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- Herausgeber: DigiCat
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
Homer's 'The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems' is an epic poem that follows the journey of the hero Odysseus as he tries to make his way back home after the Trojan War. Written in a poetic and descriptive style, the book is filled with symbolism and explores themes of bravery, perseverance, and the power of the gods. The inclusion of shorter poems within the collection adds depth and variety to the overall narrative, showcasing Homer's versatility as a writer. The epic is a cornerstone of Western literature and continues to be studied and revered for its timeless themes and engaging storytelling. It is a must-read for those interested in ancient literature and epic poetry.
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The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems
Table of Contents
THE ODYSSEYS
THE BATRACHOMYOMACHIA
HYMNS— To Apollo To Hermes To Venus (First Hymn) To Venus (Second Hymn) Bacchus, or the Pirates To Mars To Diana To Venus (Third Hymn) To Pallas To Juno To Ceres To Cybele To Hercules To Æsculapius To Castor and Pollux To Mercury To Pan To Vulcan To Phœbus To Neptune To Jove To Vesta To the Muses and Apollo To Bacchus To Diana To Pallas To Vesta and Mercury To Earth To the Sun To the Moon To Castor and Pollux To Men of Hospitality
EPIGRAMS AND OTHER POEMS— To Cuma In his Return to Cuma Upon the Sepulchre of Midus Cuma, refusing to eternize their State, etc. An Essay of his begun Iliads To Thestor’s Son inquisitive about the Causes of Things To Neptune To the City of Erythræa To Mariners The Pine To Glaucus Against the Samian Ministress or Nun Written on the Council Chamber The Furnace called in to sing by Potters Eiresione, or the Olive Branch To certain Fisher-Boys pleasing him with Riddles The Translator’s Epilogue
THE FIRST BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS
THE ARGUMENT
The Gods in council sit, to call Ulysses from Calypso’s thrall, And order their high pleasures thus: Grey Pallas to Telemachus (In Ithaca) her way addrest; And did her heav’nly limbs invest In Mentas’ likeness, that did reign King of the Taphians, in the main Whose rough waves near Leucadia run. Advising wise Ulysses’ son To seek his father, and address His course to young Tantalides, That govern’d Sparta. Thus much said, She shew’d she was Heav’n’s martial Maid, And vanish’d from him. Next to this, The Banquet of the Wooers is.
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Ἂλφα. The Deities sit; The Man retired; Th’ Ulyssean wit By Pallas fired.
The man, O Muse, inform, that many a way [1] Wound with his wisdom to his wished stay; That wander’d wondrous far, when he the town Of sacred Troy had sack’d and shiver’d down; The cities of a world of nations, With all their manners, minds, and fashions, He saw and knew; at sea felt many woes, Much care sustain’d, to save from overthrows Himself and friends in their retreat for home; But so their fates he could not overcome, Though much he thirsted it. O men unwise, They perish’d by their own impieties! That in their hunger’s rapine would not shun The oxen of the lofty-going Sun, Who therefore from their eyes the day bereft Of safe return. These acts, in some part left, Tell us, as others, deified Seed of Jove. Now all the rest that austere death outstrove At Troy’s long siege at home safe anchor’d are, Free from the malice both of sea and war; Only Ulysses is denied access To wife and home. The grace of Goddesses, The rev’rend nymph Calypso, did detain Him in her caves, past all the race of men Enflam’d to make him her lov’d lord and spouse. And when the Gods had destin’d that his house, Which Ithaca on her rough bosom bears, (The point of time wrought out by ambient years) Should be his haven, Contention still extends Her envy to him, ev’n amongst his friends. All Gods took pity on him; only he, That girds earth in the cincture of the sea, Divine Ulysses ever did envy, And made the fix’d port of his birth to fly. But he himself solemniz’d a retreat To th’ Æthiops, far dissunder’d in their seat, (In two parts parted, at the sun’s descent, And underneath his golden orient, The first and last of men) t’ enjoy their feast Of bulls and lambs, in hecatombs addrest; [2] At which he sat, giv’n over to delight. The other Gods in heav’n’s supremest height Were all in council met; to whom began The mighty Father both of God and man Discourse, inducing matter that inclin’d To wise Ulysses, calling to his mind Faultful Ægisthus, who to death was done [3] By young Orestes, Agamemnon’s son. His memory to the Immortals then Mov’d Jove thus deeply: “O how falsely men Accuse us Gods as authors of their ill! When, by the bane their own bad lives instill, They suffer all the mis’ries of their states, Past our inflictions, and beyond their fates. As now Ægisthus, past his fate, did wed The wife of Agamemnon, and (in dread To suffer death himself) to shun his ill, Incurr’d it by the loose bent of his will, In slaughtering Atrides in retreat. Which we foretold him would so hardly set To his murd’rous purpose, sending Mercury That slaughter’d Argus, our consid’rate spy, To give him this charge: ‘Do not wed his wife, Nor murder him; for thou shalt buy his life With ransom of thine own, impos’d on thee By his Orestes, when in him shall be Atrides’-self renew’d, and but the prime Of youth’s spring put abroad, in thirst to climb His haughty father’s throne by his high acts.’ These words of Hermes wrought not into facts Ægisthus’ powers; good counsel he despis’d, And to that good his ill is sacrific’d.” Pallas, whose eyes did sparkle like the skies, Answer’d: “O Sire! Supreme of Deities, Ægisthus pass’d his fate, and had desert To warrant our infliction; and convert May all the pains such impious men inflict On innocent suff’rers to revenge as strict, Their own hearts eating. But, that Ithacus, Thus never meriting, should suffer thus, I deeply suffer. His more pious mind Divides him from these fortunes. Though unkind Is piety to him, giving him a fate More suff’ring than the most unfortunate, So long kept friendless in a sea-girt soil, Where the sea’s navel is a sylvan isle, In which the Goddess dwells that doth derive Her birth from Atlas, who of all alive The motion and the fashion doth command With his wise mind, whose forces understand [4] The inmost deeps and gulfs of all the seas, Who (for his skill of things superior) stays The two steep columns that prop earth and heav’n. His daughter ‘tis, who holds this homeless-driv’n [5] Still mourning with her; evermore profuse Of soft and winning speeches, that abuse And make so languishingly, and possest [6] With so remiss a mind her loved guest, Manage the action of his way for home. Where he, though in affection overcome, In judgment yet more longs to show his hopes His country’s smoke leap from her chimney tops, And death asks in her arms. Yet never shall Thy lov’d heart be converted on his thrall, Austere Olympius. Did not ever he, In ample Troy, thy altars gratify, And Grecians’ fleet make in thy off’rings swim? Jove, why still then burns thy wrath to him?” The Cloud-assembler answer’d: “What words fly, Bold daughter, from thy pale of ivory? [7] As if I ever could cast from my care Divine Ulysses, who exceeds so far All men in wisdom, and so oft hath giv’n To all th’ Immortals thron’d in ample heav’n So great and sacred gifts? But his decrees, That holds the earth in with his nimble knees, Stand to Ulysses’ longings so extreme, For taking from the God-foe Polypheme His only eye; a Cyclop, that excell’d All other Cyclops, with whose burden swell’d The nymph Thoosa, the divine increase Of Phorcys’ seed, a great God of the seas. She mix’d with Neptune in his hollow caves, And bore this Cyclop to that God of waves. For whose lost eye, th’ Earth-shaker did not kill Erring Ulysses, but reserves him still In life for more death. But use we our pow’rs, And round about us cast these cares of ours, All to discover how we may prefer His wish’d retreat, and Neptune make forbear His stern eye to him, since no one God can, In spite of all, prevail, but ’gainst a man.” To this, this answer made the grey-eyed Maid: “Supreme of rulers, since so well apaid The blesséd Gods are all then, now, in thee, To limit wise Ulysses’ misery, And that you speak as you referr’d to me Prescription for the means, in this sort be Their sacred order: Let us now address With utmost speed our swift Argicides, To tell the nymph that bears the golden tress In th’ isle Ogygia, that ’tis our will She should not stay our lov’d Ulysses still, But suffer his return; and then will I To Ithaca, to make his son apply His sire’s inquest the more; infusing force Into his soul, to summon the concourse Of curl’d-head Greeks to council, and deter Each wooer, that hath been the slaughterer Of his fat sheep and crooked-headed beeves. From more wrong to his mother, and their leaves Take in such terms as fit deserts so great. To Sparta then, and Pylos, where doth beat Bright Amathus, the flood, and epithet To all that kingdom, my advice shall send The spirit-advanc’d Prince, to the pious end Of seeking his lost father, if he may Receive report from Fame where rests his stay; And make, besides, his own successive worth Known to the world, and set in action forth.” This said, her wing’d shoes to her feet she tied, Form’d all of gold, and all eternified, That on the round earth or the sea sustain’d Her ravish’d substance swift as gusts of wind. Then took she her strong lance with steel made keen, Great, massy, active, that whole hosts of men, Though all heroës, conquers, if her ire Their wrongs inflame, back’d by so great a Sire. Down from Olympus’ tops she headlong div’d, And swift as thought in Ithaca arriv’d, Close at Ulysses’ gates; in whose first court She made her stand, and, for her breast’s support, Lean’d on her iron lance; her form imprest With Mentas’ likeness, come as being a guest. There found she those proud wooers, that were then Set on those ox-hides that themselves had slain, Before the gates, and all at dice were playing. To them the heralds, and the rest obeying, Fill’d wine and water; some, still as they play’d, And some, for solemn supper’s state, purvey’d, With porous sponges cleansing tables, serv’d With much rich feast; of which to all they kerv’d. God-like Telemachus amongst them sat, Griev’d much in mind; and in his heart begat All representment of his absent sire, How, come from far-off parts, his spirits would fire With those proud wooers’ sight, with slaughter parting Their bold concourse, and to himself converting The honours they usurp’d, his own commanding. In this discourse, he first saw Pallas standing, Unbidden entry; up rose, and addrest His pace right to her, angry that a guest Should stand so long at gate; and, coming near, Her right hand took, took in his own her spear, And thus saluted: “Grace to your repair, Fair guest, your welcome shall be likewise fair. Enter, and, cheer’d with feast, disclose th’ intent That caus’d your coming.” This said, first he went, And Pallas follow’d. To a room they came, Steep, and of state; the jav’lin of the Dame He set against a pillar vast and high, Amidst a large and bright-kept armory, Which was, besides, with woods of lances grac’d Of his grave father’s. In a throne he plac’d The man-turn’d Goddess, under which was spread A carpet, rich and of deviceful thread; A footstool staying her feet; and by her chair Another seat (all garnish’d wondrous fair, To rest or sleep on in the day) he set, Far from the prease of wooers, lest at meat The noise they still made might offend his guest, Disturbing him at banquet or at rest, Ev’n to his combat with that pride of theirs, That kept no noble form in their affairs. And these he set far from them, much the rather To question freely of his absent father. A table fairly-polish’d then was spread, On which a rev’rend officer set bread, And other servitors all sorts of meat (Salads, and flesh, such as their haste could get) Serv’d with observance in. And then the sewer Pour’d water from a great and golden ewer, That from their hands t’ a silver caldron ran. Both wash’d, and seated close, the voiceful man Fetch’d cups of gold, and set by them, and round Those cups with wine with all endeavour crown’d. Then rush’d in the rude wooers, themselves plac’d; The heralds water gave; the maids in haste Serv’d bread from baskets. When, of all prepar’d And set before them, the bold wooers shar’d, Their pages plying their cups past the rest. But lusty wooers must do more than feast; For now, their hungers and their thirsts allay’d, They call’d for songs and dances; those, they said, Were th’ ornaments of feast. The herald straight A harp, carv’d full of artificial sleight, Thrust into Phemius’, a learn’d singer’s, hand, Who, till he much was urg’d, on terms did stand, But, after, play’d and sung with all his art. Telemachus to Pallas then (apart, His ear inclining close, that none might hear) In this sort said: “My guest, exceeding dear, Will you not sit incens’d with what I say? These are the cares these men take; feast and play. Which eas’ly they may use, because they eat, Free and unpunish’d, of another’s meat; And of a man’s, whose white bones wasting lie In some far region; with th’ incessancy Of show’rs pour’d down upon them, lying ashore, Or in the seas wash’d nak’d. Who, if he wore Those bones with flesh and life and industry, And these might here in Ithaca set eye On him return’d, they all would wish to be Either past other in celerity Of feet and knees, and not contend t’ exceed In golden garments. But his virtues feed The fate of ill death; nor is left to me The least hope of his life’s recovery, No, not if any of the mortal race Should tell me his return; the cheerful face Of his return’d day never will appear. But tell me, and let Truth your witness bear, Who, and from whence you are? What city’s birth? What parents? In what vessel set you forth? And with what mariners arriv’d you here? I cannot think you a foot passenger. Recount then to me all, to teach me well Fit usage for your worth. And if it fell In chance now first that you thus see us here, Or that in former passages you were My father’s guest? For many men have been Guests to my father. Studious of men His sociable nature ever was.” On him again the grey-eyed Maid did pass This kind reply: “I’ll answer passing true All thou hast ask’d: My birth his honour drew From wise Anchialus. The name I bear Is Mentas, the commanding islander Of all the Taphians studious in the art Of navigation; having touch’d this part With ship and men, of purpose to maintain Course through the dark seas t’ other-languag’d men; And Temesis sustains the city’s name For which my ship is bound, made known by fame For rich in brass, which my occasions need, And therefore bring I shining steel in stead, Which their use wants, yet makes my vessel’s freight, That near a plough’d field rides at anchor’s weight, Apart this city, in the harbour call’d Rhethrus, whose waves with Neius’ woods are wall’d. Thy sire and I were ever mutual guests, At either’s house still interchanging feasts. I glory in it. Ask, when thou shalt see Laertes, th’ old heroë, these of me, From the beginning. He, men say, no more Visits the city, but will needs deplore His son’s believ’d loss in a private field; One old maid only at his hands to yield Food to his life, as oft as labour makes His old limbs faint; which, though he creeps, he takes Along a fruitful plain, set all with vines, Which husbandman-like, though a king, he proins. But now I come to be thy father’s guest; I hear he wanders, while these wooers feast. And (as th’ Immortals prompt me at this hour) I’ll tell thee, out of a prophetic pow’r, (Not as profess’d a prophet, nor clear seen At all times what shall after chance to men) What I conceive, for this time, will be true: The Gods’ inflictions keep your sire from you. Divine Ulysses, yet, abides not dead Above earth, nor beneath, nor buried In any seas, as you did late conceive, But, with the broad sea sieg’d, is kept alive Within an isle by rude and upland men, That in his spite his passage home detain. Yet long it shall not be before he tread His country’s dear earth, though solicited, And held from his return, with iron chains; For he hath wit to forge a world of trains, And will, of all, be sure to make good one For his return, so much relied upon. But tell me, and be true: Art thou indeed So much a son, as to be said the seed [8] Of Ithacus himself? Exceeding much Thy forehead and fair eyes at his form touch; For oftentimes we met, as you and I Meet at this hour, before he did apply His pow’rs for Troy, when other Grecian states In hollow ships were his associates. But, since that time, mine eyes could never see Renown’d Ulysses, nor met his with me.” The wise Telemachus again replied: “You shall with all I know be satisfied. My mother certain says I am his son; I know not; nor was ever simply known By any child the sure truth of his sire. But would my veins had took in living fire From some man happy, rather than one wise, Whom age might see seis’d of what youth made prise. But he whoever of the mortal race Is most unblest, he holds my father’s place. This, since you ask, I answer.” She, again: “The Gods sure did not make the future strain Both of thy race and days obscure to thee, Since thou wert born so of Penelope. The style may by thy after acts be won, Of so great sire the high undoubted son. Say truth in this then: What’s this feasting here? What all this rout? Is all this nuptial cheer? Or else some friendly banquet made by thee? For here no shots are, where all sharers be. Past measure contumeliously this crew Fare through thy house; which should th’ ingenuous view Of any good or wise man come and find, (Impiety seeing play’d in ev’ry kind) He could not but through ev’ry vein be mov’d.” Again Telemachus: “My guest much lov’d. Since you demand and sift these sights so far, I grant ’twere fit a house so regular, Rich, and so faultless once in government, Should still at all parts the same form present That gave it glory while her lord was here. But now the Gods, that us displeasure bear, Have otherwise appointed, and disgrace My father most of all the mortal race. For whom I could not mourn so were he dead, Amongst his fellow-captains slaughteréd By common enemies, or in the hands Of his kind friends had ended his commands, After he had egregiously bestow’d His pow’r and order in a war so vow’d, And to his tomb all Greeks their grace had done, That to all ages he might leave his son Immortal honour; but now Harpies have Digg’d in their gorges his abhorréd grave. Obscure, inglorious, death hath made his end, And me, for glories, to all griefs contend. Nor shall I any more mourn him alone, The Gods have giv’n me other cause of moan. For look how many optimates remain In Samos, or the shores Dulichian, Shady Zacynthus, or how many bear Rule in the rough brows of this island here; So many now my mother and this house At all parts make defam’d and ruinous; And she her hateful nuptials nor denies, Nor will despatch their importunities, Though she beholds them spoil still as they feast All my free house yields, and the little rest Of my dead sire in me perhaps intend To bring ere long to some untimely end.” This Pallas sigh’d and answer’d: “O,” said she, “Absent Ulysses is much miss’d by thee, That on these shameless suitors he might lay His wreakful hands. Should he now come, and stay In thy court’s first gates, arm’d with helm and shield, And two such darts as I have seen him wield, When first I saw him in our Taphian court, Feasting, and doing his desert’s disport; When from Ephyrus he return’d by us From Ilus, son to Centaur Mermerus, To whom he travell’d through the wat’ry dreads, For bane to poison his sharp arrows’ heads, That death, but touch’d, caus’d; which he would not give, Because he fear’d the Gods that ever live Would plague such death with death; and yet their fear Was to my father’s bosom not so dear As was thy father’s love; (for what he sought My loving father found him to a thought.) If such as then Ulysses might but meet With these proud wooers, all were at his feet But instant dead men, and their nuptialls Would prove as bitter as their dying galls. But these things in the Gods’ knees are repos’d, If his return shall see with wreak inclos’d, These in his house, or he return no more; And therefore I advise thee to explore All ways thyself, to set these wooers gone; To which end give me fit attentión: To-morrow into solemn council call The Greek heroës, and declare to all (The Gods being witness) what thy pleasure is. Command to towns of their nativity These frontless wooers. If thy mother’s mind Stands to her second nuptials so inclin’d, Return she to her royal father’s tow’rs, Where th’ one of these may wed her, and her dow’rs Make rich, and such as may consort with grace So dear a daughter of so great a race And thee I warn as well (if thou as well Wilt hear and follow) take thy best-built sail, With twenty oars mann’d, and haste t’ inquire Where the abode is of thy absent sire, If any can inform thee, or thine ear From Jove the fame of his retreat may hear, For chiefly Jove gives all that honours men. To Pylos first be thy addression then, To god-like Nestor; thence to Sparta haste, To gold-lock’d Menelaus, who was last Of all the brass-arm’d Greeks that sail’d from Troy; And try from both these, if thou canst enjoy News of thy sire’s return’d life anywhere, Though sad thou suffer’st in his search a year. If of his death thou hear’st, return thou home, And to his memory erect a tomb, Performing parent-rites, of feast and game, Pompous, and such as best may fit his fame; And then thy mother a fit husband give. These past, consider how thou mayst deprive Of worthless life these wooers in thy house, By open force, or projects enginous. Things childish fit not thee; th’ art so no more. Hast thou not heard, how all men did adore Divine Orestes, after he had slain Ægisthus murd’ring by a treach’rous train His famous father? Be then, my most lov’d, Valiant and manly, ev’ry way approv’d As great as he. I see thy person fit, Noble thy mind, and excellent thy wit, All giv’n thee so to use and manage here That ev’n past death they may their memories bear. In meantime I’ll descend to ship and men, That much expect me. Be observant then Of my advice, and careful to maintain In equal acts thy royal father’s reign.” Telemachus replied: “You ope, fair guest, A friend’s heart in your speech, as well exprest As might a father serve t’ inform his son; All which sure place have in my memory won. Abide yet, though your voyage calls away, That, having bath’d, and dignified your stay With some more honour, you may yet beside Delight your mind by being gratified With some rich present taken in your way, That, as a jewel, your respect may lay Up in your treasury, bestow’d by me, As free friends use to guests of such degree.” “Detain me not,” said she, “so much inclin’d To haste my voyage. What thy loved mind Commands to give, at my return this way, Bestow on me, that I directly may Convey it home; which more of price to me The more it asks my recompense to thee.” This said, away grey-eyed Minerva flew, Like to a mounting lark; and did endue His mind with strength and boldness, and much more Made him his father long for than before; And weighing better who his guest might be, He stood amaz’d, and thought a Deity Was there descended; to whose will he fram’d His pow’rs at all parts, and went so inflam’d Amongst the wooers, who were silent set, To hear a poet sing the sad retreat The Greeks perform’d from Troy; which was from thence Proclaim’d by Pallas, pain of her offence. When which divine song was perceiv’d to bear That mournful subject by the list’ning ear Of wise Penelope, Icarius’ seed, Who from an upper room had giv’n it heed, Down she descended by a winding stair, Not solely, but the state in her repair Two maids of honour made. And when this queen Of women stoop’d so low, she might be seen By all her wooers. In the door, aloof, Ent’ring the hall grac’d with a goodly roof, She stood, in shade of graceful veils, implied About her beauties; on her either side, Her honour’d women. When, to tears mov’d, thus She chid the sacred singer: “Phemiüs, You know a number more of these great deeds Of Gods and men, that are the sacred seeds, And proper subjects, of a poet’s song, And those due pleasures that to men belong, Besides these facts that furnish Troy’s retreat, Sing one of those to these, that round your seat They may with silence sit, and taste their wine; But cease this song, that through these ears of mine Conveys deserv’d occasion to my heart Of endless sorrows, of which the desert In me unmeasur’d is past all these men, So endless is the memory I retain, And so desertful is that memory, Of such a man as hath a dignity So broad it spreads itself through all the pride Of Greece and Argos.” To the queen replied Inspir’d Telemachus: “Why thus envies My mother him that fits societies [9] With so much harmony, to let him please His own mind in his will to honour these? For these ingenious and first sort of men, [10] That do immediately from Jove retain Their singing raptures, are by Jove as well Inspir’d with choice of what their songs impell, Jove’s will is free in it, and therefore theirs. Nor is this man to blame, that the repairs The Greeks make homeward sings; for his fresh muse Men still most celebrate that sings most news. And therefore in his note your ears employ: For not Ulysses only lost in Troy The day of his return, but numbers more The deadly ruins of his fortunes bore. Go you then in, and take your work in hand, Your web, and distaff; and your maids command To ply their fit work. Words to men are due, And those reproving counsels you pursue, And most to me of all men, since I bear The rule of all things that are manag’d here.” She went amaz’d away, and in her heart Laid up the wisdom Pallas did impart To her lov’d son so lately, turn’d again Up to her chamber, and no more would reign In manly counsels. To her women she Applied her sway; and to the wooers he Began new orders, other spirits bewray’d Than those in spite of which the wooers sway’d. And (whiles his mother’s tears still wash’d her eyes, Till grey Minerva did those tears surprise With timely sleep, and that her wooers did rouse Rude tumult up through all the shady house, Dispos’d to sleep because their widow was) Telemachus this new-giv’n spirit did pass On their old insolence: “Ho! you that are, My mother’s wooers! much too high ye bear Your petulant spirits; sit; and, while ye may Enjoy me in your banquets, see ye lay These loud notes down, nor do this man the wrong, Because my mother hath disliked his song, To grace her interruption. ’Tis a thing Honest, and honour’d too, to hear one sing Numbers so like the Gods in elegance, As this man flows in. By the morn’s first light, [11] I’ll call ye all before me in a Court, That I may clearly banish your resort, With all your rudeness, from these roofs of mine. Away; and elsewhere in your feasts combine. Consume your own goods, and make mutual feast At either’s house. Or if ye still hold best, And for your humours’ more sufficéd fill, To feed, to spoil, because unpunish’d still, On other findings, spoil; but here I call Th’ Eternal Gods to witness, if it fall In my wish’d reach once to be dealing wreaks, By Jove’s high bounty, these your present checks To what I give in charge shall add more reins To my revenge hereafter; and the pains Ye then must suffer shall pass all your pride Ever to see redress’d, or qualified.” At this all bit their lips, and did admire His words sent from him with such phrase and fire; Which so much mov’d them that Antinous, Eupitheus’ son, cried out: “Telemachus! The Gods, I think, have rapt thee to this height Of elocution, and this great conceit Of self-ability. We all may pray, That Jove invest not in this kingdom’s sway Thy forward forces, which I see put forth A hot ambition in thee for thy birth.” “Be not offended,” he replied, “if I [12] Shall say, I would assume this empery, If Jove gave leave. You are not he that sings: The rule of kingdoms is the worst of things. Nor is it ill, at all, to sway a throne; A man may quickly gain possession Of mighty riches, make a wondrous prize Set of his virtues; but the dignities That deck a king, there are enough beside In this circumfluous isle that want no pride To think them worthy of, as young as I, And old as you are. An ascent so high My thoughts affect not. Dead is he that held Desert of virtue to have so excell’d. But of these turrets I will take on me To be the absolute king, and reign as free, As did my father, over all his hand Left here in this house slaves to my command.” Eurymachus, the son of Polybus, To this made this reply: “Telemachus! The girlond of this kingdom let the knees Of Deity run for; but the faculties This house is seis’d of, and the turrets here, Thou shalt be lord of, nor shall any bear The least part off of all thou dost possess, As long as this land is no wilderness. Nor rul’d by out-laws. But give these their pass, And tell me, best of princes, who he was That guested here so late? From whence? And what In any region boasted he his state? His race? His country? Brought he any news Of thy returning father? Or for dues Of moneys to him made he fit repair? How suddenly he rush’d into the air, Nor would sustain to stay and make him known! His port show’d no debauch’d companion.” He answer’d: “The return of my lov’d sire Is past all hope; and should rude Fame inspire From any place a flatt’ring messenger With news of his survival, he should bear No least belief off from my desp’rate love. Which if a sacred prophet should approve, Call’d by my mother for her care’s unrest, It should not move me. For my late fair guest, He was of old my father’s, touching here From sea-girt Taphos; and for name doth bear Mentas, the son of wise Anchialus; And governs all the Taphians studious Of navigation.” This he said, but knew It was a Goddess. These again withdrew To dances and attraction of the song; And while their pleasures did the time prolong, The sable Even descended, and did steep The lids of all men in desire of sleep. Telemachus, into a room built high, Of his illustrious court, and to the eye Of circular prospect, to his bed ascended, And in his mind much weighty thought contended Before him Euryclea (that well knew All the observance of a handmaid’s due, Daughter to Opis Pisenorides) Bore two bright torches; who did so much please Laërtes in her prime, that, for the price Of twenty oxen, he made merchandise Of her rare beauties; and love’s equal flame, To her he felt, as to his nuptial dame, Yet never durst he mix with her in bed, So much the anger of his wife he fled. She, now grown old, to young Telemachus Two torches bore, and was obsequious Past all his other maids, and did apply Her service to him from his infancy. His well-built chamber reach’d, she op’d the door, He on his bed sat, the soft weeds he wore Put off, and to the diligent old maid Gave all; who fitly all in thick folds laid, And hung them on a beam-pin near the bed, That round about was rich embroidered. Then made she haste forth from him, and did bring The door together with a silver ring, And by a string a bar to it did pull. He, laid, and cover’d well with curled wool Wov’n in silk quilts, all night employ’d his mind About the task that Pallas had design’d.
FINIS LIBRI PRIMI HOM. ODYSS.
[1] The information or fashion of an absolute man; and necessary (or fatal) passage through many afflictions (according with the most Sacred Letter) to his natural haven and country, is the whole argument and scope of this inimitable and miraculous poem. And therefore is the epithet πολὐτροπον given him in the first verse: πολὐτροπος signifying, Homo cujus ingenium velut per multas et varias vias vertitur in verum.
[2] These notes following I am forced to insert (since the words they contain differ from all other translations) lest I be thought to err out of that ignorance that may perhaps possess my depraver.
[3] ‘Αμὑμονος translated in this place inculpabilis, and made the epithet of Ægisthus, is from the true sense of the word, as it is here to be understood; which is quite contrary. As ὰντίθεος is to be expounded in some place Divinus, or Deo similis, but in another (soon after) contrarius Deo. The person to whom the epithet is given giving reason to distinguish it. And so ὀλοὁφρων, an epithet given to Atlas, instantly following, in one place signifies mente perniciosus, in the next, qui universa mente gerit.
[4] In this place is Atlas given the epithet ὀλοὁφρων, which signifies qui universa mente agitat, here given him for the power the stars have in all things. Yet this receives other interpretation in other places, as abovesaid.
[5] Δὐστηνος is here turned by others, infelix, in the general collection; when it hath here a particular exposition, applied to express Ulysses’ desert errors, ‘παρἁ τὁ στἣναι, ut sit, qui vix locum invenire potest ubi consistat.
[6] This is thus translated, the rather to express and approve the allegory driven through the whole Odysseys. Deciphering the intangling of the wisest in his affections; and the torments that breed in every pious mind; to be thereby hindered to arrive so directly as he desires, at the proper and only true natural country of every worthy man, whose haven is heaven and the next life, to which, this life is but a sea in continual æsture and vexation. The words occasioning all this are μαλακοἳς λὀλοις: μαλακὀς signifying, qui languide, et animo remisso rem aliquam gerit; which being the effect of Calypso’s sweet words in Ulysses, is here applied passively to his own sufferance of their operation.
[7] ῞Ερκος ὀδὀντων, viz. vallum or clanstrum dentium, which, for the better sound in our language, is here turned, Pale of Ivory. The teeth being that rampire, or pale, given us by nature in that part for restraint and compression of our speech, till the imagination, appetite, and soul (that ought to rule in their examination, before their delivery) have given worthy pass to them. The most grave and divine poet, teaching therein, that not so much for the necessary chewing of our sustenance our teeth are given us, as for their stay of our words, lest we utter them rashly.
[8] Τὀσος παîς, Tantus filius. Pallas thus enforcing her question to stir up the son the more to the father’s worthiness.
[9] ’Ερἰηρος ἀοιδὀς. Cantor, cujus tam apta est societas hominibus.
[10] ’Ανδρἀσιν ἀλφηστᾔσιν. ’Αλφηστᾔσιν is an epithet proper to poets for their first finding out of arts and documents tending to elocution and government inspired only by Jove, and are here called the first of men, since first they gave rules to manly life, and have their information immediately from Jove (as Plato in Ione witnesseth); the word deduced from ἅλφα, which is taken for him qui primas teneat aliquâ in re, and will ἀλφηστῃσιν then be sufficiently expressed with ingeniosis, than which no exposition goes further.
[11] ’Ηωθεν, prima luce.
[12] Upon this answer of Telemachus, because it hath so sudden a change and is so far let down from his late height of heat, altering and tempering so commandingly his affections I thought not amiss to insert here Spondanus’ further annotations, which is this: Prudenter Telemachus joco furorem Antinoi ac asperitatem emolliit. Nam ita dictum illius interpretatur, ut existimetur censere jocosè ilia etiam ab Antinoo adversum se pronunciata. Et primum ironicè se Regem esse exoptat propter commoda quæ Reges solent comitari. Ne tamen invidiam in se ambitionis concitet, testatur se regnum, Ithacæ non ambire, mortuo Ulysse, cum id alii possidere queant se longe præstantiores ac digniores: hoc unum ait se moliri, ut propriarum ædium et bonorum solus sit dominus, iis exclusis, ac ejectis, qui vi illa occupare ac disperdere conantur.
THE SECOND BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS
THE ARGUMENT
Telemachus to court doth call The Wooers, and commands them all To leave his house; and taking then From wise Minerva ship and men, And all things fit for him beside, That Euryclea could provide For sea-rites till he found his sire, He hoists sail; when Heav’n stoops his fire.
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
βητα. The old Maid’s store The voyage cheers. The ship leaves shore, Minerva steers.
Now when with rosy fingers, th’ early born And thrown through all the air, appear’d the Morn, Ulysses’ lov’d son from his bed appear’d, His weeds put on, and did about him gird His sword that thwart his shoulders hung, and tied To his fair feet fair shoes, and all parts plied For speedy readiness: who, when he trod The open earth, to men show’d like a God. The heralds then he straight charg’d to consort The curl’d-head Greeks, with loud calls, to a Court. They summon’d; th’ other came in utmost haste. Who all assembled, and in one heap plac’d He likewise came to council, and did bear In his fair hand his iron-headed spear. Nor came alone, nor with men-troops prepar’d, But two fleet dogs made both his train and guard. Pallas supplied with her high wisdom’s grace, That all men’s wants supplies, State’s painted face. His ent’ring presence all men did admire; Who took seat in the high throne of his sire, To which the grave peers gave him rev’rend way. Amongst whom, an Egyptian heroë (Crookéd with age, and full of skill) begun The speech to all; who had a loved son That with divine Ulysses did ascend His hollow fleet to Troy; to serve which end, He kept fair horse, and was a man-at-arms, And in the cruel Cyclop’s stern alarms His life lost by him in his hollow cave, Whose entrails open’d his abhorréd grave, And made of him, of all Ulysses’ train, His latest supper, being latest slain; His name was Antiphus, And this old man, This crookéd-grown, this wise Egyptian, Had three sons more; of which one riotous A wooer was, and call’d Eurynomus; The other two took both his own wish’d course. Yet both the best fates weigh’d not down the worse, But left the old man mindful still of moan; Who, weeping, thus bespake the Session: “Hear, Ithacensians, all I fitly say: Since our divine Ulysses’ parting day Never was council call’d, nor session, And now by whom is this thus undergone? Whom did necessity so much compell, Of young or old? Hath anyone heard tell Of any coming army, that he thus now May openly take boldness to avow, First having heard it? Or will any here Some motion for the public good prefer? Some worth of note there is in this command; And, methinks, it must be some good man’s hand That’s put to it, that either hath direct Means to assist, or, for his good affect, Hopes to be happy in the proof he makes; And that Jove grant, whate’er he undertakes.” Telemachus (rejoicing much to hear The good hope and opinion men did bear Of his young actions) no longer sat, But long’d t’ approve what this man pointed at, And make his first proof in a cause so good; And in the council’s chief place up he stood; When straight Pisenor (herald to his sire, And learn’d in counsels) felt his heart on fire To hear him speak, and put into his hand The sceptre that his father did command; Then, to the old Egyptian turn’d, he spoke: “Father, not far he is that undertook To call this Council; whom you soon shall know. Myself, whose wrongs my griefs will make me show, Am he that author’d this assembly here. Nor have I heard of any army near, Of which, being first told, I might iterate, Nor for the public good can aught relate, Only mine own affairs all this procure, That in my house a double ill endure; One, having lost a father so renown’d, Whose kind rule once with’ your command was crown’d; The other is, what much more doth augment His weighty loss, the ruin imminent Of all my house by it, my goods all spent. And of all this the wooers, that are sons To our chief peers, are the confusións, Importuning my mother’s marriáge Against her will; nor dares their blood’s bold rage Go to Icarius’, her father’s, court, That, his will ask’d in kind and comely sort, He may endow his daughter with a dow’r, And, she consenting, at his pleasure’s pow’r Dispose her to a man, that, thus behav’d, May have fit grace, and see her honour sav’d. But these, in none but my house, all their lives Resolve to spend; slaught’ring my sheep and beeves, And with my fattest goats lay feast on feast, My gen’rous wine consuming as they list. A world of things they spoil, here wanting one, That, like Ulysses, quickly could set gone These peace-plagues from his house, that spoil like war; Whom my pow’rs are unfit to urge so far, Myself immartial. But, had I the pow’r, My will should serve me to exempt this hour From out my life-time. For, past patience, Base deeds are done here, that exceed defence Of any honour. Falling is my house, Which you should shame to see so ruinous. Rev’rence the censures that all good men give, That dwell about you; and for fear to live Expos’d to heav’n’s wrath (that doth ever pay Pains for joys forfeit) even by Jove I pray, Or Themis, both which pow’rs have to restrain, Or gather, councils, that ye will abstain From further spoil, and let me only waste In that most wretched grief I have embrac’d For my lost father. And though I am free From meriting your outrage, yet, if he, Good man, hath ever with a hostile heart Done ill to any Greek, on me convert Your like hostility, and vengeance take Of his ill on my life, and all these make Join in that justice; but, to see abus’d Those goods that do none ill but being ill-us’d, Exceeds all right. Yet better ’tis for me, My whole possessions and my rents to see Consum’d by you, than lose my life and all; For on your rapine a revenge may fall, While I live; and so long I may complain About the city, till my goods again, Oft ask’d, may be with all amends repaid. But in the mean space your misrule hath laid Griefs on my bosom, that can only speak, And are denied the instant pow’r of wreak.” This said, his sceptre ’gainst the ground he threw, And tears still’d from him; which mov’d all the crew, The court struck silent, not a man did dare To give a word that might offend his ear. Antinous only in this sort replied: “High spoken, and of spirit unpacified, How have you sham’d us in this speech of yours! Will you brand us for an offence not ours? Your mother, first in craft, is first in cause. Three years are past, and near the fourth now draws, Since first she mock’d the peers Achaian. All she made hope, and promis’d ev’ry man, Sent for us ever, left love’s show in nought, But in her heart conceal’d another thought. Besides, as curious in her craft, her loom She with a web charg’d, hard to overcome, And thus bespake us: ‘Youths, that seek my bed, Since my divine spouse rests amongst the dead, Hold on your suits but till I end, at most, This funeral weed, lest what is done be lost. Besides, I purpose, that when th’ austere fate Of bitter death shall take into his state Laertes the heroë, it shall deck His royal corse, since I should suffer check In ill report of ev’ry common dame, If one so rich should show in death his shame.’ This speech she us’d; and this did soon persuade Our gentle minds. But this a work she made So hugely long, undoing still in night, By torches, all she did by day’s broad light, That three years her deceit div’d past our view, And made us think that all she feign’d was true. But when the fourth year came, and those sly hours That still surprise at length dames’ craftiest powers, One of her women, that knew all, disclos’d The secret to us, that she still unloos’d Her whole day’s fair affair in depth of night. And then no further she could force her sleight, But, of necessity, her work gave end. And thus, by me, doth ev’ry other friend, Professing love to her, reply to thee; That ev’n thyself, and all Greeks else, may see, That we offend not in our stay, but she. To free thy house then, send her to her sire, Commanding that her choice be left entire To his election, and one settled will. Nor let her vex with her illusions still Her friends that woo her, standing on her wit, Because wise Pallas hath giv’n wills to it So full of art, and made her understand All works in fair skill of a lady’s hand. But (for her working mind) we read of none Of all the old world, in which Greece hath shown Her rarest pieces, that could equal her: Tyro, Alcmena, and Mycena were To hold comparison in no degree, For solid brain, with wise Penelope. And yet, in her delays of us, she shows No prophet’s skill with all the wit she owes; For all this time thy goods and victuals go To utter ruin; and shall ever so, While thus the Gods her glorious mind dispose. Glory herself may gain, but thou shalt lose Thy longings ev’n for necessary food, For we will never go where lies our good, Nor any other where, till this delay She puts on all she quits with th’ endless stay Of some one of us, that to all the rest May give free farewell with his nuptial feast.” The wise young prince replied: “Antinous! I may by no means turn out of my house Her that hath brought me forth and nourish’d me. Besides, if quick or dead my father be In any region, yet abides in doubt; And ’twill go hard, my means being so run out, To tender to Icarius again, If he again my mother must maintain In her retreat, the dow’r she brought with her. And then a double ill it will confer, Both from my father and from God on me, When, thrust out of her house, on her bent knee, My mother shall the horrid Furies raise With imprecations, and all men dispraise My part in her exposure. Never then Will I perform this counsel. If your spleen Swell at my courses, once more I command Your absence from my house; some other’s hand Charge with your banquets; on your own goods eat, And either other mutually in treat, At either of your houses, with your feast. But if ye still esteem more sweet and best Another’s spoil, so you still wreakless live, Gnaw, vermin-like, things sacred, no laws give [1] To your devouring; it remains that I Invoke each Ever-living Deity, And vow, if Jove shall deign in any date Pow’r of like pains for pleasure so past rate, From thenceforth look, where ye have revell’d so Unwreak’d, your ruins all shall undergo.” Thus spake Telemachus; t’ assure whose threat, Far-seeing Jove upon their pinions set Two eagles from the high brows of a hill, That, mounted on the Winds, together still Their strokes extended; but arriving now Amidst the Council, over ev’ry brow Shook their thick wings and, threat’ning death’s cold fears, Their necks and cheeks tore with their eager seres; Then, on the court’s right hand away they flew, Above both court and city. With whose view, And study what events they might foretell The Council into admiration fell. The old heroë, Halitherses, then, The son of Nestor, that of all old men, His peers in that court, only could foresee By flight of fowls man’s fixed destiny, ’Twixt them and their amaze, this interpos’d: “Hear, Ithacensians, all your doubts disclos’d. The Wooers most are touch’d in this ostent, To whom are dangers great and imminent; For now not long more shall Ulysses bear Lack of his most lov’d, but fills some place near, Addressing to these Wooers fate and death. And many more this mischief menaceth Of us inhabiting this famous isle. Let us consult yet, in this long forewhile, How to ourselves we may prevent this ill. Let these men rest secure, and revel still; Though they might find it safer, if with us They would in time prevent what threats them thus; Since not without sure trial I foretell These coming storms, but know their issue well. For to Ulysses all things have event, As I foretold him, when for Ilion went The whole Greek fleet together, and with them Th’ abundant-in-all-counsels took the stream. I told him, that, when much ill he had past, And all his men were lost, he should at last, The twentieth year, turn home, to all unknown; All which effects are to perfection grown.” Eurymachus, the son of Polybus, Oppos’d this man’s presage, and answer’d thus: “Hence, great in years, go, prophesy at home,
