeigning honesty, began.                 Behold him! I am he myself, arrived             After long suff'rings in the twentieth year!             I know how welcome to yourselves alone             Of all my train I come, for I have heard             None others praying for my safe return.             I therefore tell you truth; should heav'n subdue             The suitors under me, ye shall receive             Each at my hands a bride, with lands and house             Near to my own, and ye shall be thenceforth             Dear friends and brothers of the Prince my son.             Lo! also this indisputable proof             That ye may know and trust me. View it here.             It is the scar which in Parnassus erst             (Where with the sons I hunted of renown'd             Autolycus) I from a boar received.                 So saying, he stripp'd his tatters, and unveil'd             The whole broad scar; then, soon as they had seen             And surely recognized the mark, each cast             His arms around Ulysses, wept, embraced             And press'd him to his bosom, kissing oft             His brows and shoulders, who as oft their hands             And foreheads kiss'd, nor had the setting sun             Beheld them satisfied, but that himself             Ulysses thus admonished them, and said.                 Cease now from tears, lest any, coming forth,             Mark and report them to our foes within.             Now, to the hall again, but one by one,             Not all at once, I foremost, then yourselves,             And this shall be the sign. Full well I know             That, all unanimous, they will oppose             Deliv'ry of the bow and shafts to me;             But thou, (proceeding with it to my seat)             Eumus, noble friend! shalt give the bow             Into my grasp; then bid the women close             The massy doors, and should they hear a groan             Or other noise made by the Princes shut             Within the hall, let none set step abroad,             But all work silent. Be the palace-door             Thy charge, my good Philoetius! key it fast             Without a moment's pause, and fix the brace.[100]                 He ended, and, returning to the hall,             Resumed his seat; nor stay'd his servants long             Without, but follow'd their illustrious Lord.             Eurymachus was busily employ'd             Turning the bow, and chafing it before             The sprightly blaze, but, after all, could find             No pow'r to bend it. Disappointment wrung             A groan from his proud heart, and thus he said.                 Alas! not only for myself I grieve,             But grieve for all. Nor, though I mourn the loss             Of such a bride, mourn I that loss alone,             (For lovely Greecians may be found no few             In Ithaca, and in the neighbour isles)             But should we so inferior prove at last             To brave Ulysses, that no force of ours             Can bend his bow, we are for ever shamed.                 To whom Antinos, thus, Eupithes' son.             Not so; (as even thou art well-assured             Thyself, Eurymachus!) but Phoebus claims             This day his own. Who then, on such a day,             Would strive to bend it? Let it rather rest.             And should we leave the rings where now they stand,             I trust that none ent'ring Ulysses' house             Will dare displace them. Cup-bearer, attend!             Serve all with wine, that, first, libation made,             We may religiously lay down the bow.             Command ye too Melanthius, that he drive             Hither the fairest goats of all his flocks             At dawn of day, that burning first, the thighs             To the ethereal archer, we may make             New trial, and decide, at length, the strife.                 So spake Antinos, and his counsel pleased.             The heralds, then, pour'd water on their hands,             While youths crown'd high the goblets which they bore             From right to left, distributing to all.             When each had made libation, and had drunk             Till well sufficed, then, artful to effect             His shrewd designs, Ulysses thus began.                 Hear, O ye suitors of the illustrious Queen,             My bosom's dictates. But I shall entreat             Chiefly Eurymachus and the godlike youth             Antinos, whose advice is wisely giv'n.                 Tamper no longer with the bow, but leave             The matter with the Gods, who shall decide             The strife to-morrow, fav'ring whom they will.             Meantime, grant me the polish'd bow, that I             May trial make among you of my force,             If I retain it still in like degree             As erst, or whether wand'ring and defect             Of nourishment have worn it all away.                 He said, whom they with indignation heard             Extreme, alarm'd lest he should bend the bow,             And sternly thus Antinos replied.                 Desperate vagabond! ah wretch deprived             Of reason utterly! art not content?             Esteem'st it not distinction proud enough             To feast with us the nobles of the land?             None robs thee of thy share, thou witnessest             Our whole discourse, which, save thyself alone,             No needy vagrant is allow'd to hear.             Thou art befool'd by wine, as many have been,             Wide-throated drinkers, unrestrain'd by rule.             Wine in the mansion of the mighty Chief             Pirithos, made the valiant Centaur mad             Eurytion, at the Lapithan feast.[101]             He drank to drunkenness, and being drunk,             Committed great enormities beneath             Pirithos' roof, and such as fill'd with rage             The Hero-guests; who therefore by his feet             Dragg'd him right through the vestibule, amerced             Of nose and ears, and he departed thence             Provoked to frenzy by that foul disgrace,             Whence war between the human kind arose             And the bold Centaurs--but he first incurred             By his ebriety that mulct severe.             Great evil, also, if thou bend the bow,             To thee I prophesy; for thou shalt find             Advocate or protector none in all             This people, but we will dispatch thee hence             Incontinent on board a sable bark             To Echetus, the scourge of human kind,             From whom is no escape. Drink then in peace,             And contest shun with younger men than thou.                 Him answer'd, then, Penelope discrete.             Antinos! neither seemly were the deed             Nor just, to maim or harm whatever guest             Whom here arrived Telemachus receives.             Canst thou expect, that should he even prove             Stronger than ye, and bend the massy bow,             He will conduct me hence to his own home,             And make me his own bride? No such design             His heart conceives, or hope; nor let a dread             So vain the mind of any overcloud             Who banquets here, since it dishonours me.                 So she; to whom Eurymachus reply'd,             Offspring of Polybus. O matchless Queen!             Icarius' prudent daughter! none suspects             That thou wilt wed with him; a mate so mean             Should ill become thee; but we fear the tongues             Of either sex, lest some Achaian say             Hereafter, (one inferior far to us)             Ah! how unworthy are they to compare             With him whose wife they seek! to bend his bow             Pass'd all their pow'r, yet this poor vagabond,             Arriving from what country none can tell,             Bent it with ease, and shot through all the rings.             So will they speak, and so shall we be shamed.                 Then answer, thus, Penelope return'd.             No fair report, Eurymachus, attends             Their names or can, who, riotous as ye,             The house dishonour, and consume the wealth             Of such a Chief. Why shame ye thus yourselves?             The guest is of athletic frame, well form'd,             And large of limb; he boasts him also sprung             From noble ancestry. Come then--consent--             Give him the bow, that we may see the proof;             For thus I say, and thus will I perform;             Sure as he bends it, and Apollo gives             To him that glory, tunic fair and cloak             Shall be his meed from me, a javelin keen             To guard him against men and dogs, a sword             Of double edge, and sandals for his feet,             And I will send him whither most he would.                 Her answer'd then prudent Telemachus.             Mother--the bow is mine; and, save myself,             No Greek hath right to give it, or refuse.             None who in rock-bound Ithaca possess             Dominion, none in the steed-pastured isles             Of Elis, if I chose to make the bow             His own for ever, should that choice controul.             But thou into the house repairing, ply             Spindle and loom, thy province, and enjoin             Diligence to thy maidens; for the bow             Is man's concern alone, and shall be mine             Especially, since I am master here.                 She heard astonish'd, and the prudent speech             Reposing of her son deep in her heart,             Withdrew; then mounting with her female train             To her superior chamber, there she wept             Her lost Ulysses, till Minerva bathed             With balmy dews of sleep her weary lids.             And now the noble swine-herd bore the bow             Toward Ulysses, but with one voice all             The suitors, clamorous, reproved the deed,             Of whom a youth, thus, insolent exclaim'd.                 Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither bear'st the bow,             Delirious wretch? the hounds that thou hast train'd             Shall eat thee at thy solitary home             Ere long, let but Apollo prove, at last,             Propitious to us, and the Pow'rs of heav'n.                 So they, whom hearing he replaced the bow             Where erst it stood, terrified at the sound             Of such loud menaces; on the other side             Telemachus as loud assail'd his ear.                 Friend! forward with the bow; or soon repent             That thou obey'dst the many. I will else             With huge stones drive thee, younger as I am,             Back to the field. My strength surpasses thine.             I would to heav'n that I in force excell'd             As far, and prowess, every suitor here!             So would I soon give rude dismission hence             To some, who live but to imagine harm.                 He ceased, whose words the suitors laughing heard.             And, for their sake, in part their wrath resign'd             Against Telemachus; then through the hall             Eumus bore, and to Ulysses' hand             Consign'd the bow; next, summoning abroad             The ancient nurse, he gave her thus in charge.                 It is the pleasure of Telemachus,             Sage Euryclea! that thou key secure             The doors; and should you hear, perchance, a groan             Or other noise made by the Princes shut             Within the hall, let none look, curious, forth,             But each in quietness pursue her work.                 So he; nor flew his words useless away,             But she, incontinent, shut fast the doors.             Then, noiseless, sprang Philoetius forth, who closed             The portals also of the palace-court.             A ship-rope of gyptian reed, it chanced,             Lay in the vestibule; with that he braced             The doors securely, and re-entring fill'd             Again his seat, but watchful, eyed his Lord.             He, now, assaying with his hand the bow,             Made curious trial of it ev'ry way,             And turn'd it on all sides, lest haply worms             Had in its master's absence drill'd the horn.             Then thus a suitor to his next remark'd.                 He hath an eye, methinks, exactly skill'd             In bows, and steals them; or perhaps, at home,             Hath such himself, or feels a strong desire             To make them; so inquisitive the rogue             Adept in mischief, shifts it to and fro!                 To whom another, insolent, replied.             I wish him like prosperity in all             His efforts, as attends his effort made             On this same bow, which he shall never bend.                 So they; but when the wary Hero wise             Had made his hand familiar with the bow             Poising it and examining--at once--             As when in harp and song adept, a bard             Unlab'ring strains the chord to a new lyre,             The twisted entrails of a sheep below             With fingers nice inserting, and above,             With such facility Ulysses bent             His own huge bow, and with his right hand play'd             The nerve, which in its quick vibration sang             Clear as the swallow's voice. Keen anguish seized             The suitors, wan grew ev'ry cheek, and Jove             Gave him his rolling thunder for a sign.             That omen, granted to him by the son             Of wily Saturn, with delight he heard.             He took a shaft that at the table-side             Lay ready drawn; but in his quiver's womb             The rest yet slept, by those Achaians proud             To be, ere long, experienced. True he lodg'd             The arrow on the centre of the bow,             And, occupying still his seat, drew home             Nerve and notch'd arrow-head; with stedfast sight             He aimed and sent it; right through all the rings             From first to last the steel-charged weapon flew             Issuing beyond, and to his son he spake.                 Thou need'st not blush, young Prince, to have received             A guest like me; neither my arrow swerved,             Nor labour'd I long time to draw the bow;             My strength is unimpair'd, not such as these             In scorn affirm it. But the waning day             Calls us to supper, after which succeeds[102]             Jocund variety, the song, the harp,             With all that heightens and adorns the feast.                 He said, and with his brows gave him the sign.             At once the son of the illustrious Chief             Slung his keen faulchion, grasp'd his spear, and stood             Arm'd bright for battle at his father's side.