Then on the sands he rang'd his wealthy store, The gold, the vests, the tripods, number'd o`er: All these he found, but still in errour lost, ̧' Disconsolate he wanders on the coast, Sighs for his country, and laments again To the deaf rocks, and hoarse resounding main. When, lo! the guardian goddess of the wise, Celestial Pallas, stood before his eyes; In show a youthful swain, of form divine, Who seem'd descended from some princely line. A graceful robe her slender body drest, Around her shoulders flew the waving vest; Her decent hand a shining javelin bore, And painted sandals on her feet she wore. To whom the king: "Whoe'er of human race Thou art, that wander'st in this desert place! With joy to thee, as to some god, I bend, To thee my treasures and myself commend. Oh! tell a wretch, in exile doom'd to stray, What air I breathe, what country I survey? The fruitful continent's extremest bound, Or some fair isle which Neptune's arms surround!" "From what fair clime," said she, "remote from Arriv'st thou here a stranger to our name? [fame, Thou see'st an island, not to those unknown Whose hills are brighten'd by the rising Sun, Nor those that, plac'd beneath his utmost reign, Behold him sinking in the western main. The rugged soil allows no level space For flying chariots, or the rapid race: Yet, not ungrateful to the peasant's pain, Suffices fulness to the swelling grain: The loaded trees their various fruits produce, And clustering grapes afford a generous juice: Woods crown our mountains, and in every grove The bounding goats and frisking heifers rove : Soft rains and kindly dews refresh the field, And rising springs eternal verdure yield. Ev'n to those shores is Ithaca renown'd, Where Troy's majestic ruins strow the ground." At this the chief with transport was possest, His panting heart exulting in his breast: Yet, well dissembling his untimely joys, And veiling truth in plausible disguise, Thus, with an air sincere, in fiction bold, His ready tale th' inventive hero told:

"Oft have I heard in Crete this island's name; For 'twas from Crete, my native soil, I came, Self-banish'd thence. I sail'd before the wind, And left my children and my friends behind. From fierce Idomeneus' revenge 1 flew, Whose son, the swift Orsilochus, I slew, (With brutal force he seiz'd my Trojan prey, Due to the toils of many a bloody day). Unseen I 'scap'd; and, favour'd by the night, In a Phoenician vessel took my flight, For Pyle or Elis bound: but tempests tost And raging billows drove us on your coast. In dead of night an unknown port we gain'd, Spent with fatigue, and slept secure on land. But here the rosy morn renew'd the day, While in th' embrace of pleasing sleep I lay, Sudden, invited by auspicious gales, They land my goods, and hoist their flying sails. Abandon'd here, my fortune I deplore, A hapless exile on a foreign shore."

Thus, while he spoke, the blue-ey'd maid began With pleasing smiles to view the godlike man: Then chang'd her form: and now, divinely bright, Jove's heavenly daughter stood confess'd to sight;

'Like a fair virgin in her beauty's bloom,
Skill'd in th'illustrious labours of the loom.
"Oh, still the same Ulysses!" she rejoin'd,
"In useful craft successfully refin'd!
Artful in speech, in action, and in mind!
Suffic'd it not, that, thy long labours past,
Secure thou seest thy native shore at last?
But this to me? who, like thyself, excel
In arts of counsel, and dissembling well;
To me, whose wit exceeds the powers divine,
No less than mortals are surpass'd by thine.
Know'st thou not me? who made thy life my care,
Through ten years' wandering, and through ten
years' war:

Who taught thee arts, Alcinous to persuade,
To raise his wonder, and engage his aid:
And now appear thy treasures to protect,
Conceal thy person, thy designs direct,
And tell what more thou must from fate expect.
Domestic woes far heavier to be borne !
The pride of fools, and slaves' insulting scorn.
But thou be silent, nor reveal thy state:
Yield to the force of unresisted fate,
And bear unmov'd the wrongs of base mankind,
The last, and hardest, conquest of the mind."
"Goddess of wisdom!" Ithacus replies,
"He who discerns thee must be truly wise,
So seldom view'd, and ever in disguise!
When the bold Argives led their warring powers,
Against proud Ilion's well-defended towers;
Ulysses was thy care, celestial maid!
Grac'd with thy sight, and favour'd with thy aid.
But when the Trojan piles in ashes lay,

And, bound for Greece, we plough'd the watery

way;

Our fleet dispers'd and driven from coast to coast,
Thy sacred presence from that hour I lost:
Till I beheld thy radiant form once more,
And heard thy counsels on Phæacia's shore.
But, by th' almighty author of thy race,
Tell me, oh tell! is this my native place?
For much I fear, long tracts of land and sea
Divide this coast from distant Ithaca;
The sweet delusion kindly you impose,
To soothe my hopes, and mitigate my woes.

Thus he. The blue-ey'd goddess thus replies: "How prone to doubt, how cautious, are the wise! Who, vers'd in fortune, fear the flattering show, And taste not half the bliss the gods bestow. The more shall Pallas aid thy just desires, And guard the wisdom which herself inspires. Others, long absent from their native place, Straight seek their home, and fly with eager pace To their wives' arms, and children's dear embrace. Not thus Ulysses: he decrees to prove His subjects' faith, and queen's suspected love; Who mourn'd her lord twice ten revolving years, And wastes the days in grief, the nights in tears. But Pallas knew (thy friends and navy lost) Once more 'twas given thee to behold thy coast! Yet how could I with adverse fate engage, And mighty Neptune's unrelenting rage? Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore The pleasing prospect of thy native shore : Behold the port of Phorcys! fenc'd around With rocky mountains, and with olives crown'd. Behold the gloomy grot! whose cool recess Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas: Whose now neglected altars in thy reign

Blush'd with the blood of sheep and oxen slain,

Behold! where Neritus the clouds divides,
And shakes the waving forests on his sides."

So spake the goddess; and the prospect clear'd,
The mists dispers'd, and all the coast appear'd.
The king with joy confess'd his place of birth,
And on his knees salutes his mother Earth:
Then, with his suppliant hands upheld in air,
Thus to the sea-green sisters sends his prayer:
"All hail! ye virgin-daughters of the main !
Ye streams, beyond my hopes beheld again!
To you once more your own Ulysses bows;
Attend his transports, and receive his vows!
If Jove prolong my days, and Pallas crown
The growing virtues of my youthful son,
To you shall rites divine be ever paid,
And grateful offerings on your altars laid."
Then thus Minerva: "From that anxious breast
Dismiss those cares, and leave to Heaven the rest.
Our task be now thy treasur'd stores to save,
Deep in the close recesses of the cave:
Then future means consult"-She spoke, and trod
The shady grot, that brighten'd with the god.
The closest caverns of the grot she sought;
The gold, the brass, the robes, Ulysses brought;
These in the secret gloom the chief dispos'd,
The entrance with a rock the goddess clos'd,
Now, seated in the olive's sacred shade,
Confer the hero and the martial maid.
The goddess of the azure eyes began:
"Son of Laertes! much experienc'd man!
The suitor-train thy earliest care demand,
Of that luxurious race to rid the land:

Three years thy house their lawless rule has seen,
And proud addresses to the matchless queen.
But she thy absence mourns from day to day,
And inly bleeds, and silent wastes away:
Elusive of the bridal hour, she gives

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Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives."
To this Ulysses: O, celestial maid!
Prais'd be thy counsel, and thy timely aid:
Else had I seen my native walls in vain,
Like great Atrides just restor'd and slain.
Vouchsafe the means of vengeance to debate,
And plan with all thy arts the scene of fate.
Then, then be present, and my soul inspire,
As when we wrapp'd Troy's heaven-built walls in
fire.

Though leagu'd against me hundred heroes stand,
Hundreds shall fall, if Pallas aid my hand."

She answer'd: "In the dreadful day of fight Know, I am with thee, strong in all my might. If thou but equal to thyself be found, What gasping numbers then shall press the

ground!

What human victims stain the feastful floor!
How wide the pavements float with guilty gore!
It fits thee now to wear a dark disguise,
And secret walk unknown to mortal eyes.
For this, my hand shall wither every grace,
And every elegance of form and face,

O'er thy smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread,
Turn hoar the auburn honours of thy head,
Disfigure every limb with coarse attire,
And in thy eyes extinguish all the fire;
Add all the wants and the decays of life;
Estrange thee from thy own; thy son, thy wife;
From the loath'd object every sight shall turn,
And the blind suitors their destruction scorn.

"Go first the master of thy herds to find, True to his charge, a loyal swain and kind :

For thee he sighs; and to the royal heir
And chaste Penelope extends his care.
At the Coracian rock he now resides,
Where Arethusa's sable water glides;
The sable water and the copious mast
Swell the fat herd; luxuriant, large repast!
With him, rest peaceful in the rural cell,
And all you ask his faithful tongue shall tell.
Me into other realins my cares convey,
To Sparta, still with female beauty gay:
For know, to Sparta thy lov'd offspring came,
To learn thy fortunes from the voice of Fame.”
At this the father, with a father's care:
"Must he too suffer? he, O goddess! bear
Of wanderings and of woes a wretched share?
Thro' the wild ocean plough the dangerous way,
And leave his fortunes and his house a prey?
Why would'st not thou, O all-enlighten'd mind!
Inform him certain, and protect him, kind :”

To whom Minerva: "Be thy soul at rest;
And know, whatever Heaven ordains, is best.
To Fame I sent him, to acquire renown:
To other regions is his virtue known:
Secure he sits, near great Atrides plac'd;

With friendships strengthened, and with honours grac'd.

But lo! an ambush waits his passage o'er;
Fierce foes insidious intercept the shore:
In vain! for soouer all the murtherous brood
This injur'd land shall fatten with their blood."

She spake, then touch'd him with her powerful

wand:

The skin shrunk up, and wither'd at her hand:
A swift old age o'er all his members spread;
A sudden frost was sprinkled on his head;
Nor longer in the heavy eye-ball shin'd
The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind.
His robe, which spots indelible besmear,
In rags dishonest flutters with the air:

A stag's torn hide is lapp'd around his reins;
A rugged staff his trembling hand sustains;
And at his side a wretched scrip was hung,
Wide-patch'd, and knotted to a twisted thong.
So look'd the chief, so mov'd, to mortal eyes.
Object uncouth! a man of miscries!
While Pallas, cleaving the wide field of air,
To Sparta flies, Telemachus her care.

THE ODYSSEY.

BOOK XIV.

ARGUMENT.

THE CONVERSATION WITH EUMÆUS.

ULYSSES arrives in disguise at the house of Eumæus, where he is received, entertained, and lodged, with the utmost hospitality. The several discourses of that faithful old servant, with the feigned story told by Ulysses to conceal himself, and other conversations on various subjects, take up this entire book.

Bur he, deep musing, o'er the mountains stray'd Through mazy thickets of the woodland shade,

And cavern'd ways the shaggy coast along,
With cliffs and nodding forest over-hung..
Eumæus at his sylvan lodge he sought,
A faithful servant, and without a fault.
Ulysses found him busied, as he sate
Before the threshold of his rustic gate;
Around the mansion in a circle shone
A rural portico of rugged stone

(In absence of his lord, with honest toil
His own industrious hands had rais'd the pile).
The wall was stone from neighbouring quarries
Encircled with a fence of native thorn, [borne,
And strong with pales, by many a weary stroke
Of stubborn labour hewn from heart of oak;
Frequent and thick. Within the space were rear'd
Twelve ample cells, the lodgment of his herd.
Full fifty pregnant females cach contain’d;
The males without (a smaller race) remain'd;
Doom'd to supply the suitor's wasteful feast,
A flock by daily luxury decreas'd!

Now scarce four hundred left. These to defend,
Four savage dogs, a watchful guard, attend.
Here sate Eumæus, and his cares apply'd
To form strong buskins of well-season'd hide.
Of four assistants who his labour share,
Three now were absent on the rural care;
The fourth drove victims to the suitor train:
But he, of ancient faith, a simple swain,
Sigh'd, while he furnish'd the luxurious board,
And weary'd Heaven with wishes for his lord.
Soon as Ulysses near the enclosure drew,
With open mouths the furious mastiffs flew :
Down sate the sage, and cautious to withstand,
Let fall th' offensive truncheon from his hand.
Sudden, the master runs; aloud he calls;
And from his hasty hand the leather falls;
With showers of stones he drives them far away;
The scattering dogs around at distance bay.
"Unhappy stranger!" (thus the faithful swain
Began with accent gracious and humane)
"What sorrow had been mine, if at my gate
Thy reverend age had met a shameful fate!
Enough of woes already have I known;
Enough my master's sorrows and my own.
While here (ungrateful task!) his herds I feed,
Ordain'd for lawless rioters to bleed;
Perhaps, supported at another's board,
Far from his country roams my hapless lord!
Or sigh'd in exile forth his latest breath,
Now cover'd with th' eternal shade of death!
"But enter this my homely roof, and see
Our woods not void of hospitality.

Then tell me whence thou art? and what the share
Of woes and wanderings thou wert born to bear?”
He said, and, seconding the kind request,
With friendly step precedes his unknown guest.
A shaggy goat's soft hide beneath him spread,
And with fresh rushes heap'd an ample bed;
Joy touch'd the hero's tender soul, to find
So just reception from a heart so kind :
"And oh, ye gods! with all your blessings grace"
(He thus broke forth) "this friend of human race!"
The swain reply'd: "It never was our guise
To slight the poor, or aught humane despise;
For Jove unfolds our hospitable door,

'Tis Jove that sends the stranger and the poor.
Little, alas is all the good I can;

A man oppress'd, dependant, yet a man:
Accept such treatment as a swain affords,
Slave to the insolence of youthful lords!

Far hence is by unequal gods remov'd
That man of bounties, loving and belov'd!
To whom whate'er his slave enjoys is owd,
And tnore, had fate allow'd, had been bestow':
But fate condemns him to a foreign shore;
Much have I sorrow'd, but my master more,
Now cold he lies, to death's embrace resign'd:
Ah, perish Helen! perish all her kind!
For whose curs'd cause, in Agamemnou's name,
He trod so fatally the paths of fame.

"His vest succinct then giding round his

waist,

Forth rush'd the swain with hospitable haste,
Straight to the lodgments of his herd he run,
Where the fat porkers slept beneath the Sun;
Of two his cutlass lanch'd the spouting blood;
These quarter'd, sing'd, and fix'd on forks of
All hasty on the hissing coals he threw; [wood,
And smoking back the tasteful viands drew,
Broachers and all; then on the board display'd
The ready meal, before Ulysses laid

With flour imbrown'd; -next mingled wine yet new,
And Juscious as the bees' nectareous dew:
Then sate companion of the friendly feast,
With open look; and thus bespoke his guest

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Take, with free welcome, what our hands

prepare,

Such food as falis to simple servants' share;
The best our lords consume; those thoughtless
Rich without bounty, guilty without fears! [peers,
Yet sure the gods their impious acts detest,
And honour justice and the righteous breast,
Pirates and conquerors, of harden'd mind,
The foes of peace, and scourges of mankind,
To whom offending men are made a prey
When Jove in vengeance gives a land away;
Even these, when of their ill-got spoils possess'd,
Find sure tormentors in the guilty breast:
Some voice of god close whispering from within,
'Wretch this is villainy, and this is sin.'
But these, no doubt, some oracle explore,
That tells, the great Ulysses is no more.

"Hence springs their confidence, and from
our sighs

Their rapine strengthens, and their riots rise:
Constant as Jove the night and day bestows,
Bleeds a whole hecatomb, a vintage flows.
None match'd this hero's wealth, of all who reign
O'er the fair islands of the neighbouring main.
Nor all the monarchs whose far-dreaded sway
The wide extended continents obey:
First, on the main land, of Ulysses' breed
Twelve herds, twelve flocks, on ocean's margin feed;
As many stalls for shaggy goats are rear'd;
As many lodgments for the tusky herd;
Those foreign keepers guard: and here are seen
Twelve herds of goats that grace our utmost green;
To native pastors in their charge assign'd;
And mine the care to feed the bristly kind:
Each day the fattest bleeds of either herd,
All to the suitors' wasteful board preferr'd."

Thus he, benevolent: his unknown guest
With hunger keen devours the savoury feast;
While schemes of vengeance ripen in his breast
Silent and thoughtful while the board he ey'd,
Eumæus pours on high the purple tide;
The king with sing looks his joy express'd,
And thus the kind inviting host address'd:

Say now, what man is he, the man deplor'd So rich, so potent, whom you style your lord;

Late with such affluence and possessions blest,
And now in honour's glorious bed at rest?
Whoever was the warrior, he must be
To fame no stranger, nor perhaps to me;
Who (so the gods, and so the fates ordain'd)
Have wander'd many a sea, and many a land.”
"Small is the faith, the prince and queen ascribe"
(Reply'd Eumæus) "to the wandering tribe.
For needy strangers still to flattery fly,
And want too oft betrays the tongue to lye.
Each vagrant traveller that touches here,
Deludes with fallacies the royal ear,
To dear remembrance makes his image rise,
And calls the springing sorrows from her eyes.
Such thou may'st be. But he whose name you
Moulders in earth, or welters on the wave,
Or food for fish or dogs his reliques lie,
Or torn by birds are scatter'd through the sky.
So perish'd he and left (for ever lost)
Much woe to all but sure to ine the most.
So mild a master never shall I find ;
Less dear the parents whom I left behind,
Less soft my mother, less my father kind.
Not with such transport would my eyes run o'er,
Again to hail them in their native shore ;
As lov'd Ulysses once more to embrace,
Restor❜d and breathing in his natal place.
That name for ever dread, yet ever dear,
Even in his absence I pronounce with fear:
In my respect, he bears a prince's part;
But lives a very brother in my heart."

[crave

Thus spoke the faithful swain; and thus rejoin'd
The master of his grief, the man of patient mind:
"Ulysses, friend! shall view his old abodes
(Distrustful as thou art ;) nor doubt the gods.
Nor speak I rashly, but with faith averr'd,
And what I speak, attesting Heaven has heard.
If so, a cloke and vesture be my meed;
Till his return, no title shall I plead,
Though certain be my news, and great my need.
Whom want itself can force untruths to tell,
My soul detests him as the gates of Hell."

"Thou first be witness, hospitable Jove !
And every god inspiring social love;
And witness every household power that waits
Guards of these fires, and angel of these gates!
Ere the next Moon increase or this decay,
His ancient realms Ulysses shall survey,
In blood and dust each proud oppressor mourn,
And the lost glories of his house return."

"Nor shall that meed be thine, nor ever more
Shall lov'd Ulysses hail this happy shore"
(Replied Eumeus). "To the present hour
Now turn thy thoughts, and joys within our power.
From sad reflection let my soul repose;
The name of him awakes a thousand woes.
But guard him, gods! and to these arms restore!
Not his true consort can desire him more;
Not old Laertes, broken with despair;
Not young Telemachus, his blooming heir.
Alas, Telemachus! my sorrows flow
Afresh for thee, my second cause of woe!
Like some fair plaut set by a heavenly hand,
He grew, he flourish'd, and he blest the land;
In all the youth his father's image shin'd,
Bright in his person, brighter in his mind.
What man, or god, deceiv'd his better sense,
Far on the swelling seas to wander hence?
To distant Pylos hapless is he gone,
To seek his father's fate, and find his own!

For traitors wait his way, with dire design
To end at once the great Arcesian line.
But let us leave him to their wills above;
The fates of men are in the hand of Jove.
And now, my venerable guest! declare
Your name, your parents, and your native air.
Sincere from whence begun your course relate,
And to what ship I owe the friendly freight?"
Thus he and thus (with prompt invention bold)
The cautious chief his ready story told:

"On dark reserve what better can prevail,
Or from the fluent tongue produce the tale,
Than when two friends, alone, in peaceful place
Confer, and wines and cates the table grace;
But most, the kind inviter's cheerful face?
Thus might we sit, with social goblets crown'd,
Till the whole circle of the year goes round;
Not the whole circle of the year would close
My long narration of a life of woes. [I came
But such was Heaven's high will! Know then,
From sacred Crete, and from a sire of fame:
Castor Hylacides (the name he bore)
Belov'd and honour'd in his native shore ;
Blest in his riches, in his children more.
Sprung from a handmaid, from a bought embrace,
I shar'd his kindness with his lawful race:
But when that fate, which all must undergo,
From Earth remov'd him to the shades below;
The large domain his greedy sons divide,
And each was portion'd as the lots decide.
Little, alas! was left my wretched share,
Except a house, a covert from the air :
But what by niggard fortune was denied,
A willing widow's copious wealth supplied.
My valour was my plea, a gallant mind
That true to honour, never lagg'd behind
(The sex is ever to a soldier kind).

Now wasting years my former strength confound,
And added woes have bow'd me to the ground;
Yet by the stubble you may guess the grain,
And mark the ruins of no vulgar man.
Me, Pallas gave to lead the martial storm,
And the fair ranks of battle to deform:
Me, Mars inspir'd to turn the foe to flight,
And tempt the secret ambush of the night.
Let ghastly death in all his forms appear,
I saw him not, it was not mine to fear.
Before the rest I rais'd my ready steel;
The first I met, he yielded, or he fell.
But works of peace my soul disdain'd to bear,
The rural labour, or domestic care.

To raise the mast, the missile dart to wing,
And send swift arrows from the bounding string,
W'ere arts the gods made grateful to my mind;
Those gods, who turn (to various ends design'd)
The various thoughts and talents of mankind.
Before the Grecians touch'd the Trojan plain,
Nine times commander or by land or main,
In foreign fields I spread my glory far,
Great in the praise, rich in the spoils of war:
Thence charg'd with riches, as increas'd in fame,
To Crete return'd, an honourable name.
But when great Jove that direful war decreed,
Which rous'd all Greece, and inade the mighty
Our states myself and Idomen employ [bleed;
To lead their fleets, and carry death to Troy.
Nine years we warr'd; the tenth saw Hion fall;
Homeward we sail'd, but Heaven dispers'd us all.
One only month my wife enjoy'd my stay ;
So will'd the god who gives and takes away.