Now when with rosie fingers, th'early borne
And throwne through all the aire, appear'd the morne,
Ulysses' lov'd sonne from his bed appeard,
His weeds put on, and did about him gird
His sword that thwart his shoulders hung, and tied
To his faire feete faire shooes, and all parts plied
For speedie readinesse; who, when he trod
The open earth, to men shewd like a God.
The Heralds then he strait charg'd to consort
The curld-head Greekes with lowd calls to a Court.
They summon'd; th'other came in utmost haste;
Who all assembld and in one heape plac't,
He likewise came to councell, and did beare
In his faire hand his iron-headed speare.
Nor came alone, nor with men troopes prepar'd,
But two fleete dogs made both his traine and Guard.
Pallas supplied with her high wisedome's grace
(That all men's wants supplies) State's painted face.
His entring presence all men did admire;
Who tooke seate in the high throne of his Sire,
To which the grave Peeres gave him reverend way —
Amongst whom an Ægyptian Heroe
(Crooked with age, and full of skill) begun
The speech to all; who had a loved sonne
That with divine Ulysses did ascend
His hollow fleete to Troy, to serve which end
He kept faire horse and was a man at Armes,
And in the cruell Cyclop's sterne alarmes
His life lost by him in his hollow cave,
Whose entrailes open'd his abhorred grave
And made of him (of all Ulysses' traine)
His latest supper, being latest slaine.
His name was Antiphus. And this old man,
This crooked growne, this wise Ægyptian,
Had three sonnes more, of which one, riotous,
A wooer was, and calld Eurynomus;
The other two tooke both his owne wisht course.
Yet both the best fates weighd not downe the worse,
But left the old man mindfull still of mone —
Who, weeping, thus bespake the Session:
" Heare, Ithacensians, all I fitly say.
Since our divine Ulysses' parting day
Never was councell calld, nor session;
And now by whom is this thus undergone?
Whom did Necessitie so much compell
Of yong or old? Hath any one heard tell
Of any coming armie, that he thus now
May openly take boldnesse to avow,
First having heard it? Or will any here
Some motion for the publicke good preferre?
Some worth of note there is in this command,
And, me thinkes, it must be some good man's hand
That's put to it, that either hath direct
Meanes to assist, or, for his good affect,
Hopes to be happie in the proofe he makes —
And that Jove grant, what ere he undertakes.'
Telemachus (rejoycing much to heare
The good hope and opinion men did beare
Of his yong actions) no longer sat,
But longd t'approve what this man pointed at,
And make his first proofe in a cause so good.
And in the Councel's chiefe place up he stood,
When strait Pisenor (Herald to his Sire,
And learnd in counsels) felt his heart on fire
To heare him speake, and put into his hand
The Scepter that his Father did command.
Then (to the old Ægyptian turnd) he spoke:
" Father, not farre he is that undertooke
To call this councell; whom you soone shall know.
My selfe, whose wrongs my griefes will make me show,
Am he that author'd this assembly here.
Nor have I heard of any armie neare,
Of which, being first told, I might iterate,
Nor for the publicke good can aught relate.
Onely mine owne affaires all this procure,
That in my house a double ill endure —
One, having lost a Father so renownd,
Whose kind rule once with your command was crownd;
The other is what much more doth augment
His weightie losse, the ruine imminent
Of all my house by it, my goods all spent.
And of all this the wooers, that are sonnes
To our chiefe Peeres, are the Confusions,
Importuning my Mother's mariage
Against her will; nor dares their bloud's bold rage
Go to Icarius', her father's, Court,
That, his will askt in kind and comely sort,
He may endow his daughter with a dowre,
And she, consenting, at his pleasure's powre
Dispose her to a man that (thus behav'd)
May have fit grace, and see her honor sav'd;
But these in none but my house all their lives
Resolve to spend, slaughtring my sheepe and beeves,
And with my fattest goates lay feast on feast,
My generous wine consuming as they list.
A world of things they spoile, here wanting one
That like Ulysses quickly could set gone
These peace-plagues from his house, that spoile like warre —
Whom my powres are unfit to urge so farre,
My selfe immartiall. But had I the powre,
My will should serve me to exempt this houre
From out my life time. For, past patience,
Base deeds are done here, that exceed defence
Of any honor. Falling is my house,
Which you should shame to see so ruinous.
Reverence the censures that all good men give
That dwell about you, and for feare to live
Exposde to heaven's wrath (that doth ever pay
Paines, for joye's forfait), even by Jove I pray,
Or Themis, both which powres have to restraine
Or gather Councels, that ye will abstaine
From further spoile, and let me onely waste
In that most wretched griefe I have embrac't
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 Greeke, on me convert
Your like hostilitie and vengeance take
Of his ill on my life, and all these make
Joyne in that justice; but to see abusde
Those goods that do none ill, but being ill usde,
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 complaine
About the Citie, till my goods againe
(Oft askt) may be with all amends repaid.
But in the meane space your mis-rule hath laid
Griefes on my bosome, that can onely speake
And are denied the instant powre of wreake.
This said, his Scepter gainst the ground he threw,
And teares still'd from him; which mov'd all the crew.
The Court strooke silent, not a man did dare
To give a word that might offend his eare.
Antinous onely 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 yeares are past, and neare the fourth now drawes,
Since first she mocked the Peeres Achaian.
All she made hope, and promist every man,
Sent for us ever, left love's shew in nought,
But in her heart conceald another thought.
Besides, (as curious in her craft) her loome
She with a web charg'd, hard to overcome,
And thus bespake us: " Youths that seeke my bed,
Since my divine Spouse rests among the dead,
Hold on your suites but till I end, at most,
This funerall 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 Heroe, it shall decke
His royall corse, since I should suffer checke
In ill report of every common dame,
If one so rich should shew in death his shame. "
This speech she usde, and this did soone perswade
Our gentle mindes. But this a worke she made
So hugely long, undoing still in night
(By torches) all she did by daye's broade light,
That three yeares her deceit div'd past our view,
And made us thinke that all she faind was true.
But when the fourth yeare came, and those slie houres
That still surprise at length Dames' craftiest powres,
One of her women that knew all disclosde
The secret to us — that she still unlosde
Her whole daie's faire affaire in depth of night.
And then no further she could force her sleight,
But, of necessitie, her worke gave end.
And thus, by me, doth every other friend
Professing love to her reply to thee —
That even thy selfe, and all Greeks else, may see
That we offend not in our stay, but shee.
To free thy house then, send her to her Sire,
Commanding that her choice be left entire
To his election, and one settl'd will.
Nor let her vexe with her illusions still
Her friends that woo her, standing on her wit,
Because wise Pallas hath given wiles to it,
So full of Art, and made her understand
All workes in faire skill of a Ladie's hand.
But (for her working mind) we reade of none
Of all the old world, in which Greece hath showne
Her rarest peeces, that could equall her:
Tyro, Alcmena and Mycena were
To hold comparison in no degree
(For solide braine) with wise Penelope.
And yet in her delayes of us she showes
No profit's skill, with all the wit she owes;
For all this time thy goods and victuals go
To utter ruine, and shall ever so
While thus the Gods her glorious mind dispose.
Glorie her selfe may gaine, but thou shalt lose
Thy longings even 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'endlesse stay
Of some one of us, that to all the rest
May give free farewell with his nuptiall feast."
The wise yong Prince replide: " Antinous!
I may by no meanes turne out of my house
Her that hath brought me forth and nourisht me.
Besides, if quicke or dead my Father be
In any region, yet abides in doubt.
And twill go hard (my meanes being so runne out)
To tender to Icarius againe
(If he againe my mother must maintaine
In her retreate) the dowre she brought with her.
And then a double ill it will conferre,
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 performe this counsell. If your splene
Swell at my courses, once more I command
Your absence from my house. Some other's hand
Charge with your banquets. On your owne goods eate,
And either other mutually intreate
At either of your houses with your feast.
But if ye still esteeme more sweete and best
Another's spoile, so you still wreaklesse live,
Gnaw (vermine-like) things sacred, no lawes give
To your devouring — it remaines that I
Invoke each ever-living Deitie,
And vow, if Jove shall daigne in any date
Powre of like paines for pleasures so past rate,
From thenceforth looke, where ye have reveld so
Unwreakt, your ruines all shall undergo."
Thus spake Telemachus, t'assure whose threat
Farre-seeing Jove upon their pinions set
Two Eagles from the high browes of a hill,
That, mounted on the winds, together still
Their strokes extended. But, arriving now
Amidst the Councell, over every brow
Shooke their thicke wings, and (threatning death's cold feares)
Their neckes and cheekes tore with their eager Seres.
Then on the Court's right-hand away they flew,
Above both Court and Citie — with whose view
And studie what events they might foretell
The Councell into admiration fell.
The old Heroe, Halitherses then,
The sonne of Nestor, that of all old men
(His Peeres in that Court) onely could foresee
By flight of fowles man's fixed destinie,
Twixt them and their amaze this interposde:
" Heare, Ithacensians, all your doubts disclosde.
The wooers most are toucht in this ostent,
To whom are dangers great and imminent.
For now not long more shall Ulysses beare
Lacke of his most lov'd, but fils some place neare,
Addressing to these wooers Fate and Death.
And many more this mischiefe menaceth
Of us inhabiting this famous Ile.
Let us consult yet, in this long forewhile,
How to our selves we may prevent this ill.
Let these men rest secure and revell still —
Though they might find it safer, if with us
They would in time prevent what threats them thus,
Since not without sure triall I foretell
These coming stormes, but know their issue well.
For to Ulysses all things have event
As I foretold him, when for Ilion went
The whole Greeke fleete together and with them
Th'abundant in all counsels tooke the streame.
I told him that, when much ill he had past
And all his men were lost, he should at last
The twentith yeare turne home, to all unknowne —
All which effects are to perfection growne."
Eurymachus, the sonne of Polybus,
Opposde this man's presage, and answerd thus:
" Hence, Great in yeares; go prophecie at home;
Thy children teach to shun their ils to come.
In these superiour farre to thee am I.
A world of fowles beneath the Sunne-beames flie
That are not fit t'enforme a prophecie.
Besides, Ulysses perisht long ago —
And would thy fates to thee had destin'd so,
Since so thy so much prophecie had spar'd
Thy wronging of our rights, which, for reward
Expected home with thee, hath summon'd us
Within the anger of Telemachus.
But this will I presage, which shall be true,
If any sparke of anger chance t'ensue
Thy much old art in these deepe Auguries
In this yong man, incensed by thy lies,
Even to himselfe his anger shall conferre
The greater anguish, and thine owne ends erre
From all their objects: and, besides, thine age
Shall feele a paine to make thee curse presage
With worthy cause, for it shall touch thee neare.
But I will soone give end to all our feare,
Preventing whatsoever chance can fall,
In my suite to the yong Prince for us all,
To send his mother to her father's house,
That he may sort her out a worthy spouse,
And such a dowre bestow as may befit
One lov'd to leave her friends and follow it.
Before which course be, I beleeve that none
Of all the Greekes will cease th'ambition
Of such a match. For, chance what can to us,
We no man feare — no, not Telemachus,
Though ne're so greatly spoken. Nor care we
For any threats of austere prophecie
Which thou, old dotard, vantst of so in vaine.
And thus shalt thou in much more hate remaine,
For still the Gods shall beare their ill expence,
Nor ever be disposde by competence,
Till with her nuptials she dismisse our suites.
Our whole lives' dayes shall sow hopes for such fruites.
Her vertues we contend to, nor will go
To any other, be she never so
Worthy of us, and all the worth we owe."
He answerd him: " Eurymachus, and all
Ye generous wooers, now, in generall,
I see your brave resolves, and will no more
Make speech of these points, and, much lesse, implore.
It is enough that all the Grecians here,
And all the Gods besides, just witnesse beare
What friendly premonitions have bene spent
On your forbearance, and their vaine event.
Yet with my other friends let love prevaile
To fit me with a vessell free of saile,
And twentie men, that may divide to me
My readie passage through the yeelding sea.
For Sparta, and Amathoan Pylos' shore
I now am bound, in purpose to explore
My long-lackt Father and to trie if Fame
(Or Jove, most author of man's honourd name)
With his returne and life may glad mine eare,
Though toild in that proofe I sustaine a yeare.
If dead I heare him, nor of more state, here
(Retir'd to my lov'd countrie) I will rere
A Sepulcher to him and celebrate
Such royall parent-rites as fits his state.
And then my mother to a Spouse dispose."
This said, he sat; and to the rest arose
Mentor, that was Ulysses' chosen friend,
To whom, when he set forth, he did commend
His compleate family, and whom he willd
To see the mind of his old Sire fulfild,
All things conserving safe till his retreate —
Who (tender of his charge, and seeing so set
In sleight care of their King his subjects there,
Suffering his sonne so much contempt to beare),
Thus gravely and with zeale to him began:
" No more let any Scepter-bearing man
Benevolent, or milde, or humane be,
Nor in his minde forme acts of pietie,
But ever feed on blood, and facts unjust
Commit even to the full swinge of his lust,
Since of divine Ulysses no man now
Of all his subjects any thought doth show.
All whom he governd, and became to them
(Rather than one that wore a diadem)
A most indulgent father. But (for all
That can touch me) within no envie fall
These insolent wooers, that in violent kind
Commit things foule by th'ill wit of the mind,
And, with the hazard of their heads, devoure
Ulysses' house, since his returning houre
They hold past hope. But it affects me much,
Ye dull plebeians, that all this doth touch
Your free States nothing, who (strooke dumbe) afford
These wooers not so much wreake as a word,
Though few, and you with onely number might
Extinguish to them the prophaned light."
Evenor's sonne, Leocritus, replide:
" Mentor! the railer, made a foole with pride!
What language giv'st thou that would quiet us
With putting us in storme, exciting thus
The rout against us? — who, though more than we,
Should find it is no easie victorie
To drive men habited in feast from feasts —
No, not if Ithacus himselfe such guests
Should come and find so furnishing his Court
And hope to force them from so sweete a fort.
His wife should little joy in his arrive,
Though much she wants him: for, where she alive
Would hers enjoy, there Death should claime his rights:
He must be conquerd that with many fights.
Thou speakst unfit things. To their labours then
Disperse these people, and let these two men,
Mentor and Halitherses, that so boast
From the beginning to have governd most
In friendship of the Father, to the sonne
Confirme the course he now affects to runne.
But my mind sayes that, if he would but use
A little patience, he should here heare newes
Of all things that his wish would understand,
But no good hope for of the course in hand."
This said, the Councell rose, when every Peere
And all the people in dispersion were
To houses of their owne; the wooers yet
Made to Ulysses' house their old retreat.
Telemachus, apart from all the prease,
Prepar'd to shore, and (in the aged seas
His faire hands washt) did thus to Pallas pray:
" Heare me, O Goddesse, that but yesterday
Didst daigne accesse to me at home and lay
Grave charge on me to take ship and enquire
Along the darke seas for mine absent Sire —
Which all the Greekes oppose, amongst whom, most
Those that are proud still at another's cost,
Past measure and the civill rights of men,
My mother's wooers, my repulse maintaine."
Thus spake he praying, when close to him came
Pallas, resembling Mentor both in frame
Of voice and person, and advisde him thus:
" Those wooers well might know, Telemachus,
Thou wilt not ever weake and childish be,
If to thee be instilld the facultie
Of mind and bodie that thy Father grac't.
And if (like him) there be in thee enchac't
Vertue to give words works, and works their end,
This voyage that to them thou didst commend
Shall not so quickly, as they idly weene,
Be vaine, or given up for their opposite spleene.
But if Ulysses nor Penelope
Were thy true parents, I then hope in thee
Of no more urging thy attempt in hand;
For few that rightly bred on both sides stand
Are like their parents, many that are worse,
And most-few, better. Those then that the nurse
Or mother call true-borne, yet are not so,
Like worthy Sires much lesse are like to grow.
But thou shewst now that in thee fades not quite
Thy Father's wisedome, and that future light
Shall therefore shew thee farre from being unwise
Or toucht with staine of bastard cowardize.
Hope therefore sayes that thou wilt to the end
Pursue the brave act thou didst erst intend.
But for the foolish wooers, they bewray
They neither counsell have nor soule, since they
Are neither wise nor just, and so must needs
Rest ignorant how blacke above their heads
Fate hovers, holding Death, that one sole day
Will make enough to make them all away.
For thee, the way thou wishest shall no more
Flie thee a step; I that have bene before
Thy Father's friend thine likewise now will be,
Provide thy ship my selfe, and follow thee.
Go thou then home, and sooth each wooer's vaine,
But under hand fit all things for the Maine —
Wine, in as strong and sweete casks as you can,
And meale, the very marrow of a man,
Which put in good sure lether sacks, and see
That with sweete foode sweete vessels still agree.
I from the people straite will presse for you
Free voluntaries, and, for ships, enow
Sea-circl'd Ithaca containes both new
And old built; all which I'le exactly view
And chuse what one soever most doth please;
Which riggd, wee'l strait lanch and assay the seas."
This spake Jove's daughter, Pallas; whose voice heard,
No more Telemachus her charge deferd,
But hasted home, and, sad at heart, did see
Amidst his Hall, th'insulting wooers flea
Goates and rost swine. Mongst whom, Antinous
Carelesse (discovering in Telemachus
His grudge to see them) laught, met, tooke his hand,
And said: " High spoken! with the mind so mannd!
Come, do as we do; put not up your spirits
With these low trifles, nor our loving merits
In gall of any hatefull purpose steepe,
But eate egregiously, and drinke as deepe.
The things thou thinkst on, all at full shall be
By th'Achives thought on, and performd to thee —
Ship and choise Oares that in a trice will land
Thy hastie Fleete on heav'nly Pylos' sand,
And at the fame of thy illustrous Sire."
He answerd: " Men whom Pride doth so inspire
Are no fit consorts for an humble guest,
Nor are constraind men merrie at their feast.
Is't not enough that all this time ye have
Op't in your entrailes my chiefe goods a grave,
And while I was a child made me partake?
My now more growth more grown my mind doth make.
And (hearing speake more judging men than you)
Perceive how much I was misgovernd now.
I now will trie if I can bring ye home
An ill Fate to consort you, if it come
From Pylos, or amongst the people here.
But thither I resolve, and know that there
I shall not touch in vaine. Nor will I stay,
Though in a merchant's ship I stere my way —
Which shewes in your sights best, since me ye know
Incapable of ship or men to row."
This said, his hand he coily snatcht away
From forth Antinous' hand. The rest the day
Spent through the house with banquets, some with jests
And some with railings dignifying their feasts.
To whom a jest-proud youth the wit began:
" Telemachus will kill us every man.
From Sparta or the very Pylian sand
He will raise aides to his impetuous hand.
O he affects it strangely! Or he meanes
To search Ephyra's fat shores and from thence
Bring deathfull poisons, which amongst our bowls
Will make a generall shipwracke of our soules."
Another said: " Alas, who knowes but he
Once gone, and erring like his Sire at sea,
May perish like him farre from aide of friends?
And so he makes us worke, for all the ends
Left of his goods here we shall share, the house
Left to his mother and her chosen Spouse."
Thus they — while he a roome ascended, hie
And large, built by his Father, where did lie
Gold and brasse heapt up, and in coffers were
Rich robes, great store of odorous oiles, and there
Stood Tuns of sweete old wines along the wall,
Neate and divine drinke, kept to cheare withall
Ulysses' old heart, if he turnd againe
From labors fatall to him to sustaine.
The doores of Planke were, their close exquisite,
Kept with a double key, and day and night
A woman lockt within, and that was she
Who all trust had for her sufficiencie,
Old Euryclea (one of Opis' race,
Sonne to Pisenor, and in passing grace
With gray Minerva). Her, the Prince did call,
And said: " Nurse! draw me the most sweete of all
The wine thou keepst, next that which for my Sire
Thy care reserves, in hope he shall retire.
Twelve vessels fill me forth, and stop them well.
Then into well-sewd sacks, of fine ground meale
Powre twentie measures. Nor to any one
But thou thy selfe let this designe be knowne.
All this see got together; I it all
In night will fetch off, when my mother shall
Ascend her high roome and for sleepe prepare.
Sparta and Pylos I must see, in care
To find my Father." Out Euryclea cried,
And askt with teares: " Why is your mind applied,
Deare sonne, to this course? Whither will you go?
So farre off leave us, and beloved so,
So onely? And the sole hope of your race?
Royall Ulysses, farre from the embrace
Of his kind countrie, in a land unknowne
Is dead, and you from your lov'd countrie gone,
The wooers will with some deceit assay
To your destruction, making then their prey
Of all your goods. Where in your owne y'are strong,
Make sure abode. It fits not you, so yong,
To suffer so much by the aged seas
And erre in such a waylesse wildernesse."
" Be chear'd, lov'd nurse," said he, " for not without
The will of God go my attempts about.
Sweare therefore not to wound my mother's eares
With word of this before from heaven appeares
Th'eleventh or twelfth light, or her selfe shall please
To aske of me, or heares me put to seas —
Lest her faire bodie with her woe be wore."
To this the great oath of the Gods she swore;
Which having sworne, and of it every due
Performd to full, to vessels wine she drew,
And into well-sewd sacks powr'd foodie meale.
In meane time he (with cunning to conceale
All thought of this from others) himselfe bore
In broade house, with the wooers, as before.
Then grey-eyd Pallas other thoughts did owne,
And (like Telemachus) trod through the Towne,
Commanding all his men in th'even to be
Aboord his ship. Againe then question'd she
Noemon (fam'd for aged Phronius' sonne)
About his ship, who all things to be done
Assur'd her freely should. The Sunne then set,
And sable shadowes slid through every streete,
When forth they lancht, and soone aboord did bring
All Armes and choice of every needfull thing
That fits a well-riggd ship. The Goddesse then
Stood in the Port's extreame part, where her men
(Nobly appointed) thicke about her came,
Whose every breast she did with spirit enflame.
Yet still fresh projects laid the grey-eyd Dame.
Strait to the house she hasted, and sweete sleepe
Powr'd on each wooer, which so laid in steepe
Their drowsie temples that each brow did nod
As all were drinking; and each hand his lode
(The cup) let fall. All start up, and to bed,
Nor more would watch when sleepe so surfeted
Their leaden ey-lids. Then did Pallas call
Telemachus (in bodie, voice, and all
Resembling Mentor) from his native nest,
And said that all his arm'd men were addrest
To use their Oares, and all expected now
He should the spirit of a souldier show.
" Come then," said she, " no more let us deferre
Our honor'd action." Then she tooke on her
A ravisht spirit and led as she did leape,
And he her most haste tooke out, step by step.
Arriv'd at sea and ship, they found ashore
The souldiers, that their fashiond long haire wore,
To whom the Prince said: " Come, my friends, let's bring
Our voyage's provision: everything
Is heapt together in our Court, and none
(No, not my mother, nor her maids) but one
Knowes our intention." This exprest, he led;
The souldiers close together followed,
And all together brought aboord their store.
Aboord the Prince went, Pallas still before
Sat at the Sterne, he close to her, the men
Up hasted after. He and Pallas then
Put from the shore. His souldiers then he bad
See all their Armes fit, which they heard and had.
A beechen Mast then in the hollow base
They put, and hoisted, fixt it in his place
With cables, and with well-wreath'd halsers hoise
Their white sailes, which gray Pallas now employes
With full and fore-gales through the darke deep maine.
The purple waves (so swift cut) roar'd againe
Against the ship sides, that now ranne and plowd
The rugged seas up. Then the men bestowd
Their Armes about the ship, and sacrifice
With crownd wine cups to th'endlesse Deities
They offerd up. Of all yet thron'd above,
They most observ'd the grey-eyd seed of Jove,
Who from the evening till the morning rose,
And all day long, their voyage did dispose.