The Odyssey

Then Medon, conscious of their dire debates, The murderous counsel to the queen relates. Touch’d at the dreadful story, she descends: Her hasty steps a damsel train attends. Full where the dome its shining valves expands, Sudden before the rival powers she stands; And, veiling, decent, with a modest shade Her cheek, indignant to Antinous said:

“O void of faith! of all bad men the worst! Renown’d for wisdom, by the abuse accursed! Mistaking fame proclaims thy generous mind: Thy deeds denote thee of the basest kind. Wretch! to destroy a prince that friendship gives, While in his guest his murderer he receives; Nor dread superior Jove, to whom belong The cause of suppliants, and revenge of wrong. Hast thou forgot, ungrateful as thou art, Who saved thy father with a friendly part? Lawless he ravaged with his martial powers The Taphian pirates on Thesprotia’s shores; Enraged, his life, his treasures they demand; Ulysses saved him from the avenger’s hand. And would’st thou evil for his good repay? His bed dishonour, and his house betray? Afflict his queen, and with a murderous hand Destroy his heir!—but cease, ’tis I command.”

“Far hence those fears (Eurymachus replied,) O prudent princess! bid thy soul confide. Breathes there a man who dares that hero slay, While I behold the golden light of day? No: by the righteous powers of heaven I swear, His blood in vengeance smokes upon my spear. Ulysses, when my infant days I led, With wine sufficed me, and with dainties fed: My generous soul abhors the ungrateful part, And my friend’s son lives nearest to my heart. Then fear no mortal arm; if Heaven destroy, We must resign: for man is born to die.”

Thus smooth he ended, yet his death conspired: Then sorrowing, with sad step the queen retired, With streaming eyes, all comfortless deplored, Touch’d with the dear remembrance of her lord: Nor ceased till Pallas bids her sorrows fly, And in soft slumber seal’d her flowing eye.

And now Eumaeus, at the evening hour, Came late, returning to his sylvan bower. Ulysses and his son had dress’d with art A yearling boar, and gave the gods their part. Holy repast! That instant from the skies The martial goddess to Ulysses flies: She waves her golden wand, and reassumes From every feature every grace that blooms; At once his vestures change; at once she sheds Age o’er his limbs, that tremble as he treads: Lest to the queen the swain with transport fly, Unable to contain the unruly joy; When near he drew, the prince breaks forth: “Proclaim What tidings, friend? what speaks the voice of fame? Say, if the suitors measure back the main, Or still in ambush thirst for blood in vain?”

“Whether (he cries) they measure back the flood, Or still in ambush thirst in vain for blood, Escaped my care: where lawless suitors sway, Thy mandate borne my soul disdain’d to stay. But from the Hermaean height I cast a view, Where to the port a bark high-bounding flew; Her freight a shining band: with martial air Each poised his shield, and each advanced his spear; And, if aright these searching eyes survey, The eluded suitors stem the watery way.”

The prince, well pleased to disappoint their wiles, Steals on his sire a glance, and secret smiles. And now, a short repast prepared, they fed Till the keen rage of craving hunger fled: Then to repose withdrawn, apart they lay, And in soft sleep forgot the cares of day.