But she thy absence mourns from day to day,
And inly bleeds, and silent wastes away:
Elusive of the bridal hour, she gives
Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives."
To this Ulysses: "O celestial maid!
Praised be thy counsel, and thy timely aid:
Else had I seen my native walls in vain,
Like great Atrides, just restored 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 leagued 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 loathed 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 realms my cares convey,
To Sparta, still with female beauty gay:
For know, to Sparta thy loved 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?
Through 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 placed;
With friendships strengthen'd, and with honours graced.
But lo! an ambush waits his passage o'er ;
Fierce foes insidious intercept the shore:
In vain; far sooner all the murderous brood
This injured 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 shined
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 moved to mortal eyes
Object uncouth! a man of miseries!
While Pallas, cleaving the wide fields of air,
To Sparta flies, Telemachus her care.
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.
BUT 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 forests overhung.
Eumæus at his sylvan lodge he sought,1
A faithful servant, and without a fault.
1 Eumæus. The following observations are at once just, pertinent, and interesting:
Eumæus is a character less within the reach of modern imitation than any other in the Odyssey. He is a genuine country gentleman of the age of Homer, living at a distance from the town, having servants or labourers under him, but being at the same time the principal herdsman and superintendent of the swine belonging to Ulysses, which of course constituted an important article of the hero's property. He had come a stranger to Ithaca, and Ulysses had been his patron and friend; these circumstances are evidently ingredients in the jealous dislike with which Melanthius and the suitors regard him. He is professedly of the old party, and is independent enough to act boldly upon his own principles. I think professor Æoliades has great reason to be proud of his descent from this most respectable man. The scenes in his house are unequalled in their way, and are as remarkably different from the poetical rusticities of Theocritus and Virgil as they are from the coarseness of real life passed in low country occupations. There is a dignity and a philosophical elevation given to Eumæus, which without injuring the natural colouring of his manners, throws the light of poetry around them; and, after a very slight acquaintance with him, we repeat the δῖος ὑφορβός (divine or noble swineherd), and the ὄρχαμος ἀνδρῶν (leader of
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 raised the pile).
The wall was stone from neighbouring quarries borne,
Encircled with a fence of native thorn,
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 lodgments of his herd.
Full fifty pregnant females each contain❜d;
The males without (a smaller race) remain'd;
Doom'd to supply the suitors' wasteful feast,
A stock by daily luxury decreased;
Now scarce four hundred left. These to defend,
Four savage dogs, a watchful guard, attend.
Here sat Eumæus, and his cares applied
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 wearied Heaven with wishes for his lord.
Soon as Ulysses near th' inclosure 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.
men), not only without any sense of ridiculous incongruity, but with a hearty feeling of their moral propriety. The character of Eumæus is a very complete conception, and a remarkably interesting specimen of rural life and its habits in the very remote age in which it was produced."-Coleridge, p. 269.
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!
ULYSSES CONVERSING WITH EUMÆUS.
"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 replied: "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, dependent, yet a man:
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