BOOK XVII.
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Homer and Pope, Alexander
To whom Antinous thus his rage express’d: “What god has plagued us with this gourmand guest? Unless at distance, wretch! thou keep behind, Another isle, than Cyprus more unkind, Another Egypt shalt thou quickly find. From all thou begg’st, a bold audacious slave; Nor all can give so much as thou canst crave. Nor wonder I, at such profusion shown; Shameless they give, who give what’s not their own.”
The chief, retiring: “Souls, like that in thee, Ill suits such forms of grace and dignity. Nor will that hand to utmost need afford The smallest portion of a wasteful board, Whose luxury whole patrimonies sweeps, Yet starving want, amidst the riot, weeps.”
The haughty suitor with resentment burns, And, sourly smiling, this reply returns: “Take that, ere yet thou quit this princely throng; And dumb for ever be thy slanderous tongue!” He said, and high the whirling tripod flung. His shoulder-blade received the ungentle shock; He stood, and moved not, like a marble rock; But shook his thoughtful head, nor more complain’d, Sedate of soul, his character sustain’d, And inly form’d revenge; then back withdrew: Before his feet the well fill’d scrip he threw, And thus with semblance mild address’d the crew:
“May what I speak your princely minds approve, Ye peers and rivals in this noble love! Not for the hurt I grieve, but for the cause. If, when the sword our country’s quarrel draws, Or if, defending what is justly dear, From Mars impartial some broad wound we bear, The generous motive dignifies the scar. But for mere want, how hard to suffer wrong! Want brings enough of other ills along! Yet, if injustice never be secure, If fiends revenge, and gods assert the poor, Death shall lay low the proud aggressor’s head, And make the dust Antinous’ bridal bed.”
“Peace, wretch! and eat thy bread without offence (The suitor cried), or force shall drag thee hence, Scourge through the public street, and cast thee there, A mangled carcase for the hounds to tear.”
His furious deed the general anger moved, All, even the worst, condemn’d; and some reproved. “Was ever chief for wars like these renown’d? Ill fits the stranger and the poor to wound. Unbless’d thy hand! if in this low disguise Wander, perhaps, some inmate of the skies; They (curious oft of mortal actions) deign In forms like these to round the earth and main, Just and unjust recording in their mind, And with sure eyes inspecting all mankind.”
Telemachus, absorb’d in thought severe, Nourish’d deep anguish, though he shed no tear; But the dark brow of silent sorrow shook: While thus his mother to her virgins spoke:
“On him and his may the bright god of day That base, inhospitable blow repay!” The nurse replies: “If Jove receives my prayer, Not one survives to breathe to-morrow’s air.”
“All, all are foes, and mischief is their end; Antinous most to gloomy death a friend (Replies the queen): the stranger begg’d their grace, And melting pity soften’d every face; From every other hand redress he found, But fell Antinous answer’d with a wound.” Amidst her maids thus spoke the prudent queen, Then bade Eumaeus call the pilgrim in. “Much of the experienced man I long to hear, If or his certain eye, or listening ear, Have learn’d the fortunes of my wandering lord?” Thus she, and good Eumaeus took the word:
“A private audience if thy grace impart, The stranger’s words may ease the royal heart. His sacred eloquence in balm distils, And the soothed heart with secret pleasure fills. Three days have spent their beams, three nights have run Their silent journey, since his tale begun, Unfinish’d yet; and yet I thirst to hear! As when some heaven-taught poet charms the ear (Suspending sorrow with celestial strain Breathed from the gods to soften human pain) Time steals away with unregarded wing, And the soul hears him, though he cease to sing
“Ulysses late he saw, on Cretan ground (His fathers guest), for Minos’ birth renown’d. He now but waits the wind to waft him o’er, With boundless treasure, from Thesprotia’s shore.”
To this the queen: “The wanderer let me hear, While yon luxurious race indulge their cheer, Devour the grazing ox, and browsing goat, And turn my generous vintage down their throat. For where’s an arm, like thine, Ulysses! strong, To curb wild riot, and to punish wrong?”
She spoke. Telemachus then sneezed aloud; Constrain’d, his nostril echoed through the crowd. The smiling queen the happy omen bless’d:
“So may these impious fall, by Fate oppress’d!” Then to Eumaeus: “Bring the stranger, fly! And if my questions meet a true reply, Graced with a decent robe he shall retire, A gift in season which his wants require.”
Thus spoke Penelope. Eumaeus flies In duteous haste, and to Ulysses cries: “The queen invites thee, venerable guest! A secret instinct moves her troubled breast, Of her long absent lord from thee to gain Some light, and soothe her soul’s eternal pain. If true, if faithful thou, her grateful mind Of decent robes a present has design’d: So finding favour in the royal eye, Thy other wants her subjects shall supply.”
“Fair truth alone (the patient man replied) My words shall dictate, and my lips shall guide. To him, to me, one common lot was given, In equal woes, alas! involved by Heaven. Much of his fates I know; but check’d by fear I stand; the hand of violence is here: Here boundless wrongs the starry skies invade, And injured suppliants seek in vain for aid. Let for a space the pensive queen attend, Nor claim my story till the sun descend; Then in such robes as suppliants may require, Composed and cheerful by the genial fire, When loud uproar and lawless riot cease, Shall her pleased ear receive my words in peace.”
Swift to the queen returns the gentle swain: “And say (she cries), does fear or shame detain The cautious stranger? With the begging kind Shame suits but ill.” Eumaeus thus rejoin’d:
“He only asks a more propitious hour, And shuns (who would not?) wicked men in power; At evening mild (meet season to confer) By turns to question, and by turns to hear.”
“Whoe’er this guest (the prudent queen replies) His every step and every thought is wise. For men like these on earth he shall not find In all the miscreant race of human kind.” Thus she. Eumaeus all her words attends, And, parting, to the suitor powers descends; There seeks Telemachus, and thus apart In whispers breathes the fondness of his heart:
“The time, my lord, invites me to repair Hence to the lodge; my charge demands my care. These sons of murder thirst thy life to take; O guard it, guard it, for thy servant’s sake!”
“Thanks to my friend (he cries): but now the hour Of night draws on, go seek the rural bower: But first refresh: and at the dawn of day Hither a victim to the gods convey. Our life to Heaven’s immortal powers we trust, Safe in their care, for Heaven protects the just.”
Observant of his voice, Eumaeus sate And fed recumbent on a chair of state. Then instant rose, and as he moved along, ’Twas riot all amid the suitor throng, They feast, they dance, and raise the mirthful song Till now, declining towards the close of day, The sun obliquely shot his dewy ray.