{"id":96,"date":"2021-05-25T14:06:08","date_gmt":"2021-05-25T18:06:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/odyssey\/chapter\/book-i\/"},"modified":"2022-02-01T10:50:07","modified_gmt":"2022-02-01T15:50:07","slug":"1","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/chapter\/1\/","title":{"raw":"Book I","rendered":"Book I"},"content":{"raw":"

Argument<\/b><\/h2>\r\nIn a council of the Gods, Minerva calls their attention to Ulysses, still a wanderer. They resolve to grant him a safe return to Ithaca. Minerva descends to encourage Telemachus, and in the form of Mentes directs him in what manner to proceed. Throughout this book the extravagance and profligacy of the suitors are occasionally suggested.\r\n\r\nMuse make the man thy theme, for shrewdness famed\r\nAnd genius versatile, who far and wide\r\nA Wand\u2019rer, after Ilium overthrown,\r\nDiscover\u2019d various cities, and the mind\r\nAnd manners learn\u2019d of men, in lands remote.\r\nHe num\u2019rous woes on Ocean toss\u2019d, endured,\r\nAnxious to save himself, and to conduct\r\nHis followers to their home; yet all his care\r\nPreserved them not; they perish\u2019d self-destroy\u2019d\r\nBy their own fault; infatuate! who devoured\r\nThe oxen of the all-o\u2019erseeing Sun,\r\nAnd, punish\u2019d for that crime, return\u2019d no more.\r\nDaughter divine of Jove, these things record,\r\nAs it may please thee, even in our ears.\r\nThe rest, all those who had perdition \u2019scaped\r\nBy war or on the Deep, dwelt now at home;\r\nHim only, of his country and his wife\r\nAlike desirous, in her hollow grots\r\nCalypso, Goddess beautiful, detained\r\nWooing him to her arms. But when, at length,\r\n(Many a long year elapsed) the year arrived\r\nOf his return (by the decree of heav\u2019n)\r\nTo Ithaca, not even then had he,\r\nAlthough surrounded by his people, reach\u2019d\r\nThe period of his suff\u2019rings and his toils.\r\nYet all the Gods, with pity moved, beheld\r\nHis woes, save Neptune; He alone with wrath\r\nUnceasing and implacable pursued\r\nGodlike Ulysses to his native shores.\r\nBut Neptune, now, the \u00c6thiopians fought,\r\n(The \u00c6thiopians, utmost of mankind,\r\nThese Eastward situate, those toward the West)\r\nCall\u2019d to an hecatomb of bulls and lambs.\r\nThere sitting, pleas\u2019d he banqueted; the Gods\r\nIn Jove\u2019s abode, meantime, assembled all,\r\n\u2019Midst whom the Sire of heav\u2019n and earth began.\r\nFor he recall\u2019d to mind \u00c6gisthus slain\r\nBy Agamemnon\u2019s celebrated son\r\nOrestes, and retracing in his thought\r\nThat dread event, the Immortals thus address\u2019d.\r\nAlas! how prone are human-kind to blame\r\nThe Pow\u2019rs of Heav\u2019n! From us, they say, proceed\r\nThe ills which they endure, yet more than Fate\r\nHerself inflicts, by their own crimes incur.\r\nSo now \u00c6gisthus, by no force constrained\r\nOf Destiny, Atrides\u2019 wedded wife\r\nTook to himself, and him at his return\r\nSlew, not unwarn\u2019d of his own dreadful end\r\nBy us: for we commanded Hermes down\r\nThe watchful Argicide, who bade him fear\r\nAlike, to slay the King, or woo the Queen.\r\nFor that Atrides\u2019 son Orestes, soon\r\nAs grown mature, and eager to assume\r\nHis sway imperial, should avenge the deed.\r\nSo Hermes spake, but his advice moved not\r\n\u00c6gisthus, on whose head the whole arrear\r\nOf vengeance heap\u2019d, at last, hath therefore fall\u2019n.\r\nWhom answer\u2019d then Pallas c\u00e6rulean-eyed.\r\nOh Jove, Saturnian Sire, o\u2019er all supreme!\r\nAnd well he merited the death he found;\r\nSo perish all, who shall, like him, offend.\r\nBut with a bosom anguish-rent I view\r\nUlysses, hapless Chief! who from his friends\r\nRemote, affliction hath long time endured\r\nIn yonder wood-land isle, the central boss\r\nOf Ocean. That retreat a Goddess holds,\r\nDaughter of sapient Atlas, who the abyss\r\nKnows to its bottom, and the pillars high\r\nHimself upbears which sep\u2019rate earth from heav\u2019n.\r\nHis daughter, there, the sorrowing Chief detains,\r\nAnd ever with smooth speech insidious seeks\r\nTo wean his heart from Ithaca; meantime\r\nUlysses, happy might he but behold\r\nThe smoke ascending from his native land,\r\nDeath covets. Canst thou not, Olympian Jove!\r\nAt last relent? Hath not Ulysses oft\r\nWith victims slain amid Achaia\u2019s fleet\r\nThee gratified, while yet at Troy he fought?\r\nHow hath he then so deep incensed thee, Jove?\r\nTo whom, the cloud-assembler God replied.\r\nWhat word hath pass\u2019d thy lips, Daughter belov\u2019d?\r\nCan I forget Ulysses? Him forget\r\nSo noble, who in wisdom all mankind\r\nExcels, and who hath sacrific\u2019d so oft\r\nTo us whose dwelling is the boundless heav\u2019n?\r\nEarth-circling Neptune\u2014He it is whose wrath\r\nPursues him ceaseless for the Cyclops\u2019 sake\r\nPolypheme, strongest of the giant race,\r\nWhom of his eye Ulysses hath deprived.\r\nFor Him, Tho\u00f6sa bore, Nymph of the sea\r\nFrom Phorcys sprung, by Ocean\u2019s mighty pow\u2019r\r\nImpregnated in caverns of the Deep.\r\nE\u2019er since that day, the Shaker of the shores,\r\nAlthough he slay him not, yet devious drives\r\nUlysses from his native isle afar.\r\nYet come\u2014in full assembly his return\r\nContrive we now, both means and prosp\u2019rous end;\r\nSo Neptune shall his wrath remit, whose pow\u2019r\r\nIn contest with the force of all the Gods\r\nExerted single, can but strive in vain.\r\nTo whom Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed.\r\nOh Jupiter! above all Kings enthroned!\r\nIf the Immortals ever-blest ordain\r\nThat wise Ulysses to his home return,\r\nDispatch we then Hermes the Argicide,\r\nOur messenger, hence to Ogygia\u2019s isle,\r\nWho shall inform Calypso, nymph divine,\r\nOf this our fixt resolve, that to his home\r\nUlysses, toil-enduring Chief, repair.\r\nMyself will hence to Ithaca, meantime,\r\nHis son to animate, and with new force\r\nInspire, that (the Achaians all convened\r\nIn council,) he may, instant, bid depart\r\nThe suitors from his home, who, day by day,\r\nHis num\u2019rous flocks and fatted herds consume.\r\nAnd I will send him thence to Sparta forth,\r\nAnd into sandy Pylus, there to hear\r\n(If hear he may) some tidings of his Sire,\r\nAnd to procure himself a glorious name.\r\nThis said, her golden sandals to her feet\r\nShe bound, ambrosial, which o\u2019er all the earth\r\nAnd o\u2019er the moist flood waft her fleet as air,\r\nThen, seizing her strong spear pointed with brass,\r\nIn length and bulk, and weight a matchless beam,\r\nWith which the Jove-born Goddess levels ranks\r\nOf Heroes, against whom her anger burns,\r\nFrom the Olympian summit down she flew,\r\nAnd on the threshold of Ulysses\u2019 hall\r\nIn Ithaca, and within his vestibule\r\nApparent stood; there, grasping her bright spear,\r\nMentes[footnote]We are told that Homer was under obligations to Mentes, who had frequently given him a passage in his ship to different countries which he wished to see, for which reason he has here immortalised him.[\/footnote] she seem\u2019d, the hospitable Chief\r\nOf Taphos\u2019 isle\u2014she found the haughty throng\r\nThe suitors; they before the palace gate\r\nWith iv\u2019ry cubes sported, on num\u2019rous hides\r\nReclined of oxen which themselves had slain.\r\nThe heralds and the busy menials there\r\nMinister\u2019d to them; these their mantling cups\r\nWith water slaked; with bibulous sponges those\r\nMade clean the tables, set the banquet on,\r\nAnd portioned out to each his plenteous share.\r\nLong ere the rest Telemachus himself\r\nMark\u2019d her, for sad amid them all he sat,\r\nPourtraying in deep thought contemplative\r\nHis noble Sire, and questioning if yet\r\nPerchance the Hero might return to chase\r\nFrom all his palace that imperious herd,\r\nTo his own honour lord of his own home.\r\nAmid them musing thus, sudden he saw\r\nThe Goddess, and sprang forth, for he abhorr\u2019d\r\nTo see a guest\u2019s admittance long delay\u2019d;\r\nApproaching eager, her right hand he seized,\r\nThe brazen spear took from her, and in words\r\nWith welcome wing\u2019d Minerva thus address\u2019d.\r\nStranger, all hail! to share our cordial love\r\nThou com\u2019st; the banquet finish\u2019d, thou shalt next\r\nInform me wherefore thou hast here arrived.\r\nSo saying, toward the spacious hall he moved,\r\nFollow\u2019d by Pallas, and, arriving soon\r\nBeneath the lofty roof, placed her bright spear\r\nWithin a pillar\u2019s cavity, long time\r\nThe armoury where many a spear had stood,\r\nBright weapons of his own illustrious Sire.\r\nThen, leading her toward a footstool\u2019d throne\r\nMagnificent, which first he overspread\r\nWith linen, there he seated her, apart\r\nFrom that rude throng, and for himself disposed\r\nA throne of various colours at her side,\r\nLest, stunn\u2019d with clamour of the lawless band,\r\nThe new-arrived should loth perchance to eat,\r\nAnd that more free he might the stranger\u2019s ear\r\nWith questions of his absent Sire address,\r\nAnd now a maiden charg\u2019d with golden ew\u2019r,\r\nAnd with an argent laver, pouring first\r\nPure water on their hands, supplied them, next,\r\nWith a resplendent table, which the chaste\r\nDirectress of the stores furnish\u2019d with bread\r\nAnd dainties, remnants of the last regale.\r\nThen, in his turn, the sewer[footnote]Milton uses the word\u2014Sewers and seneschals.[\/footnote] <\/sup>with sav\u2019ry meats,\r\nDish after dish, served them, of various kinds,\r\nAnd golden cups beside the chargers placed,\r\nWhich the attendant herald fill\u2019d with wine.\r\nEre long, in rush\u2019d the suitors, and the thrones\r\nAnd couches occupied, on all whose hands\r\nThe heralds pour\u2019d pure water; then the maids\r\nAttended them with bread in baskets heap\u2019d,\r\nAnd eager they assail\u2019d the ready feast.\r\nAt length, when neither thirst nor hunger more\r\nThey felt unsatisfied, to new delights\r\nTheir thoughts they turn\u2019d, to song and sprightly dance,\r\nEnlivening sequel of the banquet\u2019s joys.\r\nAn herald, then, to Phemius\u2019 hand consign\u2019d\r\nHis beauteous lyre; he through constraint regaled\r\nThe suitors with his song, and while the chords\r\nHe struck in prelude to his pleasant strains,\r\nTelemachus his head inclining nigh\r\nTo Pallas\u2019 ear, lest others should his words\r\nWitness, the blue-eyed Goddess thus bespake.\r\nMy inmate and my friend! far from my lips\r\nBe ev\u2019ry word that might displease thine ear!\r\nThe song\u2014the harp,\u2014what can they less than charm\r\nThese wantons? who the bread unpurchased eat\r\nOf one whose bones on yonder continent\r\nLie mould\u2019ring, drench\u2019d by all the show\u2019rs of heaven,\r\nOr roll at random in the billowy deep.\r\nAh! could they see him once to his own isle\r\nRestored, both gold and raiment they would wish\r\nFar less, and nimbleness of foot instead.\r\nBut He, alas! hath by a wretched fate,\r\nPast question perish\u2019d, and what news soe\u2019er\r\nWe hear of his return, kindles no hope\r\nIn us, convinced that he returns no more.\r\nBut answer undissembling; tell me true;\r\nWho art thou? whence? where stands thy city? where\r\nThy father\u2019s mansion? In what kind of ship\r\nCam\u2019st thou? Why steer\u2019d the mariners their course\r\nTo Ithaca, and of what land are they?\r\nFor that on foot thou found\u2019st us not, is sure.\r\nThis also tell me, hast thou now arrived\r\nNew to our isle, or wast thou heretofore\r\nMy father\u2019s guest? Since many to our house\r\nResorted in those happier days, for he\r\nDrew pow\u2019rful to himself the hearts of all.\r\nThen Pallas thus, Goddess c\u00e6rulean-eyed.\r\nI will with all simplicity of truth\r\nThy questions satisfy. Behold in me\r\nMentes, the offspring of a Chief renown\u2019d\r\nIn war, Anchialus; and I rule, myself,\r\nAn island race, the Taphians oar-expert.\r\nWith ship and mariners I now arrive,\r\nSeeking a people of another tongue\r\nAthwart the gloomy flood, in quest of brass\r\nFor which I barter steel, ploughing the waves\r\nTo Temesa. My ship beneath the woods\r\nOf Ne\u00efus, at yonder field that skirts\r\nYour city, in the haven Rhethrus rides.\r\nWe are hereditary guests; our Sires\r\nWere friends long since; as, when thou seest him next,\r\nThe Hero old Laertes will avouch,\r\nOf whom, I learn, that he frequents no more\r\nThe city now, but in sequester\u2019d scenes\r\nDwells sorrowful, and by an antient dame\r\nWith food and drink supplied oft as he feels\r\nRefreshment needful to him, while he creeps\r\nBetween the rows of his luxuriant vines.\r\nBut I have come drawn hither by report,\r\nWhich spake thy Sire arrived, though still it seems\r\nThe adverse Gods his homeward course retard.\r\nFor not yet breathless lies the noble Chief,\r\nBut in some island of the boundless flood\r\nResides a prisoner, by barbarous force\r\nOf some rude race detained reluctant there.\r\nAnd I will now foreshow thee what the Gods\r\nTeach me, and what, though neither augur skill\u2019d\r\nNor prophet, I yet trust shall come to pass.\r\nHe shall not, henceforth, live an exile long\r\nFrom his own shores, no, not although in bands\r\nOf iron held, but will ere long contrive\r\nHis own return; for in expedients, framed\r\nWith wond\u2019rous ingenuity, he abounds.\r\nBut tell me true; art thou, in stature such,\r\nSon of himself Ulysses? for thy face\r\nAnd eyes bright-sparkling, strongly indicate\r\nUlysses in thee. Frequent have we both\r\nConversed together thus, thy Sire and I,\r\nEre yet he went to Troy, the mark to which\r\nSo many Princes of Achaia steer\u2019d.\r\nHim since I saw not, nor Ulysses me.\r\nTo whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.\r\nStranger! I tell thee true; my mother\u2019s voice\r\nAffirms me his, but since no mortal knows\r\nHis derivation, I affirm it not.\r\nWould I had been son of some happier Sire,\r\nOrdain\u2019d in calm possession of his own\r\nTo reach the verge of life. But now, report\r\nProclaims me his, whom I of all mankind\r\nUnhappiest deem.\u2014Thy question is resolved.\r\nThen answer thus Pallas blue-eyed return\u2019d.\r\nFrom no ignoble race, in future days,\r\nThe Gods shall prove thee sprung, whom so endow\u2019d\r\nWith ev\u2019ry grace Penelope hath borne.\r\nBut tell me true. What festival is this?\r\nThis throng\u2014whence are they? wherefore hast thou need\r\nOf such a multitude? Behold I here\r\nA banquet, or a nuptial? for these\r\nMeet not by contribution[footnote]\u1f1c\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, a convivial meeting, at which every man paid his proportion, at least contributed something; but it seems to have been a meeting at which strict sobriety was observed, else Pallas would not have inferred from the noise and riot of this, that it was not such a one.[\/footnote] to regale,\r\nWith such brutality and din they hold\r\nTheir riotous banquet! a wise man and good\r\nArriving, now, among them, at the sight\r\nOf such enormities would much be wroth.\r\nTo whom replied Telemachus discrete.\r\nSince, stranger! thou hast ask\u2019d, learn also this.\r\nWhile yet Ulysses, with his people dwelt,\r\nHis presence warranted the hope that here\r\nVirtue should dwell and opulence; but heav\u2019n\r\nHath cast for us, at length, a diff\u2019rent lot,\r\nAnd he is lost, as never man before.\r\nFor I should less lament even his death,\r\nHad he among his friends at Ilium fall\u2019n,\r\nOr in the arms of his companions died,\r\nTroy\u2019s siege accomplish\u2019d. Then his tomb the Greeks\r\nOf ev\u2019ry tribe had built, and for his son,\r\nHe had immortal glory atchieved; but now,\r\nBy harpies torn inglorious, beyond reach\r\nOf eye or ear he lies; and hath to me\r\nGrief only, and unceasing sighs bequeath\u2019d.\r\nNor mourn I for his sake alone; the Gods\r\nHave plann\u2019d for me still many a woe beside;\r\nFor all the rulers of the neighbour isles,\r\nSamos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown\u2019d\r\nZacynthus, others also, rulers here\r\nIn craggy Ithaca, my mother seek\r\nIn marriage, and my household stores consume.\r\nBut neither she those nuptial rites abhorr\u2019d,\r\nRefuses absolute, nor yet consents\r\nTo end them; they my patrimony waste\r\nMeantime, and will not long spare even me.\r\nTo whom, with deep commiseration pang\u2019d,\r\nPallas replied. Alas! great need hast thou\r\nOf thy long absent father to avenge\r\nThese num\u2019rous wrongs; for could he now appear\r\nThere, at yon portal, arm\u2019d with helmet, shield,\r\nAnd grasping his two spears, such as when first\r\nI saw him drinking joyous at our board,\r\nFrom Ilus son of Mermeris, who dwelt\r\nIn distant Ephyre, just then return\u2019d,\r\n(For thither also had Ulysses gone\r\nIn his swift bark, seeking some pois\u2019nous drug\r\nWherewith to taint his brazen arrows keen,\r\nWhich drug through fear of the eternal Gods\r\nIlus refused him, and my father free\r\nGave to him, for he loved him past belief)\r\nCould now, Ulysses, clad in arms as then,\r\nMix with these suitors, short his date of life\r\nTo each, and bitter should his nuptials prove.\r\nBut these events, whether he shall return\r\nTo take just vengeance under his own roof,\r\nOr whether not, lie all in the Gods lap.\r\nMeantime I counsel thee, thyself to think\r\nBy what means likeliest thou shalt expel\r\nThese from thy doors. Now mark me: close attend.\r\nTo-morrow, summoning the Grecian Chiefs\r\nTo council, speak to them, and call the Gods\r\nTo witness that solemnity. Bid go\r\nThe suitors hence, each to his own abode.\r\nThy mother\u2014if her purpose be resolved\r\nOn marriage, let her to the house return\r\nOf her own potent father, who, himself,\r\nShall furnish forth her matrimonial rites,\r\nAnd ample dow\u2019r, such as it well becomes\r\nA darling daughter to receive, bestow.\r\nBut hear me now; thyself I thus advise.\r\nThe prime of all thy ships preparing, mann\u2019d\r\nWith twenty rowers, voyage hence to seek\r\nIntelligence of thy long-absent Sire.\r\nSome mortal may inform thee, or a word,[footnote]\u039f\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1\u2014a word spoken, with respect to the speaker, casually; but with reference to the inquirer supposed to be sent for his information by the especial appointment and providential favour of the Gods.[\/footnote]\r\nPerchance, by Jove directed (safest source\r\nOf notice to mankind) may reach thine ear.\r\nFirst voyaging to Pylus, there enquire\r\nOf noble Nestor; thence to Sparta tend,\r\nTo question Menelaus amber-hair\u2019d,\r\nLatest arrived of all the host of Greece.\r\nThere should\u2019st thou learn that still thy father lives,\r\nAnd hope of his return, although\r\nDistress\u2019d, thou wilt be patient yet a year.\r\nBut should\u2019st thou there hear tidings that he breathes\r\nNo longer, to thy native isle return\u2019d,\r\nFirst heap his tomb; then with such pomp perform\r\nHis funeral rites as his great name demands,\r\nAnd make thy mother\u2019s spousals, next, thy care.\r\nThese duties satisfied, delib\u2019rate last\r\nWhether thou shalt these troublers of thy house\r\nBy stratagem, or by assault, destroy.\r\nFor thou art now no child, nor longer may\u2019st\r\nSport like one. Hast thou not the proud report\r\nHeard, how Orestes hath renown acquired\r\nWith all mankind, his father\u2019s murtherer\r\n\u00c6gisthus slaying, the deceiver base\r\nWho slaughter\u2019d Agamemnon? Oh my friend!\r\n(For with delight thy vig\u2019rous growth I view,\r\nAnd just proportion) be thou also bold,\r\nAnd merit praise from ages yet to come.\r\nBut I will to my vessel now repair,\r\nAnd to my mariners, whom, absent long,\r\nI may perchance have troubled. Weigh thou well\r\nMy counsel; let not my advice be lost.\r\nTo whom Telemachus discrete replied.\r\nStranger! thy words bespeak thee much my friend,\r\nWho, as a father teaches his own son,\r\nHast taught me, and I never will forget.\r\nBut, though in haste thy voyage to pursue,\r\nYet stay, that in the bath refreshing first\r\nThy limbs now weary, thou may\u2019st sprightlier seek\r\nThy gallant bark, charged with some noble gift\r\nOf finish\u2019d workmanship, which thou shalt keep\r\nAs my memorial ever; such a boon\r\nAs men confer on guests whom much they love.\r\nThen Pallas thus, Goddess c\u00e6rulean-eyed.\r\nRetard me not, for go I must; the gift\r\nWhich liberal thou desirest to bestow,\r\nGive me at my return, that I may bear\r\nThe treasure home; and, in exchange, thyself\r\nExpect some gift equivalent from me.\r\nShe spake, and as with eagle-wings upborne,\r\nVanish\u2019d incontinent, but him inspired\r\nWith daring fortitude, and on his heart\r\nDearer remembrance of his Sire impress\u2019d\r\nThan ever. Conscious of the wond\u2019rous change,\r\nAmazed he stood, and, in his secret thought\r\nRevolving all, believed his guest a God.\r\nThe youthful Hero to the suitors then\r\nRepair\u2019d; they silent, listen\u2019d to the song\r\nOf the illustrious Bard: he the return\r\nDeplorable of the Achaian host\r\nFrom Ilium by command of Pallas, sang.\r\nPenelope, Icarius\u2019 daughter, mark\u2019d\r\nMeantime the song celestial, where she sat\r\nIn the superior palace; down she came,\r\nBy all the num\u2019rous steps of her abode;\r\nNot sole, for two fair handmaids follow\u2019d her.\r\nShe then, divinest of her sex, arrived\r\nIn presence of that lawless throng, beneath\r\nThe portal of her stately mansion stood,\r\nBetween her maidens, with her lucid veil\r\nHer lovely features mantling. There, profuse\r\nShe wept, and thus the sacred bard bespake.\r\nPhemius! for many a sorrow-soothing strain\r\nThou know\u2019st beside, such as exploits record\r\nOf Gods and men, the poet\u2019s frequent theme;\r\nGive them of those a song, and let themselves\r\nTheir wine drink noiseless; but this mournful strain\r\nBreak off, unfriendly to my bosom\u2019s peace,\r\nAnd which of all hearts nearest touches mine,\r\nWith such regret my dearest Lord I mourn,\r\nRememb\u2019ring still an husband praised from side\r\nTo side, and in the very heart of Greece.\r\nThen answer thus Telemachus return\u2019d.\r\nMy mother! wherefore should it give thee pain\r\nIf the delightful bard that theme pursue\r\nTo which he feels his mind impell\u2019d? the bard\r\nBlame not, but rather Jove, who, as he wills,\r\nMaterials for poetic art supplies.\r\nNo fault is his, if the disastrous fate\r\nHe sing of the Achaians, for the song\r\nWins ever from the hearers most applause\r\nThat has been least in use. Of all who fought\r\nAt Troy, Ulysses hath not lost, alone,\r\nHis day of glad return; but many a Chief\r\nHath perish\u2019d also. Seek thou then again\r\nThy own apartment, spindle ply and loom,\r\nAnd task thy maidens; management belongs\r\nTo men of joys convivial, and of men\r\nEspecially to me, chief ruler here.\r\nShe heard astonish\u2019d; and the prudent speech\r\nReposing of her son deep in her heart,\r\nAgain with her attendant maidens sought\r\nHer upper chamber. There arrived, she wept\r\nHer lost Ulysses, till Minerva bathed\r\nHer weary lids in dewy sleep profound.\r\nThen echoed through the palace dark-bedimm\u2019d\r\nWith evening shades the suitors boist\u2019rous roar,\r\nFor each the royal bed burn\u2019d to partake,\r\nWhom thus Telemachus discrete address\u2019d.\r\nAll ye my mother\u2019s suitors, though addict\r\nTo contumacious wrangling fierce, suspend\r\nYour clamour, for a course to me it seems\r\nMore decent far, when such a bard as this,\r\nGodlike, for sweetness, sings, to hear his song.\r\nTo-morrow meet we in full council all,\r\nThat I may plainly warn you to depart\r\nFrom this our mansion. Seek ye where ye may\r\nYour feasts; consume your own; alternate feed\r\nEach at the other\u2019s cost; but if it seem\r\nWisest in your account and best, to eat\r\nVoracious thus the patrimonial goods\r\nOf one man, rend\u2019ring no account of all,[footnote]There is in the Original an evident stress laid on the word \u039d\u03ae\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9, which is used in both places. It was a sort of Lex Talionis which Telemachus hoped might be put in force against them; and that Jove would demand no satisfaction for the lives of those who made him none for the waste of his property.[\/footnote]\r\nBite to the roots; but know that I will cry\r\nCeaseless to the eternal Gods, in hope\r\nThat Jove, for retribution of the wrong,\r\nShall doom you, where ye have intruded, there\r\nTo bleed, and of your blood ask no account.[footnote]See above.[\/footnote]\r\nHe ended, and each gnaw\u2019d his lip, aghast\r\nAt his undaunted hardiness of speech.\r\nThen thus Antino\u00fcs spake, Eupithes\u2019 son.\r\nTelemachus! the Gods, methinks, themselves\r\nTeach thee sublimity, and to pronounce\r\nThy matter fearless. Ah forbid it, Jove!\r\nThat one so eloquent should with the weight\r\nOf kingly cares in Ithaca be charged,\r\nA realm, by claim hereditary, thine.\r\nThen prudent thus Telemachus replied.\r\nAlthough my speech Antino\u00fcs may, perchance,\r\nProvoke thee, know that I am not averse\r\nFrom kingly cares, if Jove appoint me such.\r\nSeems it to thee a burthen to be fear\u2019d\r\nBy men above all others? trust me, no,\r\nThere is no ill in royalty; the man\r\nSo station\u2019d, waits not long ere he obtain\r\nRiches and honour. But I grant that Kings\r\nOf the Achaians may no few be found\r\nIn sea-girt Ithaca both young and old,\r\nOf whom since great Ulysses is no more,\r\nReign whoso may; but King, myself, I am\r\nIn my own house, and over all my own\r\nDomestics, by Ulysses gained for me.\r\nTo whom Eurymachus replied, the son\r\nOf Polybus. What Grecian Chief shall reign\r\nIn sea-girt Ithaca, must be referr\u2019d\r\nTo the Gods\u2019 will, Telemachus! meantime\r\nThou hast unquestionable right to keep\r\nThy own, and to command in thy own house.\r\nMay never that man on her shores arrive,\r\nWhile an inhabitant shall yet be left\r\nIn Ithaca, who shall by violence wrest\r\nThine from thee. But permit me, noble Sir!\r\nTo ask thee of thy guest. Whence came the man?\r\nWhat country claims him? Where are to be found\r\nHis kindred and his patrimonial fields?\r\nBrings he glad tidings of thy Sire\u2019s approach\r\nHomeward? or came he to receive a debt\r\nDue to himself? How swift he disappear\u2019d!\r\nNor opportunity to know him gave\r\nTo those who wish\u2019d it; for his face and air\r\nHim speak not of Plebeian birth obscure.\r\nWhom answered thus Telemachus discrete.\r\nEurymachus! my father comes no more.\r\nI can no longer now tidings believe,\r\nIf such arrive; nor he\u2019d I more the song\r\nOf sooth-sayers whom my mother may consult.\r\nBut this my guest hath known in other days\r\nMy father, and he came from Taphos, son\r\nOf brave Anchialus, Mentes by name,\r\nAnd Chief of the sea-practis\u2019d Taphian race.\r\nSo spake Telemachus, but in his heart\r\nKnew well his guest a Goddess from the skies.\r\nThen they to dance and heart-enlivening song\r\nTurn\u2019d joyous, waiting the approach of eve,\r\nAnd dusky evening found them joyous still.\r\nThen each, to his own house retiring, sought\r\nNeedful repose. Meantime Telemachus\r\nTo his own lofty chamber, built in view\r\nOf the wide hall, retired; but with a heart\r\nIn various musings occupied intense.\r\nSage Euryclea, bearing in each hand\r\nA torch, preceded him; her sire was Ops,\r\nPisenor\u2019s son, and, in her early prime,\r\nAt his own cost Laertes made her his,\r\nPaying with twenty beeves her purchase-price,\r\nNor in less honour than his spotless wife\r\nHe held her ever, but his consort\u2019s wrath\r\nFearing, at no time call\u2019d her to his bed.\r\nShe bore the torches, and with truer heart\r\nLoved him than any of the female train,\r\nFor she had nurs\u2019d him in his infant years.\r\nHe open\u2019d his broad chamber-valves, and sat\r\nOn his couch-side: then putting off his vest\r\nOf softest texture, placed it in the hands\r\nOf the attendant dame discrete, who first\r\nFolding it with exactest care, beside\r\nHis bed suspended it, and, going forth,\r\nDrew by its silver ring the portal close,\r\nAnd fasten\u2019d it with bolt and brace secure.\r\nThere lay Telemachus, on finest wool\r\nReposed, contemplating all night his course\r\nPrescribed by Pallas to the Pylian shore.\r\n\r\n ","rendered":"

Argument<\/b><\/h2>\n

In a council of the Gods, Minerva calls their attention to Ulysses, still a wanderer. They resolve to grant him a safe return to Ithaca. Minerva descends to encourage Telemachus, and in the form of Mentes directs him in what manner to proceed. Throughout this book the extravagance and profligacy of the suitors are occasionally suggested.<\/p>\n

Muse make the man thy theme, for shrewdness famed
\nAnd genius versatile, who far and wide
\nA Wand\u2019rer, after Ilium overthrown,
\nDiscover\u2019d various cities, and the mind
\nAnd manners learn\u2019d of men, in lands remote.
\nHe num\u2019rous woes on Ocean toss\u2019d, endured,
\nAnxious to save himself, and to conduct
\nHis followers to their home; yet all his care
\nPreserved them not; they perish\u2019d self-destroy\u2019d
\nBy their own fault; infatuate! who devoured
\nThe oxen of the all-o\u2019erseeing Sun,
\nAnd, punish\u2019d for that crime, return\u2019d no more.
\nDaughter divine of Jove, these things record,
\nAs it may please thee, even in our ears.
\nThe rest, all those who had perdition \u2019scaped
\nBy war or on the Deep, dwelt now at home;
\nHim only, of his country and his wife
\nAlike desirous, in her hollow grots
\nCalypso, Goddess beautiful, detained
\nWooing him to her arms. But when, at length,
\n(Many a long year elapsed) the year arrived
\nOf his return (by the decree of heav\u2019n)
\nTo Ithaca, not even then had he,
\nAlthough surrounded by his people, reach\u2019d
\nThe period of his suff\u2019rings and his toils.
\nYet all the Gods, with pity moved, beheld
\nHis woes, save Neptune; He alone with wrath
\nUnceasing and implacable pursued
\nGodlike Ulysses to his native shores.
\nBut Neptune, now, the \u00c6thiopians fought,
\n(The \u00c6thiopians, utmost of mankind,
\nThese Eastward situate, those toward the West)
\nCall\u2019d to an hecatomb of bulls and lambs.
\nThere sitting, pleas\u2019d he banqueted; the Gods
\nIn Jove\u2019s abode, meantime, assembled all,
\n\u2019Midst whom the Sire of heav\u2019n and earth began.
\nFor he recall\u2019d to mind \u00c6gisthus slain
\nBy Agamemnon\u2019s celebrated son
\nOrestes, and retracing in his thought
\nThat dread event, the Immortals thus address\u2019d.
\nAlas! how prone are human-kind to blame
\nThe Pow\u2019rs of Heav\u2019n! From us, they say, proceed
\nThe ills which they endure, yet more than Fate
\nHerself inflicts, by their own crimes incur.
\nSo now \u00c6gisthus, by no force constrained
\nOf Destiny, Atrides\u2019 wedded wife
\nTook to himself, and him at his return
\nSlew, not unwarn\u2019d of his own dreadful end
\nBy us: for we commanded Hermes down
\nThe watchful Argicide, who bade him fear
\nAlike, to slay the King, or woo the Queen.
\nFor that Atrides\u2019 son Orestes, soon
\nAs grown mature, and eager to assume
\nHis sway imperial, should avenge the deed.
\nSo Hermes spake, but his advice moved not
\n\u00c6gisthus, on whose head the whole arrear
\nOf vengeance heap\u2019d, at last, hath therefore fall\u2019n.
\nWhom answer\u2019d then Pallas c\u00e6rulean-eyed.
\nOh Jove, Saturnian Sire, o\u2019er all supreme!
\nAnd well he merited the death he found;
\nSo perish all, who shall, like him, offend.
\nBut with a bosom anguish-rent I view
\nUlysses, hapless Chief! who from his friends
\nRemote, affliction hath long time endured
\nIn yonder wood-land isle, the central boss
\nOf Ocean. That retreat a Goddess holds,
\nDaughter of sapient Atlas, who the abyss
\nKnows to its bottom, and the pillars high
\nHimself upbears which sep\u2019rate earth from heav\u2019n.
\nHis daughter, there, the sorrowing Chief detains,
\nAnd ever with smooth speech insidious seeks
\nTo wean his heart from Ithaca; meantime
\nUlysses, happy might he but behold
\nThe smoke ascending from his native land,
\nDeath covets. Canst thou not, Olympian Jove!
\nAt last relent? Hath not Ulysses oft
\nWith victims slain amid Achaia\u2019s fleet
\nThee gratified, while yet at Troy he fought?
\nHow hath he then so deep incensed thee, Jove?
\nTo whom, the cloud-assembler God replied.
\nWhat word hath pass\u2019d thy lips, Daughter belov\u2019d?
\nCan I forget Ulysses? Him forget
\nSo noble, who in wisdom all mankind
\nExcels, and who hath sacrific\u2019d so oft
\nTo us whose dwelling is the boundless heav\u2019n?
\nEarth-circling Neptune\u2014He it is whose wrath
\nPursues him ceaseless for the Cyclops\u2019 sake
\nPolypheme, strongest of the giant race,
\nWhom of his eye Ulysses hath deprived.
\nFor Him, Tho\u00f6sa bore, Nymph of the sea
\nFrom Phorcys sprung, by Ocean\u2019s mighty pow\u2019r
\nImpregnated in caverns of the Deep.
\nE\u2019er since that day, the Shaker of the shores,
\nAlthough he slay him not, yet devious drives
\nUlysses from his native isle afar.
\nYet come\u2014in full assembly his return
\nContrive we now, both means and prosp\u2019rous end;
\nSo Neptune shall his wrath remit, whose pow\u2019r
\nIn contest with the force of all the Gods
\nExerted single, can but strive in vain.
\nTo whom Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed.
\nOh Jupiter! above all Kings enthroned!
\nIf the Immortals ever-blest ordain
\nThat wise Ulysses to his home return,
\nDispatch we then Hermes the Argicide,
\nOur messenger, hence to Ogygia\u2019s isle,
\nWho shall inform Calypso, nymph divine,
\nOf this our fixt resolve, that to his home
\nUlysses, toil-enduring Chief, repair.
\nMyself will hence to Ithaca, meantime,
\nHis son to animate, and with new force
\nInspire, that (the Achaians all convened
\nIn council,) he may, instant, bid depart
\nThe suitors from his home, who, day by day,
\nHis num\u2019rous flocks and fatted herds consume.
\nAnd I will send him thence to Sparta forth,
\nAnd into sandy Pylus, there to hear
\n(If hear he may) some tidings of his Sire,
\nAnd to procure himself a glorious name.
\nThis said, her golden sandals to her feet
\nShe bound, ambrosial, which o\u2019er all the earth
\nAnd o\u2019er the moist flood waft her fleet as air,
\nThen, seizing her strong spear pointed with brass,
\nIn length and bulk, and weight a matchless beam,
\nWith which the Jove-born Goddess levels ranks
\nOf Heroes, against whom her anger burns,
\nFrom the Olympian summit down she flew,
\nAnd on the threshold of Ulysses\u2019 hall
\nIn Ithaca, and within his vestibule
\nApparent stood; there, grasping her bright spear,
\nMentes[1]<\/sup><\/a> she seem\u2019d, the hospitable Chief
\nOf Taphos\u2019 isle\u2014she found the haughty throng
\nThe suitors; they before the palace gate
\nWith iv\u2019ry cubes sported, on num\u2019rous hides
\nReclined of oxen which themselves had slain.
\nThe heralds and the busy menials there
\nMinister\u2019d to them; these their mantling cups
\nWith water slaked; with bibulous sponges those
\nMade clean the tables, set the banquet on,
\nAnd portioned out to each his plenteous share.
\nLong ere the rest Telemachus himself
\nMark\u2019d her, for sad amid them all he sat,
\nPourtraying in deep thought contemplative
\nHis noble Sire, and questioning if yet
\nPerchance the Hero might return to chase
\nFrom all his palace that imperious herd,
\nTo his own honour lord of his own home.
\nAmid them musing thus, sudden he saw
\nThe Goddess, and sprang forth, for he abhorr\u2019d
\nTo see a guest\u2019s admittance long delay\u2019d;
\nApproaching eager, her right hand he seized,
\nThe brazen spear took from her, and in words
\nWith welcome wing\u2019d Minerva thus address\u2019d.
\nStranger, all hail! to share our cordial love
\nThou com\u2019st; the banquet finish\u2019d, thou shalt next
\nInform me wherefore thou hast here arrived.
\nSo saying, toward the spacious hall he moved,
\nFollow\u2019d by Pallas, and, arriving soon
\nBeneath the lofty roof, placed her bright spear
\nWithin a pillar\u2019s cavity, long time
\nThe armoury where many a spear had stood,
\nBright weapons of his own illustrious Sire.
\nThen, leading her toward a footstool\u2019d throne
\nMagnificent, which first he overspread
\nWith linen, there he seated her, apart
\nFrom that rude throng, and for himself disposed
\nA throne of various colours at her side,
\nLest, stunn\u2019d with clamour of the lawless band,
\nThe new-arrived should loth perchance to eat,
\nAnd that more free he might the stranger\u2019s ear
\nWith questions of his absent Sire address,
\nAnd now a maiden charg\u2019d with golden ew\u2019r,
\nAnd with an argent laver, pouring first
\nPure water on their hands, supplied them, next,
\nWith a resplendent table, which the chaste
\nDirectress of the stores furnish\u2019d with bread
\nAnd dainties, remnants of the last regale.
\nThen, in his turn, the sewer[2]<\/sup><\/a> <\/sup>with sav\u2019ry meats,
\nDish after dish, served them, of various kinds,
\nAnd golden cups beside the chargers placed,
\nWhich the attendant herald fill\u2019d with wine.
\nEre long, in rush\u2019d the suitors, and the thrones
\nAnd couches occupied, on all whose hands
\nThe heralds pour\u2019d pure water; then the maids
\nAttended them with bread in baskets heap\u2019d,
\nAnd eager they assail\u2019d the ready feast.
\nAt length, when neither thirst nor hunger more
\nThey felt unsatisfied, to new delights
\nTheir thoughts they turn\u2019d, to song and sprightly dance,
\nEnlivening sequel of the banquet\u2019s joys.
\nAn herald, then, to Phemius\u2019 hand consign\u2019d
\nHis beauteous lyre; he through constraint regaled
\nThe suitors with his song, and while the chords
\nHe struck in prelude to his pleasant strains,
\nTelemachus his head inclining nigh
\nTo Pallas\u2019 ear, lest others should his words
\nWitness, the blue-eyed Goddess thus bespake.
\nMy inmate and my friend! far from my lips
\nBe ev\u2019ry word that might displease thine ear!
\nThe song\u2014the harp,\u2014what can they less than charm
\nThese wantons? who the bread unpurchased eat
\nOf one whose bones on yonder continent
\nLie mould\u2019ring, drench\u2019d by all the show\u2019rs of heaven,
\nOr roll at random in the billowy deep.
\nAh! could they see him once to his own isle
\nRestored, both gold and raiment they would wish
\nFar less, and nimbleness of foot instead.
\nBut He, alas! hath by a wretched fate,
\nPast question perish\u2019d, and what news soe\u2019er
\nWe hear of his return, kindles no hope
\nIn us, convinced that he returns no more.
\nBut answer undissembling; tell me true;
\nWho art thou? whence? where stands thy city? where
\nThy father\u2019s mansion? In what kind of ship
\nCam\u2019st thou? Why steer\u2019d the mariners their course
\nTo Ithaca, and of what land are they?
\nFor that on foot thou found\u2019st us not, is sure.
\nThis also tell me, hast thou now arrived
\nNew to our isle, or wast thou heretofore
\nMy father\u2019s guest? Since many to our house
\nResorted in those happier days, for he
\nDrew pow\u2019rful to himself the hearts of all.
\nThen Pallas thus, Goddess c\u00e6rulean-eyed.
\nI will with all simplicity of truth
\nThy questions satisfy. Behold in me
\nMentes, the offspring of a Chief renown\u2019d
\nIn war, Anchialus; and I rule, myself,
\nAn island race, the Taphians oar-expert.
\nWith ship and mariners I now arrive,
\nSeeking a people of another tongue
\nAthwart the gloomy flood, in quest of brass
\nFor which I barter steel, ploughing the waves
\nTo Temesa. My ship beneath the woods
\nOf Ne\u00efus, at yonder field that skirts
\nYour city, in the haven Rhethrus rides.
\nWe are hereditary guests; our Sires
\nWere friends long since; as, when thou seest him next,
\nThe Hero old Laertes will avouch,
\nOf whom, I learn, that he frequents no more
\nThe city now, but in sequester\u2019d scenes
\nDwells sorrowful, and by an antient dame
\nWith food and drink supplied oft as he feels
\nRefreshment needful to him, while he creeps
\nBetween the rows of his luxuriant vines.
\nBut I have come drawn hither by report,
\nWhich spake thy Sire arrived, though still it seems
\nThe adverse Gods his homeward course retard.
\nFor not yet breathless lies the noble Chief,
\nBut in some island of the boundless flood
\nResides a prisoner, by barbarous force
\nOf some rude race detained reluctant there.
\nAnd I will now foreshow thee what the Gods
\nTeach me, and what, though neither augur skill\u2019d
\nNor prophet, I yet trust shall come to pass.
\nHe shall not, henceforth, live an exile long
\nFrom his own shores, no, not although in bands
\nOf iron held, but will ere long contrive
\nHis own return; for in expedients, framed
\nWith wond\u2019rous ingenuity, he abounds.
\nBut tell me true; art thou, in stature such,
\nSon of himself Ulysses? for thy face
\nAnd eyes bright-sparkling, strongly indicate
\nUlysses in thee. Frequent have we both
\nConversed together thus, thy Sire and I,
\nEre yet he went to Troy, the mark to which
\nSo many Princes of Achaia steer\u2019d.
\nHim since I saw not, nor Ulysses me.
\nTo whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
\nStranger! I tell thee true; my mother\u2019s voice
\nAffirms me his, but since no mortal knows
\nHis derivation, I affirm it not.
\nWould I had been son of some happier Sire,
\nOrdain\u2019d in calm possession of his own
\nTo reach the verge of life. But now, report
\nProclaims me his, whom I of all mankind
\nUnhappiest deem.\u2014Thy question is resolved.
\nThen answer thus Pallas blue-eyed return\u2019d.
\nFrom no ignoble race, in future days,
\nThe Gods shall prove thee sprung, whom so endow\u2019d
\nWith ev\u2019ry grace Penelope hath borne.
\nBut tell me true. What festival is this?
\nThis throng\u2014whence are they? wherefore hast thou need
\nOf such a multitude? Behold I here
\nA banquet, or a nuptial? for these
\nMeet not by contribution[3]<\/sup><\/a> to regale,
\nWith such brutality and din they hold
\nTheir riotous banquet! a wise man and good
\nArriving, now, among them, at the sight
\nOf such enormities would much be wroth.
\nTo whom replied Telemachus discrete.
\nSince, stranger! thou hast ask\u2019d, learn also this.
\nWhile yet Ulysses, with his people dwelt,
\nHis presence warranted the hope that here
\nVirtue should dwell and opulence; but heav\u2019n
\nHath cast for us, at length, a diff\u2019rent lot,
\nAnd he is lost, as never man before.
\nFor I should less lament even his death,
\nHad he among his friends at Ilium fall\u2019n,
\nOr in the arms of his companions died,
\nTroy\u2019s siege accomplish\u2019d. Then his tomb the Greeks
\nOf ev\u2019ry tribe had built, and for his son,
\nHe had immortal glory atchieved; but now,
\nBy harpies torn inglorious, beyond reach
\nOf eye or ear he lies; and hath to me
\nGrief only, and unceasing sighs bequeath\u2019d.
\nNor mourn I for his sake alone; the Gods
\nHave plann\u2019d for me still many a woe beside;
\nFor all the rulers of the neighbour isles,
\nSamos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown\u2019d
\nZacynthus, others also, rulers here
\nIn craggy Ithaca, my mother seek
\nIn marriage, and my household stores consume.
\nBut neither she those nuptial rites abhorr\u2019d,
\nRefuses absolute, nor yet consents
\nTo end them; they my patrimony waste
\nMeantime, and will not long spare even me.
\nTo whom, with deep commiseration pang\u2019d,
\nPallas replied. Alas! great need hast thou
\nOf thy long absent father to avenge
\nThese num\u2019rous wrongs; for could he now appear
\nThere, at yon portal, arm\u2019d with helmet, shield,
\nAnd grasping his two spears, such as when first
\nI saw him drinking joyous at our board,
\nFrom Ilus son of Mermeris, who dwelt
\nIn distant Ephyre, just then return\u2019d,
\n(For thither also had Ulysses gone
\nIn his swift bark, seeking some pois\u2019nous drug
\nWherewith to taint his brazen arrows keen,
\nWhich drug through fear of the eternal Gods
\nIlus refused him, and my father free
\nGave to him, for he loved him past belief)
\nCould now, Ulysses, clad in arms as then,
\nMix with these suitors, short his date of life
\nTo each, and bitter should his nuptials prove.
\nBut these events, whether he shall return
\nTo take just vengeance under his own roof,
\nOr whether not, lie all in the Gods lap.
\nMeantime I counsel thee, thyself to think
\nBy what means likeliest thou shalt expel
\nThese from thy doors. Now mark me: close attend.
\nTo-morrow, summoning the Grecian Chiefs
\nTo council, speak to them, and call the Gods
\nTo witness that solemnity. Bid go
\nThe suitors hence, each to his own abode.
\nThy mother\u2014if her purpose be resolved
\nOn marriage, let her to the house return
\nOf her own potent father, who, himself,
\nShall furnish forth her matrimonial rites,
\nAnd ample dow\u2019r, such as it well becomes
\nA darling daughter to receive, bestow.
\nBut hear me now; thyself I thus advise.
\nThe prime of all thy ships preparing, mann\u2019d
\nWith twenty rowers, voyage hence to seek
\nIntelligence of thy long-absent Sire.
\nSome mortal may inform thee, or a word,[4]<\/sup><\/a>
\nPerchance, by Jove directed (safest source
\nOf notice to mankind) may reach thine ear.
\nFirst voyaging to Pylus, there enquire
\nOf noble Nestor; thence to Sparta tend,
\nTo question Menelaus amber-hair\u2019d,
\nLatest arrived of all the host of Greece.
\nThere should\u2019st thou learn that still thy father lives,
\nAnd hope of his return, although
\nDistress\u2019d, thou wilt be patient yet a year.
\nBut should\u2019st thou there hear tidings that he breathes
\nNo longer, to thy native isle return\u2019d,
\nFirst heap his tomb; then with such pomp perform
\nHis funeral rites as his great name demands,
\nAnd make thy mother\u2019s spousals, next, thy care.
\nThese duties satisfied, delib\u2019rate last
\nWhether thou shalt these troublers of thy house
\nBy stratagem, or by assault, destroy.
\nFor thou art now no child, nor longer may\u2019st
\nSport like one. Hast thou not the proud report
\nHeard, how Orestes hath renown acquired
\nWith all mankind, his father\u2019s murtherer
\n\u00c6gisthus slaying, the deceiver base
\nWho slaughter\u2019d Agamemnon? Oh my friend!
\n(For with delight thy vig\u2019rous growth I view,
\nAnd just proportion) be thou also bold,
\nAnd merit praise from ages yet to come.
\nBut I will to my vessel now repair,
\nAnd to my mariners, whom, absent long,
\nI may perchance have troubled. Weigh thou well
\nMy counsel; let not my advice be lost.
\nTo whom Telemachus discrete replied.
\nStranger! thy words bespeak thee much my friend,
\nWho, as a father teaches his own son,
\nHast taught me, and I never will forget.
\nBut, though in haste thy voyage to pursue,
\nYet stay, that in the bath refreshing first
\nThy limbs now weary, thou may\u2019st sprightlier seek
\nThy gallant bark, charged with some noble gift
\nOf finish\u2019d workmanship, which thou shalt keep
\nAs my memorial ever; such a boon
\nAs men confer on guests whom much they love.
\nThen Pallas thus, Goddess c\u00e6rulean-eyed.
\nRetard me not, for go I must; the gift
\nWhich liberal thou desirest to bestow,
\nGive me at my return, that I may bear
\nThe treasure home; and, in exchange, thyself
\nExpect some gift equivalent from me.
\nShe spake, and as with eagle-wings upborne,
\nVanish\u2019d incontinent, but him inspired
\nWith daring fortitude, and on his heart
\nDearer remembrance of his Sire impress\u2019d
\nThan ever. Conscious of the wond\u2019rous change,
\nAmazed he stood, and, in his secret thought
\nRevolving all, believed his guest a God.
\nThe youthful Hero to the suitors then
\nRepair\u2019d; they silent, listen\u2019d to the song
\nOf the illustrious Bard: he the return
\nDeplorable of the Achaian host
\nFrom Ilium by command of Pallas, sang.
\nPenelope, Icarius\u2019 daughter, mark\u2019d
\nMeantime the song celestial, where she sat
\nIn the superior palace; down she came,
\nBy all the num\u2019rous steps of her abode;
\nNot sole, for two fair handmaids follow\u2019d her.
\nShe then, divinest of her sex, arrived
\nIn presence of that lawless throng, beneath
\nThe portal of her stately mansion stood,
\nBetween her maidens, with her lucid veil
\nHer lovely features mantling. There, profuse
\nShe wept, and thus the sacred bard bespake.
\nPhemius! for many a sorrow-soothing strain
\nThou know\u2019st beside, such as exploits record
\nOf Gods and men, the poet\u2019s frequent theme;
\nGive them of those a song, and let themselves
\nTheir wine drink noiseless; but this mournful strain
\nBreak off, unfriendly to my bosom\u2019s peace,
\nAnd which of all hearts nearest touches mine,
\nWith such regret my dearest Lord I mourn,
\nRememb\u2019ring still an husband praised from side
\nTo side, and in the very heart of Greece.
\nThen answer thus Telemachus return\u2019d.
\nMy mother! wherefore should it give thee pain
\nIf the delightful bard that theme pursue
\nTo which he feels his mind impell\u2019d? the bard
\nBlame not, but rather Jove, who, as he wills,
\nMaterials for poetic art supplies.
\nNo fault is his, if the disastrous fate
\nHe sing of the Achaians, for the song
\nWins ever from the hearers most applause
\nThat has been least in use. Of all who fought
\nAt Troy, Ulysses hath not lost, alone,
\nHis day of glad return; but many a Chief
\nHath perish\u2019d also. Seek thou then again
\nThy own apartment, spindle ply and loom,
\nAnd task thy maidens; management belongs
\nTo men of joys convivial, and of men
\nEspecially to me, chief ruler here.
\nShe heard astonish\u2019d; and the prudent speech
\nReposing of her son deep in her heart,
\nAgain with her attendant maidens sought
\nHer upper chamber. There arrived, she wept
\nHer lost Ulysses, till Minerva bathed
\nHer weary lids in dewy sleep profound.
\nThen echoed through the palace dark-bedimm\u2019d
\nWith evening shades the suitors boist\u2019rous roar,
\nFor each the royal bed burn\u2019d to partake,
\nWhom thus Telemachus discrete address\u2019d.
\nAll ye my mother\u2019s suitors, though addict
\nTo contumacious wrangling fierce, suspend
\nYour clamour, for a course to me it seems
\nMore decent far, when such a bard as this,
\nGodlike, for sweetness, sings, to hear his song.
\nTo-morrow meet we in full council all,
\nThat I may plainly warn you to depart
\nFrom this our mansion. Seek ye where ye may
\nYour feasts; consume your own; alternate feed
\nEach at the other\u2019s cost; but if it seem
\nWisest in your account and best, to eat
\nVoracious thus the patrimonial goods
\nOf one man, rend\u2019ring no account of all,[5]<\/sup><\/a>
\nBite to the roots; but know that I will cry
\nCeaseless to the eternal Gods, in hope
\nThat Jove, for retribution of the wrong,
\nShall doom you, where ye have intruded, there
\nTo bleed, and of your blood ask no account.[6]<\/sup><\/a>
\nHe ended, and each gnaw\u2019d his lip, aghast
\nAt his undaunted hardiness of speech.
\nThen thus Antino\u00fcs spake, Eupithes\u2019 son.
\nTelemachus! the Gods, methinks, themselves
\nTeach thee sublimity, and to pronounce
\nThy matter fearless. Ah forbid it, Jove!
\nThat one so eloquent should with the weight
\nOf kingly cares in Ithaca be charged,
\nA realm, by claim hereditary, thine.
\nThen prudent thus Telemachus replied.
\nAlthough my speech Antino\u00fcs may, perchance,
\nProvoke thee, know that I am not averse
\nFrom kingly cares, if Jove appoint me such.
\nSeems it to thee a burthen to be fear\u2019d
\nBy men above all others? trust me, no,
\nThere is no ill in royalty; the man
\nSo station\u2019d, waits not long ere he obtain
\nRiches and honour. But I grant that Kings
\nOf the Achaians may no few be found
\nIn sea-girt Ithaca both young and old,
\nOf whom since great Ulysses is no more,
\nReign whoso may; but King, myself, I am
\nIn my own house, and over all my own
\nDomestics, by Ulysses gained for me.
\nTo whom Eurymachus replied, the son
\nOf Polybus. What Grecian Chief shall reign
\nIn sea-girt Ithaca, must be referr\u2019d
\nTo the Gods\u2019 will, Telemachus! meantime
\nThou hast unquestionable right to keep
\nThy own, and to command in thy own house.
\nMay never that man on her shores arrive,
\nWhile an inhabitant shall yet be left
\nIn Ithaca, who shall by violence wrest
\nThine from thee. But permit me, noble Sir!
\nTo ask thee of thy guest. Whence came the man?
\nWhat country claims him? Where are to be found
\nHis kindred and his patrimonial fields?
\nBrings he glad tidings of thy Sire\u2019s approach
\nHomeward? or came he to receive a debt
\nDue to himself? How swift he disappear\u2019d!
\nNor opportunity to know him gave
\nTo those who wish\u2019d it; for his face and air
\nHim speak not of Plebeian birth obscure.
\nWhom answered thus Telemachus discrete.
\nEurymachus! my father comes no more.
\nI can no longer now tidings believe,
\nIf such arrive; nor he\u2019d I more the song
\nOf sooth-sayers whom my mother may consult.
\nBut this my guest hath known in other days
\nMy father, and he came from Taphos, son
\nOf brave Anchialus, Mentes by name,
\nAnd Chief of the sea-practis\u2019d Taphian race.
\nSo spake Telemachus, but in his heart
\nKnew well his guest a Goddess from the skies.
\nThen they to dance and heart-enlivening song
\nTurn\u2019d joyous, waiting the approach of eve,
\nAnd dusky evening found them joyous still.
\nThen each, to his own house retiring, sought
\nNeedful repose. Meantime Telemachus
\nTo his own lofty chamber, built in view
\nOf the wide hall, retired; but with a heart
\nIn various musings occupied intense.
\nSage Euryclea, bearing in each hand
\nA torch, preceded him; her sire was Ops,
\nPisenor\u2019s son, and, in her early prime,
\nAt his own cost Laertes made her his,
\nPaying with twenty beeves her purchase-price,
\nNor in less honour than his spotless wife
\nHe held her ever, but his consort\u2019s wrath
\nFearing, at no time call\u2019d her to his bed.
\nShe bore the torches, and with truer heart
\nLoved him than any of the female train,
\nFor she had nurs\u2019d him in his infant years.
\nHe open\u2019d his broad chamber-valves, and sat
\nOn his couch-side: then putting off his vest
\nOf softest texture, placed it in the hands
\nOf the attendant dame discrete, who first
\nFolding it with exactest care, beside
\nHis bed suspended it, and, going forth,
\nDrew by its silver ring the portal close,
\nAnd fasten\u2019d it with bolt and brace secure.
\nThere lay Telemachus, on finest wool
\nReposed, contemplating all night his course
\nPrescribed by Pallas to the Pylian shore.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

  1. We are told that Homer was under obligations to Mentes, who had frequently given him a passage in his ship to different countries which he wished to see, for which reason he has here immortalised him. ↵<\/a><\/li>
  2. Milton uses the word\u2014Sewers and seneschals. ↵<\/a><\/li>
  3. \u1f1c\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, a convivial meeting, at which every man paid his proportion, at least contributed something; but it seems to have been a meeting at which strict sobriety was observed, else Pallas would not have inferred from the noise and riot of this, that it was not such a one. ↵<\/a><\/li>
  4. \u039f\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1\u2014a word spoken, with respect to the speaker, casually; but with reference to the inquirer supposed to be sent for his information by the especial appointment and providential favour of the Gods. ↵<\/a><\/li>
  5. There is in the Original an evident stress laid on the word \u039d\u03ae\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9, which is used in both places. It was a sort of Lex Talionis which Telemachus hoped might be put in force against them; and that Jove would demand no satisfaction for the lives of those who made him none for the waste of his property. ↵<\/a><\/li>
  6. See above. ↵<\/a><\/li><\/ol><\/div>","protected":false},"author":299,"menu_order":1,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-96","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/96","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/299"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/96\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":240,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/96\/revisions\/240"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/96\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=96"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=96"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=96"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/odyssey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=96"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}