And twelve young mules, a strong laborious race, New to the plough, unpractis'd in the trace.
Unknowing of the course to Pyle design'd,
A sudden horror seiz'd on either mind:. The prince in rural bower they fondly thought, Numbering his flocks and herds, not far remote. 865 Relate, Antinoüs cries, devoid of guile,
When spread the prince his sail for distant Pyle? Did chosen chiefs across the gulfy main Attend his voyage, or domestic train?
Spontaneous did you speed his secret course, Or was the vessel seiz'd by fraud or force?
With willing duty, not reluctant mind (Noëmon cry'd), the vessel was resign'd. Who, in the balance, with the great affairs Of courts, presume to weigh their private cares? 875 With him, the peerage next in power to you; And Mentor, captain of the lordly crew, Or some celestial in his rev'rend form, Safe from the secret rock and adverse storm, Pilots their course; for when the glimmering ray 880 Of yester dawn disclos'd the tender day, Mentor himself I saw, and much admir'd.Then ceas'd the youth, and from the court retir'd.
Confounded and appall'd, th' unfinish'd game
The suitors quit, and all to council came. Antinoüs first th' assembled peers addrest, Rage sparkling in his eyes, and burning in his breast. O shame to manhood! shall one daring boy The scheme of all our happiness destroy? Fly unperceiv'd, seducing half the flower Of nobles, and invite a foreign power? The ponderous engine rais'd to crush us all, Recoiling, on his head is sure to fall. Instant prepare me, on the neighbouring strand, With twenty chosen mates a vessel mann'd; For ambush'd close beneath the Samian shore His ship returning shall my spies explore: He soon his rashness shall with life atone, Seek for his father's fate, but find his own.
With vast applause the sentence all approve; 900
Then rise, and to the feastful hall remove:
Swift to the queen the herald Medon ran, Who heard the consult of the dire divan
Before her dome the royal matron stands, And thus the message of his haste demands. What will the suitors? must my servant-train
Th' allotted labours of the day refrain, For them to form some exquisite repast? Heaven grant this festival may prove their last! Or, if they still must live, from me remove The double plague of luxury and love! Forbear, ye sons of insolence! forbear, In riot to consume a wretched heir.
In the young soul illustrious thought to raise, Were ye not tutor'd with Ulysses' praise? Have not your fathers oft my lord defin'd, Gentle of speech, beneficent of mind? Some kings with arbitrary rage devour, Or in their tyrant-minions vest the power:
Ulysses let no partial favours fall,
The people's parent, he protected all:
But absent now, perfidious and ingrate!
His stores ye ravage, and usurp his state.
He thus: O were the woes you speak the worst!
They form a deed more odious and accurst; More dreadful than your boding soul divines: But pitying Jove avert the dire designs! The darling object of your royal care Is mark'd to perish in a deathful snare; Before he anchors in his native port, From Pyle re-sailing and the Spartan court; Horrid to speak! in ambush is decreed The hope and heir of Ithaca to bleed!
Sudden she sunk beneath the weighty woes, The vital streams a chilling horror froze: The big round tear stands trembling in her eye, And on her tongue imperfect accents die. At length, in tender language, interwove With sighs, she thus express'd her anxious love: Why rashly would my son his fate explore, Ride the wild waves, and quit the safer shore?
Did he, with all the greatly wretched, crave A blank oblivion, and untimely grave?
'Tis not, reply'd the sage, to Medon given To know, if some inhabitant of heaven
In his young breast the daring thought inspir'd; Or if, alone with filial duty fir'd,
The winds and waves he tempts in early bloom, Studious to learn his absent father's doom.
The sage retir'd: unable to controul The mighty griefs that swell her labouring soul, -Rolling convulsive on the floor, is seen The piteous object of a prostrate queen. Words to her dumb complaint a pause supplies, And breath, to waste in unavailing cries. Around their sovereign wept the menial fair, To whom she thus address'd her deep despair. Behold a wretch whom all the gods consign
To woe! Did ever sorrows equal mine? Long to my joys my dearest lord is lost, His country's buckler, and the Grecian boast: Now from my fond embrace, by tempests torn, Our other column of the state is borne; Nor took a kind adieu, nor sought consent!- Unkind confederates in his dire intent! Ill suits it with your shows of duteous zeal, From me the purpos'd voyage to conceal: Though at the solemn midnight hour he rose, Why did you fear to trouble my repose? He either had obey'd my fond desire, Or seen his mother, pierc'd with grief, expire. Bid Dolius quick attend, the faithful slave Whom to my nuptial train Icarius gave, To tend the fruit-groves: with incessant speed He shall this violence of death decreed To good Laërtes tell. Experienc'd age May timely intercept their ruffian rage. Convene the tribes, the murderous plot reveal, And to their power to save his race appeal.
Then Euryclea thus. My dearest dread! Though to the sword I bow this hoary head, Or if a dungeon be the pain decreed, I own me conscious of th' unpleasing deed: Auxiliar to his flight, my aid implor'd, With wine and viands I the vessel stor'd:
A solemn oath, impos'd, the secret seal'd, Till the twelfth dawn the light of heaven reveal'd.
Dreading th' effect of a fond mother's fear, He dar'd not violate your royal ear.
But bathe, and, in imperial robes array'd, Pay due devotions to the martial maid *, And rest affianc'd in her guardian aid. Send not to good Laërtes, nor engage In toils of state the miseries of age : 'Tis impious to surmise, the powers divine To ruin doom the Jove-descended line: Long shall the race of just Arcesius reign, And isles remote enlarge his old domain.
The queen her speech with calm attention hears,
Her eyes restrain the silver-streaming tears: She bathes, and, rob'd, the sacred dome ascends; Her pious speed a female train attends : The salted cakes in canisters are laid, And thus the queen invokes Minerva's aid.
Daughter divine of Jove, whose arm can wield Th' avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield ! If e'er Ulysses to thy fane preferr'd The best and choicest of his flock and herd; Hear, goddess, hear, by those oblations won; And for the pious sire preserve the son: His wish'd return with happy power befriend, And on the suitors let thy wrath descend.
She ceas'd; shrill ecstasies of joy declare The favouring goddess present to the prayer: The suitors heard, and deem'd the mirthful voice A signal of her hymeneal choice: Whilst one most jovial thus accosts the board: "Too late the queen selects a second lord; " In evil hour the nuptial rite intends, " When o'er her son disastrous death impends." Thus he unskill'd of what the fates provide ! 1021 But with severe rebuke Antinoüs cry'd.
These empty vaunts will make the voyage vain ;
Alarm not with discourse the menial train: The great event with silent hope attend; Our deeds alone our counsel must commend.
His speech thus ended short, he frowning rose, And twenty chiefs renown'd for valour chose: Down to the strand he speeds with haughty strides, Where anchor'd in the bay the vessel rides,
Replete with mail and military store, In all her tackle trim to quit the shore. The desperate crew ascend, unfurl the sails (The seaward prow invites the tardy gales); Then take repast, till Hesperus display'd His golden circlet in the western shade.
Meantime the queen, without refection due, Heart-wounded, to the bed of state withdrew: In her sad breast the prince's fortunes roll, And hope and doubt alternate seize her soul. So when the woodman's toil her cave surrounds, And with the hunter's cry the grove resounds; With grief and rage the mother-lion stung, Fearless herself, yet trembles for her young.
While pensive in the silent slumberous shade, Sleep's gentle powers her drooping eyes invade; Minerva, life-like, on embodied air Impress'd the form of Iphthima the fair (Icarius' daughter she, whose blooming charms Allur'd Eumelus to her virgin arms; A scepter'd lord, who o'er the fruitful plain Of Thessaly, wide stretch'd his ample reign): As Pallas will'd, along the sable skies, To calm the queen, the phantom-sister flies. Swift on the regal dome descending right, The bolted valves are pervious to her flight. Close to her head the pleasing vision stands, And thus performs Minerva's high commands.
O why, Penelope, this causeless fear, To render sleep's soft blessing unsincere ? Alike devote to sorrow's dire extreme The day-reflection, and the midnight-dream! Thy son the gods propitious will restore, And bid thee cease his absence to deplore.
To whom the queen (whilst yet her pensive mind
Was in the silent gates of sleep confin'd): O sister, to my soul for ever dear,
Why this first visit to reprove my fear?
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