The Odyssey

Deep o’er his knee inseam’d remain’d the scar; Which noted token of the woodland war When Euryclea found, the ablution ceased: Down dropp’d the leg, from her slack hand released; The mingled fluids from the base redound; The vase reclining floats the floor around! Smiles dew’d with tears the pleasing strife express’d Of grief and joy, alternate in her breast. Her fluttering words in melting murmurs died; At length abrupt—“My son!—my king!”—she cried. His neck with fond embrace infolding fast, Full on the queen her raptured eye she cast Ardent to speak the monarch safe restored: But, studious to conceal her royal lord, Minerva fix’d her mind on views remote, And from the present bliss abstracts her thought. His hand to Euryclea’s mouth applied, “Art thou foredoom’d my pest? (the hero cried:) Thy milky founts my infant lips have drain’d; And have the Fates thy babbling age ordain’d To violate the life thy youth sustain’d? An exile have I told, with weeping eyes, Full twenty annual suns in distant skies; At length return’d, some god inspires thy breast To know thy king, and here I stand confess’d. This heaven-discover’d truth to thee consign’d, Reserve the treasure of thy inmost mind: Else, if the gods my vengeful arm sustain, And prostrate to my sword the suitor-train; With their lewd mates, thy undistinguish’d age Shall bleed a victim to vindictive rage.”

Then thus rejoin’d the dame, devoid of fear: “What words, my son, have passed thy lips severe? Deep in my soul the trust shall lodge secured; With ribs of steel, and marble heart, immured. When Heaven, auspicious to thy right avow’d, Shall prostrate to thy sword the suitor-crowd, The deeds I’ll blazon of the menial fair; The lewd to death devote, the virtuous spare.”

He said: obsequious, with redoubled pace, She to the fount conveys the exhausted vase: The bath renew’d, she ends the pleasing toil With plenteous unction of ambrosial oil. Adjusting to his limbs the tatter’d vest, His former seat received the stranger guest; Whom thus with pensive air the queen addressed:

“Though night, dissolving grief in grateful ease, Your drooping eyes with soft impression seize; Awhile, reluctant to her pleasing force, Suspend the restful hour with sweet discourse. The day (ne’er brighten’d with a beam of joy!) My menials, and domestic cares employ; And, unattended by sincere repose, The night assists my ever-wakeful woes; When nature’s hush’d beneath her brooding shade, My echoing griefs the starry vault invade. As when the months are clad in flowery green, Sad Philomel, in bowery shades unseen, To vernal airs attunes her varied strains; And Itylus sounds warbling o’er the plains; Young Itylus, his parents’ darling joy! Whom chance misled the mother to destroy; Now doom’d a wakeful bird to wail the beauteous boy. So in nocturnal solitude forlorn, A sad variety of woes I mourn! My mind, reflective, in a thorny maze Devious from care to care incessant strays. Now, wavering doubt succeeds to long despair; Shall I my virgin nuptial vow revere; And, joining to my son’s my menial train, Partake his counsels, and assist his reign? Or, since, mature in manhood, he deplores His dome dishonour’d, and exhausted stores; Shall I, reluctant! to his will accord; And from the peers select the noblest lord; So by my choice avow’d, at length decide These wasteful love-debates, a mourning bride! A visionary thought I’ll now relate; Illustrate, if you know, the shadow’d fate:

“A team of twenty geese (a snow-white train!) Fed near the limpid lake with golden grain, Amuse my pensive hours. The bird of Jove Fierce from his mountain-eyrie downward drove; Each favourite fowl he pounced with deathful sway, And back triumphant wing’d his airy way. My pitying eyes effused a plenteous stream, To view their death thus imaged in a dream; With tender sympathy to soothe my soul, A troop of matrons, fancy-form’d, condole. But whilst with grief and rage my bosom burn’d, Sudden the tyrant of the skies returned; Perch’d on the battlements he thus began (In form an eagle, but in voice a man): `O queen! no vulgar vision of the sky I come, prophetic of approaching joy; View in this plumy form thy victor-lord; The geese (a glutton race) by thee deplored, Portend the suitors fated to my sword.’ This said, the pleasing feather’d omen ceased. When from the downy bands of sleep released, Fast by the limpid lake my swan-like train I found, insatiate of the golden grain.”

“Hard is the task, and rare,” (the queen rejoin’d,) Impending destinies in dreams to find; Immured within the silent bower of sleep, Two portals firm the various phantoms keep; Of ivory one; whence flit, to mock the brain, Of winged lies a light fantastic train; The gate opposed pellucid valves adorn, And columns fair incased with polish’d horn; Where images of truth for passage wait, With visions manifest of future fate. Not to this troop, I fear, that phantom soar’d, Which spoke Ulysses to this realm restored; Delusive semblance!-but my remnant life Heaven shall determine in a gameful strife; With that famed bow Ulysses taught to bend, For me the rival archers shall contend. As on the listed field he used to place Six beams, opposed to six in equal space; Elanced afar by his unerring art, Sure through six circlets flew the whizzing dart. So, when the sun restores the purple day, Their strength and skill the suitors shall assay; To him the spousal honour is decreed, Who through the rings directs the feather’d reed. Torn from these walls (where long the kinder powers With joy and pomp have wing’d my youthful hours!) On this poor breast no dawn of bliss shall beam; The pleasure past supplies a copious theme For many a dreary thought, and many a doleful dream!”

To whom with grace serene the queen rejoin’d: “In all thy speech what pleasing force I find! O’er my suspended woe thy words prevail; I part reluctant from the pleasing tale, But Heaven, that knows what all terrestrials need, Repose to night, and toil to day decreed; Grateful vicissitudes! yet me withdrawn, Wakeful to weep and watch the tardy dawn Establish’d use enjoins; to rest and joy Estranged, since dear Ulysses sail’d to Troy! Meantime instructed is the menial tribe Your couch to fashion as yourself prescribe.”

Thus affable, her bower the queen ascends; The sovereign step a beauteous train attends; There imaged to her soul Ulysses rose; Down her pale cheek new-streaming sorrow flows; Till soft oblivious shade Minerva spread, And o’er her eyes ambrosial slumber shed.