Ithaca: the seashore. Thick mist thro’ which Ulysses
can scarcely be discerned asleep under a tree. In the
foreground, Athena.
This day, the last of twenty fateful years,
Fulfils the toil and wanderings of the Greeks,
Who sailed with Agamemnon against Troy
To win back Argive Helen; for to-day
Ulysses, last and most despaired of all,
Is safe again in Ithaca: and in truth
Have I, Athena, though the wisest power
And mightiest in Olympus, striven long
In heaven and earth to save him from the wrath
10Of great Poseidon; but at length my will
Nears its accomplishment, for on this isle164
Of Ithaca was he at break of morn
Landed by good Phæacian mariners,
Who ply the convoys of the dangerous sea;
Even as they promised him, their king and queen,
Alcinous and Aretè, honouring him
With loving gifts, tripods of bronze and iron,
Raiment and bowls of gold: thro’ blackest night,
And the confusion of the baffling waters,
20With sail and oar urging their keel they bore him,
Who all the while wrapt in sound slumber lay
Deep likest death; and in that trance they laid him
Beneath yon olive tree, and, by his feet,
The gifts they brought: there may ye see him lying,
And there the gifts: and yet ye scarce may see,
With so thick darkness have I drenched the air,
Lest when he wake, the sight and sweet desire
Of home supplant his cunning, and he rise
Forthwith, and entering suddenly his house
30Fall by the treachery of the infatuate lords,
Who prey there on his substance unrestrained,
Sitting in idle suit to woo his wife,
Who weeps his fate unknown; and thus my will
At last were crossed. So hither am I come
Myself to break the sleep I sent, and warn him
Against his foes. And now must I awake him;
But first will doff my helmet, and appear165
In mortal semblance, as a delicate youth,
Some prince of the isle: so shall my javelin,
40Long robe and shining sandals not betray
My godhead. He to me, disguised and strange,
Will answer nothing truly, nor believe
What truth I tell: ’tis thus I love to prove him,
And catch his ready mind at unawares.
Wake, merchant, wake, awake; whoe’er thou beest,
That sleepest thus so nigh the public road:
Arouse thee, man, and guard thy store: Look to it!
Ay, if some passer-by have not already
Filched from thee a sad loan of bronze or iron.
For though we reverence Zeus, thou giv’st occasion
51To make a thief even of an honest man.
Hail, friend, whom first my waking eyes behold
Here in this land: and since thou speakest friendly,
Prove now my friend, and show how best to save
These few things, ay, and save myself, being here
Without thee friendless. And, I prithee, tell me
What land is this? What people dwell herein?
Is it an island, or some mainland shore
That from its fertile plains shelves to the deep?
60Ath. What hast thou asked, man? Couldst thou hither come,166
Not shipwrecked, as is plain, and yet not know
Our famous isle? Not so am I deceived.
Thyself tell rather who thou art and whence,
Else learn’st thou nought of me: And speak but truth.
Ill speeds entreaty on a lying tongue.
Ul. Indeed I speak but truth, friend, when I say
I know not where I stand; as thou must grant
At hearing how I came: for from wide Crete
Have I fared over sea with these my goods—
70Where to my sons I left as much again,
When thence I fled in fear, because I slew
The noble and swift-footed prince of Crete,
Orsilochus, son of Idomeneus;
Who threatened to despoil me of the wealth
I won at Troy, suffering for many years
The woes of that long war; and all his grudge
Was that I had not served the king his father,
But kept my own retainers—for which thing
He would have robbed me: but I smote him dead.—
80Ath. Ah, king of ready wile, what tale is this
Of Crete and of thy sons, which when I bid thee
Speak truth, trips on thy tongue? Dost thou not know
Thy goddess, great Athena? Was’t not I
Who stirred the hearts of those Phæacian men
To bring thee hither? Wherefore in my ears
Pourest thou fables?
167
Ul.’Tis thy voice indeed,
Which tho’ my eyes were blinded, well I knew.
Voice of Athena, dearest of the gods!
Now with my soul I grasp thee, now I see,
90And worship thee, divine one, and thy knees
Embrace: but in this darkness and disguise
Not even a god had known thee; blame me not.
Ath. Nor for thy false tale to a stranger spoken?
Ul. Since thou who lackest cause hast more deceived.
And I—where were I now without my guile,
Without thy help?
Ath.If I should help thee still,
What wouldst thou ask?
Ul.Answer me.—Say, what shore
Is this I stand on, which is hidden from me
By so thick mist: whether they promised true
100Who brought me hither, and it be indeed
Ithaca, or whether, as I rather fear,
Some other land, to which my fated curse
Hales me, or ever I may see my own?
Ul.I pray thee by my longing
For that dear boon, goddess, deceive me not.
Ath. Thou dost not yet believe; but if I show thee
Thy very Ithaca, wilt thou believe?
Turn now and set thy back against the noise168
Of the stilly-moaning surge and look inland.
Ul.I see nought. ’Tis a thicker mist
Than ever in my own cloud-gathering isle
Clung to the frowning cliffs, when the warm south
Beat up the vapours from the seas at morn.
Ul.Now it brightens somewhat, or mine eye
Wearies with vainly poring on the dark.
Ul.Ay, the vapours lift, the highlands loom,
The air obeys thee: thro’ its thinning veils
The figure of some mountain jags the sky;
And those should be my hills: ’tis Neritos,
’Tis Ithaca indeed.
Ul. O Blessed Light, that unto all men’s eyes
Shewest the lands and waters: that uprisest
Day after day upon the windy seas
And fertile plains, valleys and lovely hills,
Rivers and shores, and heights and peopled towns;
Now in all Greece is no tongue praiseth thee
As mine, nor heart thanketh; nor any eye
Rejoicest thou as mine.
Ath.Turn now to left.169
There is the haven of Phorcys, here the tree,
130Thy well-remembered olive; and to right
The rock-roofed cave, where thou so oft hast done
Sweet sacrifice unto the native Nymphs.
Ul. Soil of my dear-desirèd fatherland,
For warrant that I dream not, take this kiss;
My home! And ye, dear sisters of the spring,
I raise my hands to you, whom nevermore
I looked to greet; but now, children of heaven,
As once of old I praise you, and henceforth
Will pay with loving vows, if your fair queen
140But grant me life, and comfort in my son.
Ul.See, there be the firs,
Which eastward of my house bar the red dawn
With black, and in their feathery tops at night
Sigh to the moon. Ay, and my house I see
Unchanged. ’Tis Ithaca.
Ath.Wilt thou not go
Now to thy home, and with the sweet surprise
Of thy desired return gladden thy wife,
And greet thy son, a man, whom thou didst leave
In cradle? See, I here will guard thy goods.
Thou wouldst be gone.
150Ul.Goddess, if strong desire
Could ever conquer me, now should I do170
A thing for which no man might blame me, nay
Even tho’ he pitied me, if too great longing
Should fool me to my ruin. But in my heart
Are other thoughts. The wife of Agamemnon
At his return welcomed the king with state,
And to his chamber led, but in the bath
Soon as he lay, giving him honied words,
She slew him with a dagger, to the deed
160Being prompted by her guilty paramour,
Ægisthus. Ten years numbered since that crime
Double the equal motive of my fear:
Nor can a woman, when her lord, tho’ loved,
Is long away, be trusted, that she should not
In weariness at last forsake her faith.
Wherefore I would not enter in my house,
Nay, nor be known of any, till I hear
Such tidings as bespeak my coming well.
Ath. O brave! thy wary mind has gone before,
170The way I would have led it: thou art as ever
Fore-reckoner with chance, to take thy stand
Armed at all points.
Ul.This fear, goddess, I learnt
Of blind Tiresias, when at Circe’s bidding
I sailed for south beyond the coasts of men,
To dark Cimmerian cloud-land, and I saw
The hapless king himself, who with thin voice171
Poured forth his wrongs; and many more I saw,
Who suffered pain: the tearful shadows penned
In mansions of austere Persephonè.
180From that old prophet’s tongue of warning weird
Still for myself in the end I gathered hope,
And treasured it, but from thy tongue fear ill.
Ath. Yet shouldst thou cherish all the words he spake.
Ul. I ask not now what shall be, but what is.
Beneath yon roof what passes? Thou canst give
Present assurance. Tell me then. My wife—
She is well?
Ul. Great are the gods in heaven! I need no more.
190Thee, Goddess, will I worship while I live.
Ath. And much thou needest me yet. Hark while I tell.
Three years thy house hath been the hostelry
Of dissolute and shameless men, the lords
And princes of the isles and western shores;
Who woo thy wife, and feasting in thy halls
Make waste of all thy substance day and night.172
As men besiege a city, and their host
Encamp about and let none out nor in,
Waiting the day when hunger and sore need,
200Sharper than iron and cruder than fire,
Shall bow the starvèd necks beneath the yoke:
So sit they there: and ’mong them is an oath
That none will leave till one be satisfied;
Whoe’er it be that in the end shall take
Thy fair wife, and thy house and goods and lands;
Which false and covetous oath, since all have shared,
Must be the death of all.
Ul.Now with thine aid
Shall they be scattered, were their cursed swarm
Thick as the rooks, which from his new-sown fields
210The husbandman a moment stays to scare,
Raising both hands.
Ath.Not so may they escape.
Better thou hadst not now returned, if one
Of all these men avoid his destined death.
Ul. How say’st thou, goddess, shall these men be slain?
Ath. How were Ulysses’ foes then wont to die?
Ath.Thou wert not used to fear.
Ul. Nay, but returned from exile and hard war,
I would not usher battle in my home.
173
Ath. Think’st thou of peace? Hadst thou but hence been stayed
220So long as shall suffice yon dying moon
To launch her young bark on the western sea,
Then had Penelope no more been thine.
Ul. Thou saidst that she was faithful.
Ath.She withstands
The urgence of the wooers day by day;
But ’gainst herself, to save thy house from loss,
Deeming thee dead indeed, now falls to yield.
Ul. Vengeance upon them! Grant me but thine aid,
And though they count by hundreds they shall die.
Ath. If one escape, his joy will be for thine.
230Ul. All shall be slain, though ’twere a task too heavy
For great Alcides. But my son in this
Should stand with me. May I not see him first?
Shall he not know me, and, in that embrace
I yearn for, knit his willing strength with mine?
Ath. Telemachus hath lately at my bidding
Sailed hence to Lacedæmon, there to inquire
What might be learnt of thee.
Ul.Was this well done,
Or kindly of thee, who couldst have told him all:
To send him far, upon a useless errand,
240Out of my sight, the eve of my return?
174
Ath. I sent him for his safety, there to win
Opinion too of such as knew him not,
And rouse remembrance of thee in the world.
To-day is he returned: I have brought his ship
North of the island, as was need, to shun
The wooers’ galley sent to take him; there
Is he disbarked alone. Thou mayst be first
To meet him.
Ath.Ah! thou forgettest.
If any one but he should see thy face?—
250Ul. Contrive then that I meet with him alone.
Ath. How if my plot were better, so that all
Might see thee, yet none know thee but thy son?
Ul. What manner of disguise is in thy thought?
Ath. Disfigurement, which thou mayst shrink to bear.
Ul. Ay, if my son behold me ill transformed.
Ath. Yet he alone shall see thee as thou art.
Ul. Then tell me, goddess, what thou wouldst: thou knowest
258Playing another’s part I am most myself.
Ath. But I will make thee now least like thyself.
Ul. How! shall I stoop then to be less than man?
Ath. Nay, but of men the vilest, though a man.
For that thou mayst be hidden, lo! I will change175
Thy outward seeming to the piteous aspect
Of age and beggary. Thy supple skin
I’ll wrinkle on thy joints, thy thick brown hair
Rob from thy head, and dim thy radiant eyes,
And o’er thy shoulders bowed cast sorry rags,
To make thee loathed of men. In such disguise
Mayst thou in safety seek thy herdsman’s hut,
270Eumæus: he is faithful, and with kindness
Will serve thee as a stranger in distress,
No less than he will welcome thee revealed.
Accept his food and shelter, and the while
Learn from his lips what friends thou hast to look for,
What foes to reckon with, what wrongs to avenge;
And humour as thou wilt his honest ears,
Awaiting till I thither send thy son.
Ul. When wilt thou send him?
Ath.He will come ere noon.
Ul. Then must he first behold me thus deformed?
Ath. He cannot know thee. Thou betray thyself
281No whit; I will be near and make occasion
To shew thee to him, as thou art, alone.
Ul. I have had no hope, goddess, but in thine aid:
Long as that tarried I despaired not then;
How should I, when thou comest, deny thee now?
Ath. Then first unto the cave, therein to stow
These goods; and after by this olive trunk176
Sit we awhile together: when thou hast heard
My counsel, I will work this change upon thee,
290That one who saw thee now of kingly port,
Hale and well-liking, ay, and bowed the head,
Should, when he next saw, spurn thee with his foot;
Thus must it be. Come, let us to the cave.
The hut of EUMÆUS. (Same background as Act I.)
Some swine seen thro’ pens.
EUMÆUS (who is cutting a thong for his sandal).
Let man serve God, but not for that require
An answerable favour: there is none
Outside himself: but yet within himself
He hath his guerdon and may be content.
Some three and thirty years of servitude
Have taught me this; dependence on the gods
300Wins independence of the gods and fate.
I that was born a prince have lived a slave,—
No fault of mine;—and still if Zeus so willed
That man might look for favour, I might hope
Once more, ere I grow old, to make return
Unto my royal home and kingly sire,
—If yet he lives,—and rule myself the realm
I was born heir to: be good king Eumæus,
So should it be, Eumæus, king of men.
309Nay—I must play the king over these swine;
This homestead for my kingdom, this hut for palace,
This bench my throne, these crowded pens and styes178
My city; and I will boast ’twere hard to find
A commonwealth of men, whom equal justice
Flattered in distribution to this pitch
Of general content, such fat well-being
As holds among my folk, their laws regardant
Of them they govern and their good alone.
Ay, so: a king of beasts, no king at all.
Swineherd Eumæus; who would call me king?
Fool, fool! Serve God, Eumæus, and mend thy shoes.
321And why complain? Had not Laertes too
A son that feared the gods? and where is he?
Would he not now be glad to be alive,
Were’t but to envy me who feed his swine,
And guard his goods from robbers, and pretend
The hope of his return; which is less like
For that Ulysses than for this Eumæus;—
There too I best him,—since ’tis easier
For any living slave to climb a throne,
330Than for a king once dead to step again
Upon the joyous threshold of his house,
And take the loving kisses from the lips
Of wife and child.—Hark to the hounds. What foe
Invades my kingdom? O a piteous sight.
Off, dogs;—why they will rend him—Mesaulius, ho!
Cottus, call off the dogs! Will they not leave him?
To kennel, curs!—Ye heavens! Beggary179
Is beggared in this miserable beggar.
Enter Ulysses (disguised).
How wast thou near, old man, to end thy days
Beside my gate, and bring me shame and sorrow:
341And that no fault of mine, so suddenly
Hast thou appeared. Come, come, sir; step within.
Surely ’tis food thou needest. On this table
Are bread and wine, and I can bring thee meat:
Sit and be satisfied.
Now may the gods,
Since thou this day giv’st me so good a welcome,
Grant thee thy dearest wish, whate’er it be.
Eum. Thou art my guest, old man: and if there came
A meaner even than thou, I should not stint
350To offer of my best. Strangers and beggars
Are sent from Zeus: and tho’ a poor man’s gift
Be poor, a hearty welcome makes it rich.
Ul. I pray the gods reward thee.
Eum.Nay, there’s the meat;
I’ll fetch it thee. [Exit.
Ul.Was ever sound on earth
So musical as the remembered voice
That welcomes home? By heaven, ’twas yesterday
That I was here. No change at all: this bench,180
This board:—the very hogs might be the same.
O my good bread and wine! And here’s his loaf,
360The shape he ever made; and cut the same,
Scooped to the thumb. Hail, grape of Ithaca!
Good day to thee! (Drinks.)
Eum. (re-entering). See, here is meat in plenty:
Fall to and spare not.
Ul.Thank thee, sir; I thank thee.
Eum. Art thou of Ithaca, old man?
Ul.Nay, sir;
Indeed I am not.
Eum.When cam’st thou then among us?
Ul. With this day’s sun I first beheld your isle.
Eum. Eh! hath a ship arrived so late in harbour?
Whence hails she?
Ul.From Thesprotia coasting south;
But driven far out to sea in beating back
370Put in for water; when the notion took me
To leave her, and pursue my own starvation
Without the risk of drowning.
Eum.And how then
Cam’st thou aboard a vessel so ill-found?
Ul. My tale were long, sir, should I once begin:
And since I have seen no food since yestermorn,
Believe I’d lend thee ear rather than mouth.
Eum. Ay, so, no fool, and I was but a churl181
To bid thee talk and eat: eat, sir, in peace.
Ul. I pray thee while I eat tell of thyself,
380Whom here thou servest, and who rules this isle.
Eum. I am a servant, sir, that hath no master:
These swine I tend are no man’s: those I kill
I kill for any one; for on this isle
We pay our service to a gap between
A grandsire and a grandchild. Dost thou take me?
Ul. Yes, friend: thy master is away or dead.
Eum. Both as I think. The while, for lack of tidings,
We make believe he lives. His ancient father,
Decrepit and despairing, lies aloof,—
390We call him king no longer;—and his son,
The old man’s grandchild, is away on quest
Of any tidings to be gleaned from those
Who years agone fought with his sire at Troy.
His widow keeps his house, and hath in hand
Some five or six score suitors. Judge from this
What hope hath beggary in Ithaca.
Ul. In all my wanderings never have I found
A kinder host. But since thou sayest thy master,
Whose absence makes thee masterless, was one
400Who fought at Troy, I too was in that war;
If thou wouldst tell his name, I may know somewhat
To cheer his wife and child.
Eum.Try not that talk,182
Old man. No more of him shall traveller hither
Come bringing tidings that may win their ear.
Lightly indeed for welcome’s sake will vagrants
Speak false, nor have they cause to wish for truth.
Nay, and there’s none strays to this isle, but goes
Seeking my mistress, and there spins his lie;
While she with tender care asks of each thing,
410And from her sorrowing eyes the tears fall fast,
Hearing the name she doth not dare to speak.
And soon enough wouldst thou too coin thy tale,
Couldst thou but win a blanket for thy back:
The while for him vultures and wolves are like
To have stripped his bones of flesh—ay, ay, he is dead—
Or fish have preyed upon him, and his ribs
Bleach on the sea-shore, sunk in drifting sand.
Such fate is his, grievous to all who loved him,
And most to me; who ne’er shall find again
420So kind a lord, wherever I may go:
Not even again if home to father and mother
I should return, where I was bred and born.
Nor are my tears for them, yearn as I do
With these eyes to behold them, and my country;
But my desire is for Ulysses gone:
Speaking whose name, stranger, tho’ far from hearing
I do obeisance (towards Ul.); for he loved me well;
And worshipful I call him, be he dead.
183
Ul. If ’tis Ulysses, friend, whom thou lamentest,
I know he lives.
430Eum.Try not that tale, I say.
Ul. Now, sir, tho’ thou deny it and think I lie,
Ulysses will return, and on that day
Give me my due; since I dare call on Zeus,
First of the gods, and by this friendly table
Swear, and his dear home whither I be come,
This thing shall be, and with the running year
He shall return.
Eum.Nay, ’tis not I shall pay
Thy recompense. Content thee, man, and drink.
Why wouldst thou force persuasion? Tell me rather
440Thy own true story, who thou art and whence.
Ul. Would then that thou couldst give me food and wine,
Ay, and the gods fair sunshine and no toil,
The while my tale should last: for on this bench
Would I take comfort of thee many a day.
But of thy lord ...
Eum.Wilt thou not cease from that!
Ul. With my own ships I fought at Ilion;
And tho’ I look not now, in age and rags,
A master among men, nay, nor a foe
Many would fear, yet mayst thou see on me
450The sign of what I have been, and I think184
Still from the gratten one may guess the grain.
Eum. (aside). How age and misery will brag! And this
To me, who really am a king.
Ul.’Twas then
I knew Ulysses, and have since, like him
And many a Greek, striven against destiny
To gain my home:—at length our ship was cast
On mountainous Thesprotia, where the king
Pheidon was kind to me, and there I heard—
Nor yet are many weeks passed since that day—
460Full tidings of Ulysses, and I saw
What wealth his arm had gotten: he himself
Was travelled to Dodona, but by this
Should be returned.
Eum.Stranger, if all thy words,
That grow in number, should outreach in tale
The moments of his absence, they were vainly
Poured in mine ears.
Ul.Nay, then, and if indeed
Ulysses came himself, here of his friends
He would not be received.
Eum.Ay, that may be:
And time will change a man so from himself,
470That oft I wonder none have e’er contrived
To make pretence to be Ulysses’ self.185
That were a game for thee, old man, if age
Did not so far belie thee. Nay, nay, nay!
Signs there would be: and if these eyes should see him,
And seeing know not, I would serve them so
That they should see no more.
Eum. Still harking back! I tell thee, friend, our thought
Is rather for his son Telemachus,
And his return; who when he promised well
480To be his father’s match, went wandering hence
To Lacedæmon, seeking for his sire:
An idle quest and perilous, for I say
’Twould much increase the tender love of them
That woo the mother, could they kill the son,
And quarrel for the inheritance: and now
They have sent a ship to take him in the straits,
As he comes home: but may the gods protect him.
Tho’, till I see him safe, my heart is vexed.
Ul. Fear not; the gods will save him.
Eum.Thank thee, sir.
Hast ever been in Sparta?
490Ul.Ask me nought,
If thou wilt credit nought; or shall I say
I have never lodged in Pitanè, nor drunk
Out of Eurotas, nor on summer noons186
Gazed on the steep sun-checquered precipices
Of huge Taygetus?
Eum.Thy pardon, sir.
Hast eaten well?
Ul.Ay, to content: but, friend,
I shall not prey upon thee: an hour or two
I’ll rest me here; then, if thou shew the road
To good Ulysses’ house, I’ll e’en be gone.
500Food must be there in plenty: I make no doubt
To beg a meal till I may serve for hire.
Eum. Why, man, what put this folly in thy head?
’Twere the short way to end thy days, to go
Among that insolent and godless herd,
To tempt their violence. Not such as thou
Their servants are: they that attend on them
Are young and gaily clad and fair of face:
And though the polished tables lack not food,
’Tis not for such as thou the hot feast smokes
510From morn till eve, and the red wine is poured.
Bide here; for here thou vexest none, nor me
Nor any of my fellows. Bide awhile,
And if Telemachus return, I warrant
Thou shalt have no complaint. Hark, I hear feet:
Some one now comes.
Ul.And ’tis a friend; the dogs
Bark not, but fawn around. (Aside.) If this be he!187
I dare not rise and look.
Eum.Why he! ’tis he!
Telemachus, my son Telemachus,
Art thou returned in safety?
Ul. (aside.) Praised be the gods! I see my son indeed!
Eum. Light of mine eyes, thou’rt come, Telemachus;
All shall go forward with us once again.
Ul. (aside). He calls him father, and I may not speak.
Tel. Hath aught been wrong?
Eum.Nay, nought is changed for that.
’Twas only lack of thee: and with the fear
Some ill might hap to thee, what dost thou think
Must old Eumæus feel?
Tel. What couldst thou fear?
Eum. Didst thou not know? The wooers sent a ship
To take thee, son. Thou didst not? Well, some god
531Protected thee. Now let me look on thee.
Come within. Sit thee down.
188
Tel.So will I gladly.
Ere I would venture to the house, I came
To talk with thee, and learn if aught has passed.
My mother?...
Eum.All is well, prince, yet; she bides
Patient and brave, and weeps both day and night;
Weeps too for thee. Give me thy spear, my son.
Now sit thee down. I say we have feared for thee.
Tel. (to Ul.). Nay, rise not, stranger; there be other seats,
540And men to set them.—Pardon me that my joy
O’erlooked thee. Thou hast guests, Eumæus?
Eum.Nay,
None but this ancient father.
Eum. To me is he a stranger as to thee.
’Twas yesterday, he tells me, that his ship
Thesprotian, as he says, driven from her course,
Put in for water: when for some mistrust
Or weariness of voyage he remained.
He hath fed with me, but thou being now returned
He looks to be a suppliant at the house.
He is thy man.
550Tel.Eumæus, thou must know
I could not, whatsoe’er his claim, receive him
Where I myself am threatened: and even my mother189
Holds no sure mind, wavering from day to day
Who shall be master. No: there is no place
For suppliants at the house: but as thy guest
I still may treat him well: here he shall have
Raiment and all he needs, and I will give him
A sword, and bid him fare where’er he will.
But not to the house I bid him come, for fear
560Violence befall him and I be accursed.
Ul. Sir, since thy kindness makes me bold to speak,
Thou hast my thanks; nor can I hear thy wrongs,
Nor see thy shame unmoved, for thou art noble.
Hast thou provoked this, tell me, or are thy people
Moved by some god to hate, or is’t thy brethren
Play thee false?
Tel.Nay, there is neither grudge nor hate
Betwixt me and my folk, nor do my brethren
Stand faithlessly aloof. ’Tis all to say
That Zeus hath made our house of single heirs:
570Arceisios gat one only son Laertes,
And he one only son, Ulysses; I,
Ulysses’ son, am too his only child:
And he hath left his house the prey of foes.
I cannot aid thee, stranger.
Ul.O would that I
Were young as thou, and in my present mood;
That I were this Ulysses or his son:190
Far rather would I die slain in my halls
By my thick foes, than see this reckless wrong;
My good farms plundered, and my herds devoured,
580My red wine wasted, and my handmaidens
Hither and thither haled about, at will
Of such a rabble as fear not God nor man,
Spoilers and robbers, who have set their hearts
Vainly upon a purpose, which I say
Shall never be accomplished.
Athena appears at the door to Ulysses.
Tel.I pray the gods
It never be, and thank thee well, my friend,
For thy good will.
Eum.How art thou moved, old man.
Ul. The heart unmoved by others’ wrongs is dead:
And yet maybe I am somewhat overwrought;
If I may go within ...
590Eum.Ay, go within,
And rest thee; thou hast need.
Ul.I thank thee, friend.
I’ll lay me down to sleep: here I but shackle
Your private talk.
Eum.Be at thy ease, I pray.
Tel. Go, father; rest thee well.
Ul.I thank thee, sir. [Exit.
191
Eum. How earnest thou, son? Where didst thou land?
Tel.Is’t true
The wooers sent a ship?
Eum.Didst thou not meet them?
Tel. Hark now, and hear in what strange manner warned
I knew their ambush, to avoid them.
Eum.Ah!
Thou knewest it, thou knewest!
Tel.Wilt thou think
600I was at Sparta but three days ago?
There in my sleep the goddess, at whose word
I made this voyage, came and stood beside me,
Called me by name, and bade me quick return;
And for my safety warned me that a ship
’Twixt Ithaca and Samè lay in wait;
Which if I would avoid I must sail round,
Keeping the west of the isle; and for that voyage
She promised a fair wind. So the next morn
Was I at Pylos; whence as I set forth,
610I found the wind, and sailing day and night,
With swift unbroken passage came to shore
Last evening north of the isle. Hither alone
I passed in the dark, and sent my ship about.
Eum. That was well done: I praise the gods for that.192
I knew that they would save thee.
Tel.But, Eumæus,
What of the ship? What knowest thou? What means it?
Were all agreed plotting my life together,
Or whose deed is it?
Eum.One rancorous spirit rules them,—
Save Lord Amphinomus, who stands as ever
620Within the bounds: of all the rest there’s none
That would not take thy life by stealth, nor one
Who openly would dare.
Eum.And if I die to avenge it,
Son, he shall pay for it.
Tel.Talk, I pray, of safety,
Not of revenge. Shall I make bold to go
Straight to the house, or must I hide me here?
Eum. Bide, son, bide! ’Tis not safe. Let me go, son.
When once ’tis known in the isle that thou’rt returned,
Then thou mayst shew thyself. The cowards fear
630The love the people bear thee. Let me go.
Eum.All’s well where ill is well.
Tel. Eumæus, I’ll not venture yet: but thou193
Haste to the house, and in my mother’s ear
Whisper I am here: but let none other guess
That thou hast tidings of me.
Eum.Not to tell
Thy grandsire, son? He scarce hath eat or drunk
While thou hast been away: ’twere well he knew,
And quickly; for an hour is much to one
Whose life leans on the grave.
Tel.My safe return
640Can be no secret, but my hiding-place
Must not be known: therefore I would not have
Thee for my herald. Thou mayst bid my mother
Send one to comfort him; but go not thou
Wandering among the hills. My bidding done,
Make swift return. I shall be here.
Eum.I pray
Let not that old man here come round thee, son,
With idle stories of thy sire: he is full
Of tales of Troy: and if he win thine ear
He hath a purpose.
Tel.He! Nay, trust me, father.
650Eum. Well, he will try.
Eum.He hath a tongue:
He saith he fought at Ilion. Then, he saith
He knew Ulysses.
194
Eum.And then
He hath been in Lacedæmon too.
Tel.His talk
While thou’rt away may well beguile the time.
Eum. Ay, and thee too. Thou hast not heard, I fear,
Aught of thy father now, where thou hast been?
Tel. Somewhat, but nothing recent. What I know
I’ll tell thee later. Thou couldst gather nought
From this old man?
Eum.He is cunning: didst thou see
660How he could counterfeit? I tell thee, son,
He hath not been here an hour, and never knew
Aught of thy father; but he plucks from me
The story word by word, and then at once
Bursts out,—he knew Ulysses: ay, he stayed
Eating to speak of him.
Eum. I would not hear him, son: I would not hear him.
Eum.Ay, ay. Why, how believe
Thy father now is in Thesprotia,
Where the king Pheidon hath a ship all stored
To bring him home?
670Tel.Eumæus, good Eumæus!195
What if ’tis true?
Eum.True! There, ’tis as I thought:
I would not leave thee with him, son; he is quick:
He will delude thee.
Tel.I must hear his tale,
Though it be false. Go thou: my ship will else
Be round before thee. Go, and never fear
That this old man will turn my head.
Eum.Be warned.
Trust him not, son. There is something strange about him
I like not.
Tel.Come: as far as to the gate
I will go with thee. [Exeunt.
Re-enter Ulysses as himself.
Ul. Lo! now the sun in the mid goal of heaven
Hath climbed to view my fortunes, and my shade
682On this well-trodden floor falls neither way:
So towers my genius; so my future and past
Lie gathered for the moment.—How oft in dreams,
When longing hath forecast this hour, I have loved
The rescuing tears that loosed my heart: and now
The womanish water wells, I bid it back:
For nature stammers in me, and I see
689Imagination hath a grasp of joy196
Finer than sense; and my most passionate spirit,
When most it should leap forth, hangs back unwilling
To officer the trembling instruments,
By which delight is served. Back, then, my tears!
Fate rules; reason should fashion me.—And welcome
Even this harshness of fate; for if my son
Shall know me as I am, not as a merchant
Should I return at ease, that men might ask
Whether Ulysses were returned or no;
Rather in blood than doubt.—Here on this bench
700I’ll wait him, nor myself be first to speak:
And ’twill be tried for once how a man’s son
Shall know his father, never having seen him.
Tel. Why, who art thou? Not he that on this bench
Sattest so late! In truth I much mistook thee,
Or thou art changed. Thy hair was thin and white,
Thy body rough and pinched with age, thy clothes
Were meanest rags. Say art thou he, the same,
Eumæus’ guest from the Thesprotian ship?
Tel.Surely thou art a god.
Be gracious to our house! [Kneels.
710Ul. (rising). Nay, rise, my son.
I am no god. Why wilt thou liken me197
To those immortals? I am thy father, son,
Ulysses to my home at last returned. [Kisses him.
Tel. Alas, thou art a god, and thy words mock me.
Ul. Thou knowest me not. [Sits.
Tel.Say, if thou wert a man,
How couldst thou put that change of semblance on,
Which only gods may use?
Ul.The wise Athena
Uses me as she will: then was I old
That none might know me; now I am myself
720That thou mayst know.—’Tis I.
Tel.Father! my father!
O, happy day. [Weeps on his neck.
Ul.Thy kisses, O, my son:
Thy kisses and thy tears, my son, my son.
Tel. O, thou art come. O, happy, happy day.
Ul. I am come, Telemachus: but how to know
’Tis I?
Tel.O, I am sure; who could be like thee?
I knew too thou wouldst come, dear father, and yet
I never honoured thee enough: I thought
I should be worthy of thee: now I fear ...
Ul. I must be unlike thy thought, son; but in thee
730I see myself again of twenty years:
Nay, I was somewhat thicker, but maybe
That will make up; and thou hast got instead198
Thy mother’s grace. ’Tis true we mostly shape
Less to the father.
Tel.How, sire, didst thou come?
Ul. A good Phæacian ship brought me last night.
I came to land in the dark: and all the spoils
I have brought with me are hidden in the cave,
738Till we may fetch them forth.
Tel.First come thou home.
Ul. And would I might. The hope of twenty years
Is gathered in this hour. Come home, thou sayst:
Ah, son; and would I might; but what of them
That stop the way?
Tel.The suitors of my mother?
O, they will fly to hear of thy return.
Ul. They must not fly. All, where they have done me wrong,
Must with their lives atone. This is the cause
Of my disguise, that none should know me here
But thou, to whom alone I am revealed,
That plotting with thee I may draw the net
About them. This the goddess bids me, son;
To slay thy mother’s wooers.
750Tel.Father, I know
Thou art unmatchable among the Greeks
In warriorship and wisdom, ay, and here
Is none would dare to face thee: yet by tens199
They reckon, and I fear would overpower thee
By very number.
Ul.Say: how many be they?
Tel. Out of Dulichium there be two and fifty
Princes and lords, each with his serving-man:
From Samè, four and twenty: from Zakynthus
A score; and even of Ithaca itself
760Twelve of the best, with Phemius the bard,
Medon, and many followers: ’gainst all these
We are but two.
Ul.I fear them not, my son.
Tel. Seek other aid, I pray, ere ’gainst so many
We venture.
Ul.What, son, sayst thou, if Athena
And father Zeus aid us? will they, thou thinkest,
Suffice, or must we cast about to find
Some other champion?
Tel.Truly they are the best
Thou namest, father; tho’ among the clouds
Their seat is, and their countenance withheld
From mortal men.
770Ul.They will not hold aloof,
When once our spears are plunging in the breasts
Of that vain rabble. Goes thy heart with mine?
Tel. With thee and for thee, father, will I fight,
Askest thou?
200
Ul.Wilt thou bear to look on me
As late thou sawest me, and seeing me so,
Find not the least diminishment of love?
Tel. I never shall forget this godlike mien,
Whence to disguise thou deignest as a god.
Ul. But when thou seest me mocked and scorned, a slave,
780A beggar where I am lord, wilt thou discover
No indignation?
Tel.I will hide my wrath.
Ul. For I must be thy guest among my foes.
Tel. To be my guest, if they should set upon thee
To drive thee forth, will force me to resist.
Ul. Fear not the threatenings of those doomèd men.
Tel. They all are armed, and thou wilt be unarmed.
Ul. Tho’ they provoke me I will bide my time.
Tel. But how if they assault thee unprepared?
Ul. The goddess will withhold their impious hands.
790Tel. Lurk rather here until the plot be ripe.
Ul. Nay, son; and were the lure of home less strong
To me so long deprived, yet would I see
Myself the wrongs there done me, see the shame
Of which men speak; and, once within the hall,
I can take count and measure of my foes.
A just cause, bold heart, and the aid of heaven
Should still thy fear.
201
Tel.Tell me thy bidding, father!
Ul. Ay, so ’tis best: and thro’ thee I may come
To see thy mother;—hark, the course is plain:
800Go to the town; announce thine own return;
Thence to the house, and to Eumæus say
Thou wilt receive me; he must know no more:
Bid him to-morrow fetch me to the hall.
And when thou seest thy mother, tell her thus;
Thou hast seen a stranger in Eumæus’ hut,
Who having known thy father, carries news
That he is near. As to confirm thy tale,
Bring her to speech with me when none are by.
Ourselves may meet at night, and then consult
810In secret on what stratagem may grow
From that occasion, or what further thing
The goddess may command.
Tel.Now thy disguise
Is my chief fear, father; I know these men:
Their insolent assumption would not brook
Any intruder, but against a beggar
They will make sport of outrage.
Ul.Sayst thou so?
Then shall we prove them thus: be they good men
They will show pity: if they mock my rags,
Try if they honour thee; and bid them make,
820Each of his own, a portion unto me.202
I then shall see their hearts: the more they rage,
Force them the more with full authority.
This canst thou well do. ’Tis thy harder task
Not to betray me. Youth is bold of heart
And hot in battle, but to guard the tongue
And to restrain the hand come with long years.
Tel. Now let this trial prove me once for all,
Whether in keeping counsel and in battle
I am thy true son, or another man.
830Ul. All hangs on thee; for none but thou must know,
Not even thy mother. Tell me, I would learn
If in her thought I am alive or dead;
And what thine own mind was, fear not to say.
Tel. Truly ’twixt hope and hopelessness, we stood
In blank uncertainty; and if not yet
Our wishes wore the colour of our fears,
Now was the turn.
Ul.I come then not too soon?
Ul.’Tis well, but time is short;
Tarry no longer. Get thee home, and there
840Ordain a sacrifice, such as befits
This day of days: such as may well content
The favourable deities, and appease
The unfriendly. Guess, son, if thy heart is stirred,203
How ’tis with me. The ties of home are dear,
And what a man is born to, both the place,
Where’er it be, that hath received his being
Out of oblivion, and given his mind
The shapes and hues of earth, the sights of heaven,
The place whence he sets forth to meet strange things,
850Whither returns to find his own, himself;
This bides, the harbour of his fancy,—and draws him
Spite of all else from world’s end to world’s end.
And more, more dear, are those whose place it was,
Whose name he is called by, whom he calls his own,
Whose love hath borne and nurtured him, whose life
He is offshoot of and diligent support.
This love thou knowest, and being to-day returned
But from short voyage, mayst in little gauge
My joy returning after many years.
860But what thou know’st not—mayst thou come to know!—
I’ll tell thee. There be ties dearer than place
Or parents; there be bonds that break in pieces
The hearts that break them, and whose severance
Is more than banishment. Boy, ’tis thy mother
That makes this Ithaca the world to me;
These tears are hers: and seeing thee, my son,
Whose picture I have carried in my heart,
And year by year have checked and altered still204
With vain imagination to thy growth
870Since last I left thee fondled in her arms,
I learn how dear art thou. Now on thy brow
I’ll set this kiss. Begone and do my bidding.
The goddess calls me: I must take again
That shape which late thou saw’st me in. Farewell.
Forget not when I am changèd what I am.
Tel. Thy first commands are dear, sire; I obey.
Hall in house of Ulysses: [as described, in note].
EURYMACHUS, AMPHINOMUS, CTESIPPUS,
PHEMIUS, and many suitors. Noise and brawling.
Remains of feast.
Peace! Will none hear? Silence! O peace, I say.
Will ye not hearken? (Some abatement.)
Friends, give ear awhile,
And hearken to Eurymachus.
For one,
I am not of his party.
880Nay, nor I,
Let him command his own.
Eur.Princes and lords!
Have ye not chosen me to rule your feasts?206
I claim no more precedence; I would urge
Nought but your honour, which ye go to shame
By such disordered brawling.
Ctes.O, we know thee.
’Tis nought Penelope should deem we lie
Under thy thumb!
A suitor.Ay, or what matters else
How these old beams may shake?
Ctes.What hast thou done?
Amph. My lords, ye do forget yourselves.
Ctes.O, nay.
890Why went not Lord Eurymachus himself
To seize Telemachus? Doth he not bide
For the main chance? Will he not watch the play,
The while Antinous is furthered forth?
And—O, we know—when Lord Antinous
Returns, and saith The thing ye wish is done;
Telemachus is dead, and he who now
Winneth the widow winneth house and lands
And kingship; then the rich Eurymachus
Will raise his hands and weep, The very thing
900I would have stayed. Alas! the neediness
And avarice of some!
Amph.Why, good Ctesippus,
Seek not a quarrel.
Ctes.Nay, but is’t not so?
207
Amph. ’Twill never be. The just and equal gods
Have yet respect unto Ulysses’ house.
And were’t their will Telemachus should die,
He that went forth to slay him is the man
Whose heart they turned to do it. For me, I say,
I willed it not, and think ’twill never be.
Ctes. Thou’rt but a craven!
Eur.Get ye to your seats:
910Pass we the bowl in peace, and while we drink
Let Phemius soothe our rivalries with song.
But one can win the prize, and whose ’twill be
Lies in the lap of Zeus. Fair play and peace!
Amph. And shame not this good house. Lack we a lord,
This courtesy is due unto ourselves.
Ctes. When brave Antinous returns, I say,
We shall grow warm again.
Follow my song that leads,
Ye wooers all, and come
920To praise the flock, that feeds
Upon the grassy meads
Of fair Dulichium:208
Where Acheloüs laves with rippling sweet
The low fields red with wheat.
For thee, I praise, Amphinomus, thou prince,
Shepherd of sunset pastures; and I tell
Again what once befell
Nisus, thy sire, long since:
To fruitful Lacedæmon when he came,
930With lords that made resort
From Calydon’s high court,
And western isles, at call of Helen’s fame,
Wooing the hand of Leda’s heavenly daughter:
But soon such jealousy and deadly gall
Inflamed the suitors all,
That then and there the fated slaughter
Of Danaans had begun,
Had not grave Tyndareus, her mortal sire,
To quench the kindling fire,
940Called on Laertes’ son.
“Wisest of men, Ulysses, tell me true,209
If skill or grace to keep the peace may be
Among the lawless princes, here that sue
For Helen’s hand; if ever as of old
My house from curse of bloodshed may go free,
Do thou the rede unfold.”
Straight answered him the wise Ulysses then,
“O son of Thestius, ’tis in my mind,
That thou these lawless men
950 By firmest oath shouldst bind
To honour him, and give him all their aid,
Whose suit shall favour find,
And honour from the maid;
“Whoever it may be
Who in fair Helen’s eye
His favour first may see;
And thus shall they agree.”
Whereto did all comply;
And gave to Tyndareus their banded troth,
960And singly took this oath:
“To keep good peace we swear,
And let that man go free,
Who winneth Helen fair,
And from all wrong whate’er
Shield him, whoe’er he be.
Good or ill fortune lieth in the lap
Of Zeus, what haps let hap.”
210
So goodly Menelaus, whom erelong
Fair Helen chose of all the lords of Greece,
970His bride led home in peace;
And no man did him wrong.
Then Tyndareus to good Icarius spake,
“Since now by one man’s wit
Our house is saved, ’tis fit
That thou this day be friendly for my sake,
So at our hands he go not unrewarded:
Give him thy daughter, fair Penelope,
If so it pleaseth thee.”
Who to this brother then the boon accorded:
980And thus the wooers’ strife
Ulysses by good counsel quelled, and won
Of Thestius’ other son,
Penelope for wife.
But when in time fair Helen’s virtue failed,
He with the suitors bounden to befriend
Wronged Menelaus, against Ilion sailed,
And joined his arms, pledged by that oath with them;
Till Priam’s broad-wayed city in the end
Fell by his stratagem. 989211
But long being not returned, and passed for dead,
There gathered suitors in his house to woo
His fair wife in his stead;
And strife among them grew.
Nor is his arm more lacked to guard his walls,
Than his good counsel true
To keep peace in his halls.
Which counsel I reclaim,
Remembered for your use,
Ye wooers, even the same
Which saved from blood and shame 1000
The house of Tyndareus.
So now unto my song your chorus bear,
As Helen’s suitors sware.
To keep good peace we swear,
And let that man go free,
Nor do him hurt whate’er,
Whoever wins the fair
And wise Penelope.
Good or ill fortune lieth in the lap
1010Of Zeus; what haps let hap.
Amph. I thank thee for my father, Phemius.212
Eur. Thy tale is twice a tale told at this time.
Ctes. I’ll hold it, that an oath sung out of tune
Binds not the singer.
Her. Be it known the prince Telemachus is come.
[Suitors rise and murmur.
Eur. Shame on you. Silence. Sir, we are much rejoiced
To learn the prince’s safety. When arrived he?
Her. He landed yestereve. We brought the ship
This morn in harbour.
Eur.Where disbarked the prince?
Her. Northward by Ægilips. 1020
Her.My lord,
I speed to tell it. [Exit.
Eur.Friends, if this be true,
We are baffled.
Eur.And nought remains
But man a galley, that shall bear the tidings
To Lord Antinous and his men, who else213
Will lie out watching for him in the straits.
Amph. Yet even that pains is spared us. Looking forth
I see two ships in harbour side by side,
And not far off a company of men,
I take to be Antinous and his band.
Ctes.O, true: they are at the gate.
How hath it happed?
Amph.Prophesy, sir, and tell us
Whether some god forewarned Telemachus,
Or if they gave him chase and could not catch him.
Enter Antinous and his men.
Eur.How went it with thee?
Amph.Why, where’s the prince? he saith.
Where is the prince?
Ant.Curst luck!
All day our scouts kept up unbroken guard214
Along the windy headlands, and at night
None slept ashore, but cruising to and fro,
1040We watched the narrow channels until dawn,
Lying in wait to take him when he came.
And lo! he is here, hath run by into port,
And beached his ship upon the royal stade,
Before we knew it. Curst luck! Have ye seen him?
Eur. Nay, for he landed by the northern shore,
And sent his ship about: a god hath warned him.
Ant. God or no god, plant we before he comes
An ambush in the hills, and slay him there:
For once he reach the town alive, be sure
1050He is the huntsman then and we the game.
Ay, he hath wit eno’ ere he come hither
To babble of our plot, and ’fore the folk
Will, with his pretty face and cunning tears
And speeches of his mother, stir them up
To rise against us. Look, sirs, while he lives
We can do nothing, but if we should kill him,
His lands and goods are ours: we may divide
The wealth and let who will possess the widow.
That is my counsel, lords: but if ye suffer
1060This baby to return, then this I say—
Make we at once our gifts,—myself I count it
No satisfaction,—but that one of us215
Should win at least the dame and such few chattels
As may go with her, is the only credit
We have to look for.
Amph.Why, ’tis a pretty plan.
We came to woo the dame; but since ’tis clear
All cannot have her, in the general interest
Change we our purpose, saith he, kill the son,
1070And make division. Well! What say ye, lords?
Ctes. Hark not to him: he hath a specialty.
Amph. Imbrue ye not your hands in innocent blood,
Nor touch Telemachus: for ’tis a thing
Abhorred of Zeus to meddle with a life
Of royal strain. There be the oracles;
Consult ye them: and if Telemachus
Must die and ’tis decreed, I shall be last
Of men to oppose it: otherwise I stand
Against Antinous, ay, sword to sword:
1080Whose insolence, I say, the gods already
Have baulked and will not suffer.
Eur.Spoken well,
Amphinomus; yet hast thou shewn no way
To avoid the mischief that must fall on us,
If now Telemachus return alive.
216
Enter from the gallery above, Penelope.
Suitors. The queen, the queen!
Ye shameless men, and thou most shamed of all,
Antinous—nay, never think I know not
Because I hold aloof; or that I hear not
Because ye see me not. I know you all,
1090And none is there among you who more wrongs
The hospitality ye all constrain,
Than that Antinous:—doth he remember
How once his sire Eupeithes to this house
Fled from the people, when they would have slain him
For joining in the Taphian piracies
’Gainst the Thesprotians, who were then our friends
And good allies as now; but my Ulysses
Took him, and by great favour won his life?
And now his son against our noble son
1100Plotteth to kill him: is all due regard
For sacred ties ’twixt house and house so lost?
That ye too here, who sit in idleness
To waste the substance of my absent lord,
Hark to such insolent and bloody malice,
The while ye sue me for my hand? Pretence!
I say: ye are constant lovers, but ’tis wine
And meat ye love, and me ye only wrong.
217
Eur. And us thou wrongest, wise Penelope,
Deeming thy son hath not such friends among us,
1110As make his coming hither and his going
And converse with us safe. If one had dared
To plot his death, this spear, that now is bright,
Were red to-day with blood: for me too, lady,
Hath good Ulysses in the days gone by
Set on his knee, and to my boyish lips
Tendered the wine-cup: wherefore is his son
Dear to my soul, and from no man that moves
Within my reach, need he fear death or harm.
Ctes. (aside). Hark to him now!
Ant. (to Pen.). We all are bounden, lady,
1120To serve thy house; and I above the rest
Have shewn my zeal, sailing my galley forth
To meet thy son with honour, and in safety
To escort him home.
Pen.Standing but late above
I overheard your council; look, I bid you
Depart, lest on a sudden ye encounter
Him whom ye willed to slay. The gods have brought him
In safety home: he will be here; so ye
Go to your lodges, nor to-morrow morn
Come as your wont, unless ye bring in hand
1130Each of you, for a pledge of truth and peace,218
Some gift of price. Strange suitors are ye, lying
Here at my charges, feasting day by day,
Nor ever make such offerings as a woman
Must look for where she is loved or wooed: begone.
My son hath passed the town. I have a message
He will be here. (Voices without.) Ay, now, before ye go
He is come. I hear him.
Enter Telemachus, spear in hand at back; the wooers
throng round him as he presses forward.
Eur.Welcome, noble prince.
Amph. All hail, Telemachus!
Chor. Hail, noble offspring of a noble sire!—
1140Most gracious son of a most gracious lady!—
Dear to our eyes as is the light of morn—
Welcome as softest rain to new-sown fields—
Ctes. (aside). Or like a frost in spring.
My lords and friends,
I thank you all. (To Pen.) See me returned, dear mother.
Pen. Welcome, my son. I knew that thou wert come:
’Tis good. (Aside to Telem.) I had now discharged these lords: I pray thee
Rid us their company.
219
Tel.My friends, I fear
My entrance, just as ye were stood to go,
Delays your going: feel not such constraint,
1150Beseech you. We may look to meet again,
If I mistake not.
Ant. (aside to wooers). See how haughtily
He bears himself.
Ctes. (aside). Yield not an inch: abide!
Eur. My lords, let all depart.
Amph. (to Pen.). Lady, farewell,
To-morrow I will offer at thy feet
The best I have.
Ant. Would I might stay to see the melting joy
Of this most happy meeting.
Pen.Go thy way.
If ever grace spake false, ’twas on thy tongue,
1160Falsest Antinous.
Suitors (going). Farewell, Farewell.
[They are heard singing without. To keep good peace we swear, etc.]
Pen.O, my noble son,
’Tis joy to kiss thee. Do I see thee safe?220
But O, thou hast tarried long! And was it kind
To make thy journey hence without a word?
If thou couldst but have seen my pain, the day
I found thee gone, thy pity had surely made
Thy duty, and held thee back. But now to see thee,
And as thou earnest those rude men abashed,—
O, I was proud!
Tel.Thou canst not more rejoice
Than I.
1170Pen. I wonder not they were abashed;
Thou hast a freer step, a manlier bearing:
I am much to blame keeping thee here at home,
Away from fellowship of noble spirits.
Whom hast thou seen?
Tel.Why that were long to tell.
Pen. I saw thy ship sail in, and then there came
Eumæus, saying how thou wert with him,
And wouldst not come: then came thy messenger,
That thou wert in the town, and on thy way.
How was it?
Tel.See, I am just escaped with life:
1180Spare questioning. First let the gods be served:
Go bid thy maidens, ere the night close in,
Prepare a worthy sacrifice to Zeus;
Ay, such a sacrifice, as to this day
This house has never seen.
221
Pen.’Tis very meet.
Yet why this urgence? there hath something passed
Thou keepest back. Is’t possible, my boy,
That in the southern courts some lady’s eyes
Have drawn thee to vow hecatombs?
Pen. I should be glad. What is it then hath changed thee?
Tel. How am I changed? 1190
Pen.Thou art aloof and strange.
Tel. It ever dulled my kinder spirits to view
These robbers in my father’s hall.
Pen.Alas!
What could I do, my son, and thou away?
Here is no change, nor ever any tidings.
I have neither power nor reason on my side:
I cannot say My lord is yet alive,
Wherefore depart, ye wrong me; nor as little
My lord is dead, I will requite your honour,
And choose the worthiest. O, where’er thou hast been,
1200If aught thou hast learned of any certainty,
Speak now, whate’er it be, fear not to tell:
Tell of thy sire, my son, though ’tis his death!
Tel. Now heaven forbid that word.
Pen.Alas, Telemachus;
What is our hope? Or if thou know of any,222
Why art thou reticent of it?
Tel.Hearken, mother:
If thou wilt hear me, I will tell my story,
As time allows, stripped of all circumstance.
First sailed I then to Pylos, where I found
Nestor, who lovingly my stay entreated,
1210And held me as his son, but, when he learned
My quest, and nothing knew of my dear father,
Would have me go, and with a royal escort
Conveyed me to the court of Menelaus:
There I saw Argive Helen.—
But Menelaus, when I told my tale
Brake out in anger, and I think few words
Would draw him hither with his dukes to sweep
Our house of its dishonour; but in fine
Thus much he said, that still Ulysses lived,
1220But with the nymph Calypso in her isle
By subtle sleights withheld; in whom it lay
That he was not returned, and might not yet;
But there abode. Then, since he knew no more,
I sped me home, and should have sped to death,
Had not divine Athenè sent a dream
To warn me of the ambush, with the wind
To bring me round the isle: wherefore I bid thee
Perform the sacrifice, lest for such favour
We seem ungrateful.
223
Pen.Didst thou never ask
1230Of Menelaus, how he came to know
Thy father’s fate?
Tel.It was the wizard Proteus,
Whom strangely he entamed and all his art,
When he lay windbound in the isle of Pharos;
Who told him, for he held him fast for all
His magic shifts and slippery changefulness,
Becoming first a bearded lion, thereafter
A snake, a leopard, and a bristly boar;
And then as running water seemed he, or
A tall and flowering tree ...
Pen.My son, my son,
1240These are mere tales. When was this said to have been?
Tel. ’Twas scarce two years.
Tel.’Tis tidings
Both sure and good, mother; and yet ’tis nought
To what remains. The thing I sought abroad
Has come to me at home: but if I tell thee,
Thou in thine inmost heart store it,—no word
Even to Eumæus, tho’ ’twas in his hut,
—Where as I crossed the isle I turned aside,—
I found an aged man, his beggar guest:
Whom, for Eumæus warned me he was full224
1250Of tales of Troy, I held of no account
When first he spoke, but soon I learnt he knew.
He was himself at Troy, and, as he saith,
Hath lately seen my father, who is free,
And bent on swift return.
Pen.Nay, nay, thou art deceived.
An idle tale Eumæus would not hear:
A rogue he warned thee of, and not the first
That thus hath lied.
Tel.There hath been none like him.
Pen. Their tale is still the same, and spiced to match
Any credulity.
1260Tel.I would not have
Thy mind less wary, nor bespeak thy credit.
To-morrow I will bring him here, and then,
He being our guest, thyself mayst question him.
And be thou not persuaded, I will look
No longer for my father’s wished return;
Nor after lend an ear to any man,
But hold him as our enemy, who saith
Ulysses lives.
Pen.In hoping and despairing
Thou art too quick, my son; and past occasions
Have taught thee nought. Come, tell me of thyself,225
1271And of thy journey. Tell me too of Helen,
Is she still beautiful? and doth she live
Forgiven of Menelaus and beloved?
Tel. In good time, mother, shalt thou hear all this,
And more. Consider now how best to prove
This beggar, when I bring him.
Pen.If need were
’Twere easy.—Yet, how should Eumæus err?
Hath he not means to sift the false from true?
Could such a guest as this thou deemest dwell
With him unknown?
1280Tel.Thou shalt thyself enquire.
Weigh well what proof to use, but now no longer
Delay the sacrifice my safety calls. [Going.
Tel.Adieu, I go into the town.
Tel.First I must make report
To good Noëmon of his ship returned;
Then to pay off my crew.
Pen.Ah, prithee son,
Have care: the robbers have a plot to kill thee:
They now may lie in wait. ’Tis early dusk.
Tel. I fear them not. 1289
Pen.Indeed I know their minds.
Tel. The goddess will withhold their impious hands.
226
Pen. What goddess trustest thou to aid thee so?
Tel. Why who but she that hath preserved my sire?
Pen. Alas! Then take Eumæus with thee, son.
Tel. I need him not. Farewell.
Pen.Then if thou goest,
Farewell. But do not tarry.
Tel.Bid prepare
My chamber; for at night I shall return. [Exit.
Pen. The gods protect thee.—Would the gods, that made him
So handsome, loving, noble, brave, and good,
Had given him wisdom; for without that gift,
1300Grace bears no fruit. ’Tis plain to all, my son
Hath not the truth of his advertisement:
He wears the semblance only, such as lures
And flatters the deceiver. If I am vexed,
’Tis with myself: I looked for better things
And suffer in rebuff. That Menelaus,
The delicate, self-seeking Menelaus,
Should leave his easeful home to avenge a friend,
And that friend dead: and then the wizard tales,
Calypso and Proteus, and whatever else,
1310And worst of all this ancient beggar-man,
Who hath a tale better than all the tales!
Alas, alas! my son, thou wilt have need
Of much good care. ’Twas ill I did not send227
Eumæus with him. Now till he return,
Patience—and when he is returned, again
Patience—’tis so: patience was made for me;
And one by one my deprecative days
Bring nought, but as they flee, still cry to-morrow.
The same: many wooers seated about the hall over
remains of feast. In front of stage TELEMACHUS
(L.), EURYMACHUS (C.), AMPHINOMUS and
ANTINOUS (R.). Phemius sitting near: at left of
stage a table piled with gifts.
Order thou as thou wilt; with mine own hand
Will I present my gift.
1320And so will I.
Shall there be no distinction?
Sirs, consider
How ye would make distinction. Ye are many,
And acquiescence in a preference
Of two or three were the self-forfeiture
By all the rest of further claim in suit.
Hark, ’tis well said, Eurymachus; and for one229
I were content.
Eur.Why this is nought to me.
All cannot give; but we and such beside,
Whose title we acknowledge, may present
1330Our gifts in person: let the rest lay theirs
Here on the table: nor will we admit
More than are present now within the hall:
All others with the henchmen may remain,
Where they sit feasting, in the outer court.
Eur.’Twas on her own demand
We brought our gifts to-day: shall we not give them?
Ant. ’Tis fit there be reception. Here we wait
Since noon, and still she comes not. Will she come?
Tel. I am here, my lords, to tell you she will come.
Prepare to see her.
1340Eur.My place is first: ye two
Will follow. For the rest, is’t left to me
To fix the order?
Amph.I would urge to abide
By what the prince desires.
Tel.Nay, nay, my lords.
I waive all word: the matter rests with you.
I say but this: since ’tis not possible
That each in person should present his gift,
My mother’s will is that ye lay them here230
Upon the table. Yet if one or two
Command distinction, there is nought so far
Forbids exception.
1350Eur.Lords, then sit we down;
Thence may we pass the word to whom we will.
And say that while we wait our lady’s coming,
Good Phemius sing. Prince, wilt thou sit by me?
Tel. Nay, I will take my seat where I was wont.
Tel.Phemius, I’d have thy song
Tell of my father.
Enter Eumæus with Ulysses disguised.
This way, old man, now art thou in the hall
Of good Ulysses.
Eur.Stay, stay, who come here
Breaking the music.
Ant.’Tis the wretched swineherd.
Eur. Prince, bid him hence!
Ant. What ruffian brings he with him? 1360
Amph. Who is this ancient patch?
Ant.O miserable
Tatterdemalion!
231
Eur. Eumæus, I bid thee take thy plague away!
A suitor. Nor want we thee to-day, old swine-driver.
Another. When the meat fails, we’ll send.
Another. Go fat thy pigs!
Ctes.The hog-tub stands without:
If thy old man be hungry, take him there.
Another. Ctesippus, force them forth.
Ctes.Begone, I say:
Or I will drive you quicker than ye came.
1370Eur. Eumæus, hear me: take thy man away.
Eum. Nay, Lord Eurymachus, ’tis never thou
Canst say begone to any from this hall,
Nay, nor Antinous nor Ctesippus either:
But if to me ye say it, ye forget
How I stand here of right; nor is it like
I stir for you. As for your music-making,
Be still yourselves, and we can sit in peace,
And listen with you.
Ant.Ye to sit with us,
Insolent villain!
Eur.Whatsoe’er thy right,
1380This filthy beggar is beyond all reason.232
Who is he?
Eum.Lord Eurymachus, this man,
Mean as he is, hath here more privilege
Than thou. He comes by invitation hither;
He is the prince’s suppliant.
Eur.Now, Telemachus,
Thou art reproached in this.
Eum.Come to reproach,
I know a word.
Ant.Wag not thy beard at us,
Thou low-bred hind.
Tel.Indeed, Eurymachus,
I am not disgraced; for in my father’s hall
Was ever room and welcome for all such
1390As needed food and shelter: nay, and they
Who most have need stand first; as doth this man.
As for my servant, he hath given an answer
To those that have reviled him.
Amph.If so be
This beggar is thy guest and suppliant,
His fitter place were still the outer court:
Invite him thither.
Tel.I have bid him here.
And here he shall remain. Fear not, good father,
Go sit thee by the hearth: and thou, Amphinomus,
Urge me not. I will have my way in this:233
1400Were there no other reason than this one,
That I will have my way. Take thou that stool,
Old man, and sit at ease: none here can touch thee.
Ctes. (to Ul. aside). Dare!
Ant. (to Eur.). Shall we brook this?
Eur.Prince Telemachus,
Though thou be very son of great Ulysses,
Think not to overrule us thus with words.
Dispose thou mayst within fair reason’s bounds
Even as thou wilt: so much in courtesy
We grant, but not for fear; nor are our spirits
Of stuff to suffer what indignities
1410Thy haughty temper may prepare. In this
We shall resist thee.
Tel.There be men in Ithaca
Call thee not king, Eurymachus; though here
Thou take so much on thee.
Ant.Ha! threat’st thou us?
Telemachus! what next? This is’t to have been
In Lacedæmon. Now may we, who ne’er
Have looked upon the godlike Menelaus,
Behold his mirror. Why, what game is this?
Think’st thou with strength and might upon our side
We bandy words? I say this ragged loon
1420Shall not have place with us: the sight of him
Hath turned my stomach. If for any bond234
Of blood or service thou set store by him,
Thou mayst do better for his skinny bones
Than stow them here. ’Twill not be many hours
That he shall trouble us.
Tel.Ay, so may be.
But wouldst thou kill him, Lord Antinous,
It had been better to have waylaid his ship,
Or set an ambush for him in the hills.
Ant. (aside). By heaven, I smart.
Amph.Hark, if the prince
1430Persist, we may not say him nay. Be seated.
Maybe our lady’s voice may interpose:
Let us defer our grievance to the word
Of sage Penelope.
Ant.How shall I sit
In presence of such insult?
Ant. (aside to Ul.). Man, as thou lovest life, fly while thou mayst.
Kind sir, I am deaf.
Ant.I’ll make thee deafer yet.
Tel. Phemius, we listen. Sit thou there, old man.
Eumæus, take him meat and wine.
235
Ul. (sitting at r. front). I thank thee.
Ctes. Go further off, I pray; I’m not thy friend,
Thou hoary plague.
1440Eur.Silence, the music sounds.
(Eumæus bears food to Ulysses, who eats and drinks
during Phemius’ ode.)
Happy are the earth’s heirs:
Who, that his toilsome lot
And hard-won gain compares,
Admires and envies not?
At one time one, at another another best,
Come mortal pleasures, troubling sweet content;
But two above the rest
Are ever of worth,
Everywhere are praisèd and excellent,
1450To live and possess the earth:
And my name—ranked desire ’mong graven things—
Would live with the island kings.
Happy Telemachus then art thou,
Ithaca’s true-born lord:
Rejoice and welcome him now
Safe to his home restored.236
Shout—O well is thee!
The gods in worship and joy, pray we,
—And high desert uplifts the prayer—
Grant thee here in plenty the good thou meritest,
1461Nor to fall in a like snare
With him from whom thou inheritest,
Ulysses, Laertes’ son.
Twenty are the years gone
Since in another’s strife,
To win a faithless wife
He vexed the true, his own.
For her new-married he left and his newborn boy,
His true-born prince to manhood now upgrown,
To fight at fateful Troy. 1470
In front of the strife
Fought he, and fell not there, nor lies entombed
By mighty Achilles’ side;
Nor yet returned he home, but wandering wide
To alien death was doomed.
Weep for him, ye that around his board
Sit in the bright fire-shine:
No more shall Ithaca’s lord
Stretch his hand to the wine.237
1480Sing a mournful strain!
Alas, he counteth not loss nor gain;
His wife is wooed, and he makes no sign;
Thralls go here and there, but another beckoneth.
For the dead hath no desire,
He knoweth nothing, nor reckoneth;
He is cold, and feels not the fire.
[He plays sad music in silence.
Enter suddenly Penelope (with some six maids attendant).
Ul. (aside). I see the beacon of my life undimmed.
Hush ye these mournful strains!—’tis music’s skill
To comfort and wean sorrow’s heart away
1490With beautiful distractions from its woe:
Not to be plunged therein, and chafe remembrance
With added echoes. Oh, I have wept enough.
Would you my life should faster waste in grief,
That ye must widen more its aching channels
With melancholy dirges? These are fit
For souls at ease; ay, such as ye, my lords,
Who feel no thorns prick you, may love to drink
The soft compunctious mimicries of woe.
But me with all your pleasures still ye vex,
1500In mine own house, forgetful of my wounds. 238
—And thou, whom servest thou, Phemius, that thy mistress
Thou disobeyest?
Ul. (aside). Spoke like a goddess.
Tel.’Twas at my command.
Forgive me, mother.
Pen.Thou wert used, I think,
To know me better, son.
Tel.If thou art come
To take the presents which thy wooers bring,
See where they lie.
Ul. (aside). Now what to say?
Pen.My lords, the prince hath shewn me
These gifts: they are well my due, and some amends
1510For your continual spending, which to grudge
Were unbecoming, were this house my own.
Ul. (aside). That is well said: now may she fairly spoil them.
Pen. But since I keep it for its absent lord ...
Eur. Oh, lady, he is dead.
Amph. Sagest Penelope, thou triflest still.
The time is fled when hope might yet imagine
Thy husband lived: so long to have sent no word239
1520Is surest tidings: if Ulysses lived
He would be here.
Amph.Thy needful patience
Have all admired: perpetual widowhood
The gods and we forbid. To make an end
Of all that thou mislikest in our suit,
Is but the boon we crave: choose one of us,
Whoe’er it be—to-day.
Pen.Would all of ye
Assent to this?
Ant.Ay, wherefore sit we here?
Pen. Indeed, my lords, ye best know why ye came.
Eur. Worshipful lady, if but all the Achæans
Who speak thy name could now behold and hear thee,
Then not this house, nay, nor this island’s round,
1532Would hold thy thronging wooers, by so far
Outshinest thou all women of the earth
In beauty and in wisdom.
Pen.Still too wise
To fall to flattery; but my grace and favour
The gods destroyed that day the Argives sailed
’Gainst Ilion, and bore hence with them my lord:
But should he come to rule again his house,
Fairer than ever then my fame would be
1540For all this grief and the thick thrusts of fate. 240
But he, in farewell ere he left his home,
Took my right hand in his, and said to me,
Dear wife, we must not think the Achæan army
Will all, as they set forth, return from Troy,
In numbers and in bravery safe and sound:
Our foes are warriors skilled in spear and bow,
And horsemen good, say they, such as most quickly
Are wont in equal fight to turn the day;
Wherefore I know not what may be my hap:
But, come the worst, thou here must guard the house,
1551And aye to sire and mother both be kind
As now, or more, since I shall be away.
And should I not return to thee, abide
Until thou seest our babe upgrown and bearded,
When marry whom thou wilt and quit the house.
’Twas thus he spake, and thus ’tis come about:
And not far off that night of hateful marriage
Confronts me now; for Zeus hath killed my hope.
But ye add pain and anger to my grief,
1560Who come not in the manner of our sires
To woo, when every man that wooed a lady
Of substance, rank, and worth, vied with his equals
In gifts of flocks and herds, and banqueted
All the bride’s household, offering of his own;
Not wasting as do ye the house ye seek,
And without recompense.
241
Pen. Ay, true: to where your late amendment lies.
Let us o’erlook these offerings, ere my maids
Bear them away.
Eur.But first, O queen,
1570Take at my hands the gift I bring,
This yellow-glistening chain,—whereof
The amber beads may tell my love,
The mesh of golden work between,
The homage of my wealth may show,—
Worthy of any neck but thine:
No lover, mortal nor divine,
Who made so fair an offering,
But might with pride his gift bestow;
Tho’ not to thee Eurymachus.
1580Yet ’tis the best and richest thing
Of countless jewels rich and fine,
Stored in his house; and wouldst thou make
The rest thine own, he for love’s sake
Were not ashamed in giving thus.
Pen. My thanks: ’tis brave and sweet attire.
Long hath thy wealth been known to me,
And grateful would thy marriage be
Both to my brethren and my sire.
What have we here?
Ant.Lady, my gift.242
1590This ample robe my servants bear,
White as the snow’s fresh-wandered drift,
Light as the air and beautiful,
Is woven of the softest wool
Our curly highland chilvers wear;
Fresh from the loom: and on the robe
Twelve golden brooches, globe to globe,
With fretted clasps of Syrian art,
Which, brought by war to Egypt’s mart,
From thence—with many gawds beside,
Now mine—my grandsire took, when he, 1600
Crossing in ship the Libyan sea,
Sailed up the mighty river wide;
But these for beauty stood alone.
Pen. I thank thee. This I’ll not deny
For some misdeeds may well atone.
Who cometh next?
Amph.Lady, ’tis I:
And give my homage one kind word,
I shall not scorn to come but third.
My offering is this veil.
Pen. O wondrous work and rare! 1610
’Tis like the golden mail
Of Hera’s braided hair,
Which every step sets hovering,
Her brow discovering.
243
Amph. So ’tis most fit for thee,
Rarest Penelope.
Pen. Or such methinks love’s queen
Across her forehead tieth,
Whene’er along the green
1620Of river-banks she hieth,
To cheer with sweet embraces
Her sister graces.
Amph. Therefore most fit for thee,
Queenly Penelope.
Pen. Oh, ’tis most fine: I thank thee. Is’t thy meaning
That I should wear the veil?
Amph. ’Twould deck thee well.
Ul. (aside). Here is some favour shewn.
1630A suitor. See now my gift, O queen.
Ul. (aside to Amph.). Sir, I would speak with thee.
Amph.Nay, man; be silent.—
Pen. Ah, ’tis Peisander, what brings he?
The suitor. Lady, if ever thou didst see
Three dewdrops gathered full within
Some unawakened lily’s cup,
Each swollen to fall, or e’er begin
The stalks to dress themselves aright:
For yet the sun, that hasteth up,244
Pricks not their delicate stems,
1640Nor spreads the crimson petals bright:
That were an image of the gems
Which in this casket lie, a pair
Fit for thine ears to wear.
Pen. I thank thee, good Peisander; set it down
Here with the rest.
Ul. (aside to Amph.). Sir, I would speak with thee.
Amph. (to Ul.). Nay, stand aloof.—
Pen.Ye do me honour, lords;
Yet must reception end. I will take all,
And note the givers. Now my constant grief
Is strangely awakened. (To maids.) Gather up the gifts.
1650Ul. (aside to Amph.). Sir! speak with me.
Amph. (to Ul.). What wouldst thou?
Ant. See, the rogue
Begins to beg.
Eur.Lady, ere yet thou go,
Grant me thine ear. There is come into the hall
A beggar, who for mere propriety [Ul. sits.
We would were housed without. The prince, thy son,
Against our general comfort bids him here.
Let thy kind favour spare us this annoyance.
Ant.Lo! by the fire he sits.
245
Pen. (aside). How strange a man. (To Tel.) Is this thy guest, my son?
Pen. (to Tel.). Surely the complaint
Hath a fair ground. To save offence ’twere best
Dismiss him with some gift—I leave, my lords,
1662This matter where it lies: My son rules here.
Farewell. Keep peace amongst you.
(To maids.) Bear off the gifts. [Exit.
All. Farewell, fairest Penelope.
Eur. Ere now we sit again,
I ask the prince once more if he persist
To vex our party with this beggar’s presence.
Tel. Press me not, lords, ye know my will: and how
In night and darkness should I turn away
1670A houseless guest? Nay, but for you ’tis time
Ye sought your lodges.
Ant. (to Eum.). Thou presumptuous swineherd,
Why drovest thou this nuisance to the town?
Had we not tramps and scamps eno’, starved beggars
And needy scavengers, haunting the place,
Ravening thy master’s substance, that thou now
Must fetch in this one too?
Eum.Antinous,
Thou speak’st not fair, lord tho’ thou be; that here
Set at another’s board wouldst judge and grudge246
The spending of thy host. I know that thou
1680Art like the world, who bid unto their tables
But such as can repay them well in kind,
Or by some service or amusement made;
And none will ever ask a beggar-man
To help him eat. Thou too wast always hard
Above all here to all, and most to me.
But I care not, while my dear gracious mistress
Dwells with the prince, my master.
Tel. (aside to Eum.). Hush, Eumæus;
Truth is the hardest taunt to bear.
Ant.Thou hind!
Answerest thou me?
Tel.I laugh, Antinous,
1690To have thee play the master in this house.
Bid me dismiss my guest? The gods forfend!
Thee rather bid I help to entertain him.
Lo! thou hast feasted well: give off thy plate
Thy leavings to this beggar. Go, old man,—
These lords can of their surplus well afford
To furnish thee a supper,—go, I charge thee,
And take what each may give.
Ant.By Zeus in heaven,
Thou bear’st me hard. If all but give as I,
He shall not make the round.
Ul. (coming to Ant.). Sir, give me somewhat.247
1700Thou comest, I warrant, of no common stock,
But of some great house: thou’rt featured like a king:
Thou wilt not stint thy hand: and, treat me well,
It lies in chance I yet may make return.
For I too once had my own house, and lived
In state, nor e’er turned any from my doors,
Whoever he might be, whate’er his need.
I had my slaves and thralls, and all in plenty,
That rich men have; but Zeus made nought of all:
For his will surely ’twas, who sent me forth
1710With wandering pirates, sailing up the river
Of Egypt, a long voyage—and to my ruin:
For tarrying there, my crews in mutiny
Brake from me, and doing bloody violence
Unto the people of the king, were slain,
And I enslaved. But of the king’s good pleasure,
With whom I lacked not favour, I was sent
In time to Cyprus ...
Ant.Plague thee and thy lies!
Stand off, back from my table; lest thou come
To a bitter Egypt, and a mournful Cyprus.
Begone, I say.
1720Ul.Lo! now I see thou lackest
Wisdom unto thy beauty. Of thine own
Thou wouldst not give away a pinch of salt,
Since thou withholdest here what costs thee nothing.
248
Ant. Then take what I would give thee ere thou go.
[Strikes him.
Ul. Ha! wilt thou strike me!—Why, and even a blow
Thou giv’st not well.
Eum. To strike a man so old, thy fellow-guest!
Come back, good father, to thy seat.
Ul.Now, hear me,
Ye wooers of the queen, for I will speak.
1730Many hard blows in honourable fight
I have borne, and held them nought; but to be smitten
For being an-hungered, tho’ the hurt be small
’Tis huge in wrong; and as there is a god
To avenge the poor, I say this ill-bred lord
Shall never live to see his marriage day.
Ant.Now for thy paltry curse
Think thyself lucky I bid not my men
Hale thee without, and flay thee with their whips.
Some wooers (murmuring). How will Antinous woo our queen,
Having his hand accursed with shame?— 1740
Doth he forget the gods have been
In such disguise?—How Zeus once came249
Thus to Lycaon’s feast unbid:—
Or how in Celeus’ house, ’tis said,
Demeter at Eleusis hid?—
And were he but a man, ’tis dread
To smite in wrath the hoary head.
Amph. Father, I bring thee meat. May happiness
Ere long be thine, for what thou sufferest now.
1750Ul. (reseated at front, to Amph.). I thank thee, lord Amphinomus, and since
I see thee like thy father, wise and good,
Old Nisus of Dulichium, I will say
What thrice thou hast refused to hear: Attend.
Of all that moves and breathes upon the earth,
Nóthing is found more únstáble than man.
Awhile his spirit within him is gay, his limbs
Light, and he saith, No ill shall overtake me.
Then evil comes: and lo! he beareth it
Patiently, in its turn as God provides.
1760So I too once looked to be ever happy,
And gave the rein to wantonness, and now—
Thou seest me ... Wherefore, say I, let no man
Be lawless, but in quiet and reserve
Possess whatever good the gods have sent.
And this I witness ’gainst the deeds I see,
These wooers, full of mischief, making waste,
And doing such dishonour to a lady,250
1768Whose lord not long will tarry: nay, I tell thee
He is very near,—ay, near. May thy good genius
Withdraw thee soon, lest thou shouldst meet his wrath
When he returns: for not without blood-spilling
Will they be sundered, these infatuate wooers
And he, when he comes stepping thro’ his house.
Eur. What saith this ancient seer, that makes thy brow
To cloud?
Ul. (aside to Amph.) Fly hence to-night.
Amph.Ill hath been done him:
Shew him more kindness.
Eur.Why, methinks I see
A fine celestial glory on his crown,
So brightly gleams the torchlight on it: nay,
And never a hair at all. (To Ul.) Old man, ’tis true
1780Thou’rt out at elbows; wilt thou earn a living,
I’ll take thee on. If thou canst gather stones
Or trench, I’ll find thee wages and good food,
Ay, and a coat and shoes: but well I know
Thou’rt practised but in sloth, or if thou bend
Thy body, ’tis in louting thro’ the land
To beg thy bellyful.
Ul.Now, lord Eurymachus,
I would that there might be a trial of labour
’Twixt us in springtide, when the days grow long,251
In the deep grass; and I would have my scythe,
1790And thou another, striking blow for blow,
Fasting from dawn till dark: Or give us each
A plow, and for a team four sturdy oxen,
Frammard and toward to break up between us
A stubble of thirty acres; thou shouldst see
If I could veer out straight: Or would, I say,
That Zeus would send us war,—I care not whence,—
To-day;—then set a helmet on my brows,
And give me in either hand a spear and shield;
Thou shouldst not taunt me with my belly then.
1800Now art thou merely insolent and rough,
Because thy fellows are so few and feeble:
And if Ulysses came and faced thee here,
Those doors, wide as they are, would seem too small
And narrow for thee, in thy haste to fly.
Eur. Try thou their width then.
[Throws a stool and hits Ctesippus.
Ctes. (to Eur.). Now curse thee for a fool.
Take it back, thus: (throws) and mend thy aim.
Eur.Thy pardon, good Ctesippus!
Ctes. In time: thou’st broke my head.
252
Ant.By heaven, this beggar
1810Grows to be some one: let us drive him forth.
Eur. (to Amph.). Wilt thou protect him?
Tel. Lords, are ye mad? The god disturbs your wits.
Else what ye have drunk declares ’tis time ye part.
Ant. Then list to me. Let us begone, but first
Rouse we the game: start we this beggar hence,
And hunt him at the spear-point thro’ the town.
With me for sport!
Some wooers.Hie there, hie! Tally ho!
Eum. Not if I die for it.
Tel.Now, lords,
What keeps you back?
Re-enter suddenly Penelope with maids.
1820Pen. Shame, shame! what vile and drunken brawl is this,
That reaching to my chamber, brings me down
At mid of night in fear lest in your revels
Ye stain my floors with blood? Ah, now ye are shamed.
How rose this sudden uproar ’mongst you, lords?253
Honour ye not my son, that in his presence,
The morrow of his return, ye are broken forth
In more disordered noise than e’er before?
If ye respect not him, me ye respect:
Who answers for you?
Ant.That impertinent swineherd ...
Eur. The wretch I spake of ...
1830Ctes.Nay, Eurymachus,
’Twas thou as much.
Eur.O lady,
Thy son hath fetched a beggar in to mock us.
Pen. Telemachus, what is it?
Tel.Of this riot
The whole occasion lies but with these lords;
Who have raised their hands to strike their fellow-guest,
And as thou cam’st were risen to drive him forth.
Pen. I know not, sirs, what sort of man this is,
That so hath stirred your wrath: but be ye sure
That shelter offered here is shelter given.
1840Yet at your instance I will take upon me
To make enquiry, and will give your wishes
All fair allowance, as my older guests.
Meanwhile depart: ye have feasted long: depart:
’Tis time indeed: I bid you all good-night.
254
Eur. The queen has spoken, lords; depart at once.
Ant. The villain will escape us yet.
Ctes.He shall not,
If he go forth to-night.
Ant.And if he stay,
To-morrow I will serve him.
Ant. Fare thee well, prince; I shall return at morn.
Wooers. Good-night, rarest Penelope.— 1850
Fair queen of Ithaca, good-night.— [Going.
Eur. Until to-morrow, fairest queen, adieu. [Exit.
Pen. (to Eum.). Eumæus, hither; who is this old man?
Eum. Why ’tis a strange old man, and full of lies:
Yet ’tis an honest and a wise old man.
Pen. How full of lies and honest?
Eum.Gracious madam,
I have looked on many men, and by their gait
And voice and eyes are honest men well known;
And this old man is such: but when he speaks
1860Such floods of words run o’er his aged lips,
Ay, and such tales,—and ever when he draws
To make conclusion, ’tis the same old fable,
That he hath seen the master, that the master
Will soon return:—therefore I say he lies.
Pen. Hath he been with us long?
255
Eum.’Twas yestermorn
He came.
Pen. Enough. Thou mayst go home. Good-night.
Eum. Good-night, my lady. [Exit.
Pen.O my son, my son;
I think that years and use, which perfect others,
Serve but to blunt thy reason: as a child
1870Thou hadst a shrewder wit, and quick enough;
But now, when any man to look on thee
Would say that thou wert some one, thy behaviour
Would blast his praise.
Tel.Tell me what ill I have done.
Pen. What thou hast done? My heart was full of hope;
I looked for thy return as happiness,
How hast thou dashed it. I had well forgot
The empty tales thou broughtest me for tidings,
Nor marked the fault, seeing thy zeal in love
Outrun thy judgment: but when thou hast invited
1880Thy man to be our guest, and canst not then
Protect him: this is shame.
Tel.Mother, I think
To do a wrong is shame: to suffer wrong
Asks not for pardon.
Pen.Ay, but what to do?
Thy guest hath been insulted: hast thou power256
To punish that? and of the two reproaches,
To suffer it again, or to dismiss,
As must be, him to whom thou offeredst shelter,
I know not which is worse.
Tel.Wilt thou dismiss
The herald of such hope?
Pen.Eumæus saith
His tales are lies.
1890Tel.Speak with him but thyself:
Make proof thyself: if thou be not persuaded,
He shall not bide the night. Nay, if he lies,
Let him go starve. See, I will bring thee to him.
Pen. If so thou wilt. (To maids.) Maidens, begone. [Exeunt maids.
Tel.Old man,
The words which thou hast told me, now make good
Unto my honoured mother. [Exit.
Pen. Thou strange old man, whose thin and sorry rags
Speak thee no friend of heaven; whose many years
Find thee a wanderer in a foreign land;
1900Who art thou, I will ask, and with what tale
Winning my son, thou comest to the house
Of good Ulysses, and to me his wife
Pretendest tidings of my long-lost lord?
257
Ul. O lady, there is none in all the world
Would blame the word thou sayest, so fair thy fame:
Nay, for thy spirit is gentle: yet ask me not
Thus of myself, for I have seen much woe:
And tears might flood my face; till thou perchance
Shouldst think my temper soft, or drowned in wine.
Pen. Whate’er my fame, stranger, it lacketh much
1911In losing of my lord; if he were here
Then I were proud. But ’tis of him we speak.
Tell me then whence thou art, and what thou knowest.
Ul. If tell I must: there is a beauteous isle,
Which men call Crete, washed by the Libyan sea:
Ninety fair cities hath it, and the men
Who dwell there are of various race, Achæans,
Cydonians, Dorians, and Pelasgians,
Beside the native Cretan. There is Gnossus,
Where Minos dwelt, and took his law from Zeus:
1921He was my grandsire, and Deucalion
His son, my father, had another son
Idomeneus, elder and better gifted
Than I, who am callèd Æthon. Now it happed,
That when not many days, Idomeneus
Had sailed away for Troy, thy lord Ulysses,
Bound thither too, was driven aside to Crete,
And sheltered at Amnisos; and when thence
He sent up heralds to the king, as one258
1930Whose welcome was assured, it fell to me
To play awhile my elder brother’s part,
And entertain him and his men. Twelve days
He stayed, for even so long the mad North wind
Abated not, but with such fury blew
That far from putting out, they scarce could keep
Their feet on land: but on the thirteenth day
It fell, and let them forth to sail for Troy.
Pen. Friend then, if so thou art, that courtesy
Thus royal shewedst to my lord, forgive
1940My thought to prove thee, if indeed these things
Were as thou sayest. When thou sawest my lord,
How was he clad, and what lords followed him?
Ul. Lady, ’tis hard with such a time between
To say—’tis twenty years; and yet, methinks,
My memory shows him to me, as he was.
Thy lord Ulysses wore a purple robe
Of double woof, and on the golden brooch,
Which two pins held, was wrought a rare device;
A hound that had o’ertaken a hunted fawn,
Stood on’t and gazed: and none who saw the work
1951But marvelled, so was nature done to life.
The linen too about his neck was bright,
And fine in tissue as the silvery coat,
Which the lithe snake among the withered grass
Leaves off unrent. Ay, and his squire I see,259
A man round-shouldered, tanned, and curly-haired,
Eurybates, that was his name; and him
Ulysses loved and honoured ’bove the rest.
1959Pen. Now, stranger, for the shame, which thou hast found
Within my halls, shalt thou find love and honour.
The garments which thou sawest are the garments
I gave to him myself: the golden brooch
Of rare device I chose to be his jewel,
On that accursed day when he set forth
For evil Ilion, never to be named.
Ul. O honoured wife of great Laertes’ son,
Waste not thy soul in weeping for thy lord!
Pen. Hath sorrow taught thee, friend, that tears are vain?
Ul. Love’s tokens were not given to man for nought.
Pen. Blamest thou then a woman, if she weep
1971Her lord’s decease?
Ul.Nay, many dames that mourn
Their lords fordone at Troy, lament unblamed.
Pen. Then why say’st thou to me, weep not; who knowest
My loss so well, knewest so well my lord?
Ul. Since thy lord lives, therefore I say weep not.
Pen. I knew that thou wouldst say Ulysses lives.
Ul. ’Tis to no purpose then I bring thee joy?
260
Pen. Many have falsely brought this hope before.
Ul. And yet unwittingly they spake the truth.
Ulysses lives.
1980Pen.Prince Æthon, if so thou be,
I came to hear thy tale, ’twas well begun:
Shew proof as fair for what thou goest to tell.
Ul. Lady, indeed Ulysses lives, and now
He is in Thesprotia, as I lately heard,
And gathers gifts and treasures as he comes:
The which I saw, a kingly wealth, enough
To dower his children’s children o’er and o’er.
His brave companions all were gone, but he
From untold perils was come out unscathed.
Pen. Where learnedst thou this?1990
Ul.Being in Thesprotia
Not many days ago, the good king Pheidon
Told me these things, and shewed me too a ship
For voyage stored, wherein he said Ulysses
Should shortly sail; and with him I had come,
But that a vessel there discharging corn,
Left for Dulichium, and gave me passage.
Pen. Thou saw’st him not?
Ul.True, lady, I saw him not;
He had travelled to Dodona, to consult
The oracle.
Pen.Nay, and alas thou hast seen him261
Scarce later than have I.
2000Ul.May Zeus himself
Be witness first, and then this kindly house
Of good Ulysses, whither I am come,
He shall return to thee ere this moon change.
Pen. I thank thee, sir; and wish right well thy word
Might be accomplished: I would so reward thee,
That all who looked on thee should call thee blessed.
But in my heart I know ’twill not be so;
Nor shew’st thou proof.
Pen.Indeed
I doubt not thy good will, nor thy good faith;
2010But nought can come of it; and much I fear
That thou wilt scarce win escort from this house,
So are its masters changed.
Ul.Mean as I am,
I fear not them thou hintest; nor in thy house
Will they dare hurt me. I will here remain,
Until Ulysses comes.
Pen.O, thou knowest little.
Now is the end. I’ll tell thee. When at first
These princes came to woo me against my will,
I put them off with guile; and some good spirit
Prompting my heart, I set up in the hall
2020A loom, and rolled upon the beam a warp 262
Ample and long, and said My lordly wooers,
Abide, nor press my marriage till this cloth
Be made, for I would weave the threads I span.
’Tis old Laertes’ shroud, against the day
Which is not far, when death must take him hence.
For since my lord is dead, I would not leave
His house, without this honour paid his sire.
And stealing thus their courteous consent,
I used by day to weave, but every night
2030Would silently creep down, and by the loom
Setting the torches, soon unravelling all,
Undid the work of the day. Thus for three years
I wove and prospered, and the web stood still:
But in the fourth, by blabbing of my maidens
Was all discovered, and since then I have known
Reproach, nor now can longer ’scape. My friends
And parents urge me, and my son himself,
Who once was with me, begs me leave the house,
Ere his good father’s wealth be all consumed.
Ul. Well done of thee! Fear not. Ulysses cometh
2041To slay these robbers like a flock of sheep.
Pen. Against conviction, friend, thy words are pleasant:
None yet hath thus talked with me; and ere I go
To sleep or weep upon my lonely couch,
I’ll tell thee of a dream I lately dreamed,263
Much of thy meaning. There were twenty geese,
Which in the courtyard I had watched with pleasure,
Raising their bills above their well-filled trough.
2049Now in my dream a furious eagle flew
Down from the hills, and with his crooked beak
Brake all their necks, and killed them, and they lay
Strewn in the yard; but he flew off to heaven.
Then cried I out, as in my sleep it seemed,
Aloud, and all my maidens came about me,
And mourned with me my geese the eagle had killed.
But he returned, and perching on the wall,
Spake in man’s voice to me and said,
Fear not, O daughter of Icarius,
No dream thou sawest, but a vision true.
The geese are all thy wooers, and the eagle2060
That was, am now thy husband safe returned,
Who will slay all those men as thou hast seen.
Thus spake he, and I awaked; and looking forth
I saw my geese all standing by the trough,
Eating the wheaten meal as heretofore.
Ul. Now blessed be the gods, who thus will visit
In sleep the attentive spirits of them they love.
Pen. Two gates there are in heaven of shadowy dreams,
2069One pair of ivory wrought, and one of horn:
And dreams that through the ivory come to men264
Are cheating, and show things that shall not be;
But such as through the polished horn fly down
Are true in issue to their glad beholders:
But thence came not my strange dream as I fear,
Welcome as ’twere to me and to my son.
Ul. The dream was true; the interpretation true.
If yet thou doubt, me too a goddess sent
To warn thee of the thing, which thou, alas,
For weariness of hope and long misgiving,
2080Art slow to hear.
Pen.What is man’s hope, good friend?
Is’t not a beggar in the land of doubt,
Seeking as thou shelter and fire and food
From day to day? and, while she finds a little,
She travels on, comforting life’s affections
With scraps and crumbs fall’n from the dish of joy.
’Tis thus hope lives, patient and pleasureless:
But time will come when hope must die; she feels
The gathering cold and creeping touch of death,
And hath no thought but how to pass in peace.
2090Even such my hope, agèd and white as thou,
And near her term. Persist not! Rudely to arouse her
But hastens her sure end. Like in spent ashes
Which fuel chokes, what little fire remains
Burns best unmended.
Ul.Thou wouldst wrong the gods,265
Who show such care for thee.
Pen.Friend, what to do?
To-morrow I had purposed—ah, evil morn!—
To end disorder, and to do a thing
Should part me from this house. I had bethought me
Of good Ulysses’ bow, to bring it forth,
2100And make therewith a contest to the wooers;
That if among them there was one could string it,
And shoot an arrow thro’ the axes’ heads
Set up in line as he was used to set them,
That that man I would marry,—and with him
Quit my dear home for ever. Now thou say’st
Ulysses comes, give me thy counsel, friend,
If I should do this thing or wait awhile.
Ul. Lady, some god hath put it in thine heart:
Set thou the axes up: Bring forth the bow:
2110Here is there none can bend it; and maybe
That he, while they but strive with that same bow
Shall work thee full revenge for all their wrongs.
Ul.Fear not! To-morrow morn
Bring forth the bow, the axes, and the arrows.
Pen. And shall I marry him who shooteth true?
Ul. Thou shalt find here no archer like thy lord.
Pen. Then will the bow be offered them in vain?
Ul. More than in vain for them, but not for thee.
266
Pen. Be it so. Yet would I that pure Artemis
Might give me an easy death in sleep this night,
2121Even now; that I no more in sorrow of heart
Should waste my life, longing for my dear lord’s
Manifold excellence.
Ul.Thy constant love
Is witness that he lives. A rootless flower
Blooms not so long. Be sure that he will come.
Pen. Friend, all thy words console me: wert thou willing
I could sit here by thee, nor wish for sleep.
But ’tis full time I leave. I go to send
One to strew bedding for thee.—
Ul.Beseech thee, lady,
2130I’ll lay me on this fleece and take my rest.
A beggar such as I needeth no more.
Pen. The god of sleep visit thee soon. Farewell.
[Exit Penelope. The firelight is failing.
Now could I weep, and from the springs of pity
Forgive some wrong. Yet in the goddess’ hest,
Away my softness! Surely in these things
Is her hand seen. My bow! ay, from that bow
The arrows were not wont to fly in vain.
But now to find my son, my trust in him
2140Hath grown with this day’s doings.
267
Enter in the gallery above Maids whispering and
tittering.
See there he sits—
Hush! hush!
He talketh to the fire—
’Cause of his wandering wits.—
He! he! he! he!
What makes he here?—
He hath come over sea
With old tales of the sire.—
Why who would lend him ear?
2150He! he!
How could the prince give heed?—
How can our lady trust
This object of disgust?—
Or how hath she agreed
To take him here among
The wooers as her guest?
Half crazed too, I’ll be bound—
He! he! he! he!
And treat him like the rest,
2160So noble all and young?
Hush! hush!268
His old bones creak!
Hush! hush!
He looks, he turns around,
He sees us, he will speak.
Hush!
Ul. Ye miserable women, accurst of fate,
Unknowing on the eve of doom ye are come
To anger justice. Go! your wanton lovers
2170Are gone; ye never shall concern them more.
Nor none of them, nor ye that mock old men
Shall know what ’tis to have grey hairs. Begone!
For when Ulysses cometh, as men hang
Bunches of grapes upon a string to dry,
So shall he set you dangling in the court
By your white necks. Fly to your chambers! Fly!
Ulysses comes.
Maids. Ah, ah, ah! Mercy on us! [Exeunt.
Ul. Now first to find my son. If I dare call.
Softly—Telemachus!—Telemachus!
Tel. (enters L.). Father. 2180
Ul.Speak softly, son, lest any hear.
The goddess guides us well. The plot is laid:
’Tis but to tell it thee. I have won thy mother
To confidence, tho’ yet she knows me not.
To-morrow morn will she bring forth my bow,269
And make therewith a contest for the wooers,
Pledging to marry him who strings the bow,
And shoots an arrow through the axes’ heads.
Now thou must set them up, as I will shew thee,
In the outer court; that they who come to shoot
May stand where we are standing—as I was wont,—
2191Sending the arrows thro’ the open doorway.
But when ’tis seen that none can string the bow,
Then I shall take it, and be that our sign.
With the first shaft I loose a foe will fall,
And war begins; and when I speak my name,
Thou and Eumæus join me; for the rest,
Soon will they fly for safety to the court:
But let its outer gate be barred; then we
Here at the doorway can at leisure aim,
2200Nor fear not any numbers. Learn thy part:
To bar the gate of the court on the outer side,
To close the postern, and set up the axes.
And have good care their heads sit loose upon them,
Nor bound unto the shafts; else might they serve
For arms against us. As for other weapons
They bear not many: those that here be hung
Upon the walls, must we take down and hide.
Which, if thou help me now, may soon be done.
First let me put this blazing log aside,
Lest light betray us.
270
2210Tel.Father, how shall we see
To move the arms?
Ul.Now had the goddess made me
As blind as old, I should not need to grope
In my own house: and all, I have marked it well,
Hang where I hung them there: each spear and shield
I know the touch and weight of.
Tel.None hath dared
To change a thing.
Ul. And that and these. Have care, son, lest the bronze
Ring and betray us.
Tel.Now the helmet, father.
Ul. Reach me those spears above,
Tel.What is that light,
2220That dances so and plays about the beams?
Ul. Now mayst thou see the goddess aiding us.
Tel. It shimmers like the moonlight on the sea.
Ul. ’Tis the same fierce ethereal flame of heaven,
Which makes the lightning; but the wise Athenè
Hath tamed it for her common servicings.
Stay not to look on’t; ’tis to aid our work.
Tel. ’Tis certain we shall prosper.
Ul.Take thou those,271
I these. Follow me up the stair. Step slow
And soft. Let nothing in thy burden shift.
Come thou.
2230Ul.Stealthily, my son,
Soon shall we set them out of reach.
The same: ULYSSES and TELEMACHUS.
Look not thus sad, my son; the day hath dawned
Which ere it close shall see this house and me
Restored; for though the event seem perilous,
The goddess’ oath is sure. Look not thus sad.
Arouse resolve, and brace intention up
With thoughts to whet thy courage.
See, dear father,
All things as thou hast ordered have I done,
And whatsoever more thou bidst me do
2240I shall be glad and ready: fear me not;
Nor doubt my courage, if my heart is foolish
In asking one thing of thee.
Tel. I am sad for thee, father, that thy return
Must be in battle, when thou shouldst have come
In peace and merriment: and for my mother273
I grieve, that when her sorrow’s cause is fled,
Her joy must break so sternly: and for these halls
I mourn, that they must know the din of arms,
And bear the stain of life-blood. But not least
2250For these rash men I am sorry, who I know
In part deserve to die, and yet not all:
Being for the most of common parts, no ruder
Nor worse than others are: while to the worst
Forgiveness of their wrongs would be, methinks,
Nobler revenge, and as a punishment
Heavier than death.
Ul.What wouldst thou now, my son?
Tel. Reveal thyself, and bid them at the word
Depart in shame. If then they should not fly,
There were no help for it: fight.
Ul.The manliest hearts
Are gentle; and thy speech, son, would convince
2261My heart of malice, were my heart my guide:
But as thou without question me obeyest,
So I the goddess, in whose hands my life
Till now hath lain.
Tel.And will there be no mercy
Shown to thy servants, who have failed in trust?
Ul. Such justice only as shall separate
The false from the innocent. If I should swerve
Even in desire from what the goddess bade,274
She may desert me. Already hath my pity
2270Strained my obedience: yestereve I gave
Warning to fly to Lord Amphinomus;
For which if I be blamed, what is our risk?
At the hands of these wretches my death; or else
Return denied me to my proper self,
Condemned to live unrecognizable,
A withered, age-stricken beggar, full of scorn.
Tel. Already I love thee, even as now thou art.
Ul. O son, this shame stifles me. Where’s Eumæus?
I incline to tell him.
2279Tel.And there is one besides
Whom we may trust, the neatherd. When time came
To close the gate, I thought to take them with me.
Ul. Ay, do so, son; and order with them thus.
When none of all the lords can string the bow,
I will call for it: let Eumæus bring it:
’Twill rouse disorder; should thy mother tarry,
Make that excuse to bid her to her chamber.
When once she is gone, I shoot.
Tel.With them we are four.
Tel.They are hid beneath the stairs.
Ul. Keep we this side the hall, so shall our foes
The sooner seek the door.
2290Tel.Hush! see, they come!
275
Enter Eurymachus, Antinous, Ctesippus (others
following).
Eur.I prithee
What mean those axes planted in the court?
They mock my judgment.
Now I have wagered, prince,
They are set to root: the bronze is out of date;
They shall be grafted in the spring with iron.
Tel. The pleasantry is happier than the wager.
This being Apollo’s feast-day, ’tis proposed
To do him honour with some archery:
The axes are for mark.
Here’s something new:
2300What is’t?
Eur. The walls, the walls. They are bare of arms.
Why are they taken down?
Tel.Moving the axes,
’Twas found the arms, which in their place had hung
Untouched for twenty years, were much decayed276
And perished by the smoke: they are set aside,
Where they can be o’erlooked and cleansed from rust.
Enter Amphinomus, the rest after him.
Amph.What are these axes, prince,
Set in the court?
Tel.Since all will need to know,
Let me tell all. It being Apollo’s feast,
The queen, my mother, has decreed a trial
2310Of shooting in his honour; and the axes
Ye ask of, are the mark. She gives the prize:
The which, with the conditions of the contest,
She shall herself proclaim. Until she comes,
Sit ye in peace.
Ctes.Tell us what prize, I pray.
Eur.Be seated, lords, be seated!
Wooers (sitting). Can you explain? I am in the dark
How axes are an arrow’s mark?—
—The arrows, sir, are shot point blank
Through the axes’ heads set up in rank.
2320—And that is such a juggling feat,
That when you do it you cannot see’t.
277
Ant. Give us some wine. Ho, fellows!
Tel.Bear the wine
To lord Antinous.
Ctes.Plague him, whoe’er he be,
That put this ox-bone in my seat. Old scoundrel,
(To Ul.) I think ’twas thou: if not, I owe thee favours:
Here goes a present to thee.[Throws.
Tel.Now, Ctesippus,
Missing thine aim thou madest a better throw
Than was thy purpose. For by heaven I swear,
That hadst thou hit the stranger, at this moment
2330My spear were in thy body, and the gold
Thy father saveth for thy wedding-day,
He should have spent upon thy funeral.
Know henceforth all of you, what insolence
May look to meet from me. I have been a child,
And so ye have treated me; I am now a man,
Grant it or learn it. (To Ul.) Old man, take thy seat.
Wooers. Now if Ulysses ne’er came back,
We not for that a lord should lack:
So doth this son of his inherit
2340His masterful and haughty spirit.
Amph. Silence acknowledgeth a true rebuke.
There is nought to answer, lords: treat we this stranger278
With due respect. But to Telemachus
One word I speak in kindness. While hope was
Ulysses might return, he did but well
Discouraging our courtship of his mother;
But now, when hope is gone and all agree
He never can return, the prince should join
To urge the queen that she delay no more,
But wed the best man here: which were far better
2351Both for himself and for his father’s honour,
Than all this waste and rancour in his halls.
Tel. Nay, now by Zeus, and by my father’s griefs,
In no wise do I stay my mother’s marriage.
Rather I urge her marry whom she will.
But while she wills not, that one word of mine
Be breathed to drive her forth, the gods forbid.
To her speak, not to me. Lo you, she is here.
Wooers. The queen! silence! the queen!
Enter Penelope (with bow). Maids follow.
My noble suitors, hear me. The prince, my son,
2361Hath told you of the purpose of my coming:
Howe’er that be, attend. Ye have now long time
Besieged this widowed house, and day by day
Eating and drinking without end, abused
The absence of its lord; and ever in all279
Ye have still proclaimed one object, me to woo
And wed. Till now I have barred consent: to-day
I yield me to your urgence to declare
Whom I will choose: but since not willingly
2370I wed, I set my fortune with the gods
To guide and govern. Here is Ulysses’ bow:
With this contest, I pray you, among yourselves,
And I will be the prize. Yes, his am I
Who strings most easily this bow, and shoots
The truest arrow through the axes’ heads.
He is my husband and with him to day
Will I leave this fair house so dearly loved.
Eumæus, take the bow. Offer it now
In turn to all: and let all try in turn;
I will sit here and watch.
2380O honoured mistress,
What wilt thou do?
Alas, my tears run down:
I never thought to have seen this day.
Ant.Now, hinds,
Obey. Why weep ye, fools? Your lady needs
Encouragement, not pity. Swift obey,280
Or take your tears without, and leave the bow
To us for whom the prize is;—a prize, my lords,
Not lightly to be taken; for none I think
Will bend it as Ulysses did: none here
Is like the man, as I remember him
2390Long years ago, when I was but a lad.
Tel. Stay; are all here? This trial being for all,
Chance shall exclude none from it. In the house
Are ye full numbers?
Eur.Lords, let all sit down,
Each in his place.
Tel.Eumæus, go without,
And see that all be gathered in the court.
Wooers. The queen doth well.—’Tis just and plain,
All share the chance.—It goes for nought
To have boasted favour. They that brought
The costliest gifts have spent in vain.—
Now we may laugh, sirs.—Some that sought 2400
To overawe our equal claim
Are answered well.—I ever thought
She was a wise and honest dame. [They sit.
Eur. The places all are filled: none lacketh here.
Eum. (returning). All are assembled, prince, within the court.
Tel. Come forth in turn then, and assay the bow.281
I think Zeus robs me of my wits.—I laugh:
’Tis true I laugh.—Ye understand, my lords,
My wise and honoured mother hath declared
2410That she will wed a stranger, and go forth
And leave this house:—and I laugh and am glad!
Come then, I say; seeing this is the prize,
A lady without rival in the land;
What say I? Not in all the Achæan lands,
In sacred Pylos, Argos, or Mycenæ,
Or elsewhere. But ye know this, and indeed
Why should I praise my mother? Come, I call you;
Come forth, assay the bow. Who cometh first?
Why, now I see I am a fool; myself,
2420Why not myself? If I should string it best,
And easiest, and shoot truest at the mark,
Then I reserve the prize: my lady mother
Will never quit these halls. Yes, and I think
I have some phantom of my father’s strength.—
Eur. Nay, prince, this was not bargained.
Tel. It bends, it yields; but what you say is just;
’Tis not for me. Ye be the mighty men:
I hand it you.
Eur.Rise each in turn,
As the wine circles. First is Sir Leiodes,
The soothsayer.
282
2430Eum.Sir, mayst thou fail.
Leiod. Curse on thy tongue. I asked not thy goodwill.
Tel. (aside to Eum.). I need thy aid without: thou and the neatherd
Follow me thro’ the postern: let none see you.
Some wooers rise from their seats. Tel., Eum., and
neatherd go out by the postern door R.
Leiod. I cannot bend it: ’tis a deadly bow.
Ay, if I ever have spoken sooth, to-day
My spirit is true. This is no marrying bow.
’Twill prove our shame and death. Another take it.
I have done with it. We have all along been fooled;
Now more than ever. But if any yet
2440Hope for the lady, let him try the bow,
And then go woo another.
Ant.Think not, sir,
Because thy hands are white and delicate,
There be no men of sinew.
A suitor. ’Tis stiff and dry with age. Bring me some oil:
If it be rubbed therewith and warmed the while,
’Twill ease it mightily.
283
[They take it to the fire.
Chorus—Wooers (inter se).
What was it, friend, I heard thee say?—
Seest thou the arms, that in the hall
Were wont to hang, are gone to-day?—
Ay, so they be, sir, one and all.—2450
Mark you this dust beneath the wall?—
Well, sir, what of it?—hark, ’tis said
That, as Eumæus took last night
The axes from their rank o’erhead,
He saw a strange and fearful sight;
For all the arms, which never yet
Had been disturbed where they were set
By good Ulysses years ago,
Crumbled before his eyes; and lo!
2460Spear, helm, and shield, without a sound,
Fell down in dust upon the ground.—
That was an omen.—True, and we
The accomplishment to-day shall see.—
Ulysses’ reign is past and fled:—
Ay, and his spirit here hath been
To do this thing, knowing the queen
Should to another man be wed.
The suitor (2nd competitor). I cannot bend it.
3rd.Go to, sir, give it me.284
Thou heldst it wrongly,—but thus.—2469
2nd.Ay, teach me, shew me!
3rd. Ah! ah! ah! Nay, indeed it yieldeth not.
What is it made of? Were’t of Indian horn
I must have broke it. Bah! I have wrenched my back!
Eur. Sirs, ’tis my turn. Ye do us little honour.
’Tis warm to the hand, and well hath drunk the oil.
Now be I first to string it.
Wooers.See!
See he will do it if any can.—
He is the best, and so ’twill be.—
He standeth firm: it yieldeth now.—
Well done! Eurymachus will win.—
2480See how his striving body strains!—
Fixed like the image of a man
In stone he stands.—Now for it!-The veins
Stand out upon his darkening brow.—
It slowly yields.—He doth it—Nay,
It slippeth back.—He giveth in.—
He hath failed, he putteth it away.
Eur. My friends, I am hurt both for myself and all.
And were there but this woman in the world,
To miss her could but vex me as it doth.
2490But others be there, and my grief is other.
For that we came in strength so far behind
The great Ulysses, that we could not string285
His bow, will ring our shame in ears unborn.
Ant. That will not be, Eurymachus,—and thou know’st it.
This is Apollo’s feast, and on such day
Who should presume in archery? Sit down;
And let the bow and other gear abide.
Meanwhile pour out libations to the god,
And make a sacrifice. To-morrow morn,
2500Be he appeased, we may with his good favour
Find better fortune.
Eur.’Tis well spoke, my lords.
Consent ye all?
Eur.Then be it so.
What saith our honoured lady?
Pen.Well, my lords,
’Tis an untoward ending. Shall I think
Ye will not, or ye cannot?
Eur.Be content
To wait but till to-morrow, we beseech thee.—
Bring round the wine.
Tel. (who has entered unperceived with Eum. and
neatherd). Ho! men, take round the wine.
Eum. Will they not need it?
Ant.Thou impertinent swineherd,
Go to thy pigs.
286
Ul.Hear me,
2510Ye warriors, wooers of Ulysses’ queen,
And you, Antinous and Eurymachus
In chief! ’Tis well ye urge to stay the contest,
And pour libations, that the archer god
To-morrow may grant strength to whom he will.
But first give me the bow, that I may gauge
My strength with yours, to see if yet remains
Some muscle lithe of what once clothed my limbs,
Or if ’tis withered all with age and want.
Wooers. Ho! ho! The beggar thinks that he
2520Shall win the fair Penelope.
Ant. Thou wretched fool, thou hast even less wit than hairs:
Art not content in our high company
To sit at ease, and have thy share, and hear
Our talk, and see our pleasure ’gainst our will?
The unwonted wine dilates what brains thou hast,
To make thee think thou canst contend with us.
Pen. Antinous, I forbid this disrespect
Before me of my guest: and by my life
Thou dost him wrong. To me he seems as tall
2530And strongly built as thou; he boasts to be
No less well born:—I grant him place and speech.
Thinkest thou if he string Ulysses’ bow287
That I should wed him?—Nay, nor he thinks that.
Fret not yourselves, beseech you, with such fears.
Eur. Far be the thought, O wise Penelope:
And since he hath nought to gain, let him not try it:
Lest if he string it, men should say hereafter,
Naming our names, The great bow of Ulysses
2539These could not handle, but a beggar strung it.
Pen. Look ye to future times for fair renown?
That hath been forfeit long. Stick not at this.
Give him the bow; he too shall have his prize.
A king’s son is he: ay, and like a king
From this house shall he issue clad and armed
From head to foot, as are the best of you.
I say, give him the bow.
Tel.Mother, the bow is mine:
To give it or withhold it is my right,
And mine alone, which none can gainsay here.
And choose I now to give it to this beggar,
2550’Tis his to bear away for good and all.
And what I will, that shall I do. To me
Therefore leave this dispute: to-day the trial,
Thou seest, is closed. Retire thou to thy chamber,
And there at loom and distaff set thy maids their tasks.
But this, which looks not like to be a lady’s matter,
Is mine, for mine is lordship in this house.
288
Pen. Well, son, then I shall go. Follow me, maids.
Chor. Wooers. What hath come o’er the prince? and why
Bids he his royal mother hence:
2560Pushing his haughty speech so high
In strange, undutiful offence?
Ul. Bring me the bow that I may try my skill.
Wooers (to Eumæus). Stay! man, stay!—Whither wilt thou go,
Bearing the great resistless bow?
Stay. We will slay thee if thou dare!—
Forbear! Forbear!—
Tel. Standest thou! servest thou so many masters?
On man, and give it him: say thee nay who dares.
Wooers. Ha! ha! he knows not what to do:
2570Now he will go, and now he stands.—
Go, give it in the beggar’s hands.—
Ay, let him have it and welcome too.—
And thee, old man, may Fortune bless,
As thou therewith shalt find success.
Eum. (giving to Ul.). Master, O master!...
Ul. (aside). Silence.—Now may Apollo
Grant me but half the strength that once was mine,
And ye shall see if I can bend a bow.
Wooers. By heaven, the beggar hath an eye.—289
He holds it as he knew the trick.—
2580Perchance he hath the like laid by
At home.—Or ’tis his thought to try
To fashion such another stick.—
He bends it at his will.—’Tis done!—
’Tis done!—He hath strung it.—See ’tis done.
Ul. Behold, prince, if I have not been wrongly scorned.
Give me the arrows. Now they have seen my strength,
These lords belike would have me prove my skill.
Wooers. Now will he shoot? The villains bring
The arrows.—Ay, he taketh one,
2590To set it on the string.
Ul. Now is the irresoluble contest o’er:
Though what remains to do be not child’s play.
But I will hit a mark ye little think of.
Apollo aid me! [Shoots Antinous.
Wooers.Ah! Ah! Beware, beware!
Wooers. Oh, madman! madman! Seize him!
Amph. What hast thou done? Thou’st slain a man.
Wooers. He’s dead. Antinous is slain.
Other wooers (appearing at door). The lord Antinous is slain.
290
Eur. Foolhardy wretch, this murder is thy death.
2601Whether unwittingly, or wittingly,
It matters not: thou hast slain the noblest prince
Of the isle; and swiftly shall he be avenged.
Ul. (leaping up to where Penelope had sat. Tel., Eum.,
and neatherd join him). Dogs! ye that said I never should return
From Trojan soil: ye that would waste my house,
And woo my wife while yet I was alive:
Nor feared the gods in heav’n, nor shame of men:
Now are the bonds of death made fast upon you.
I am Ulysses.
Wooers.Ah, think you!—think you!
2610Wooers.Fly! fly!—’Tis he!
’Tis he, fly! See the prince, and there
His two men—Speak, sir! speak him fair—
Eur. Stay, sir, awhile, I pray thee. If thou indeed
Art he, the good Ulysses safe returned,
As by thy deeds and words thou makest to be,
Thou wilt hear reason, as thy speech is just.
’Tis true ill hath been done thee in house and field:
But he lies dead, who was the chief in blame;
We may rejoice, for he brought all about,
2620Antinous, less eager for the marriage 291
Or dower, than in ambitious hope, now quenched,
That he should reign in Ithaca:—to which end
He would have killed the prince. But, he being dead,
Spare thou thy folk, sir, spare thine own; and we
For all wrong done thee will repay in full,
Each one in answer for waste hitherto,
Bringing the worth of twenty oxen, ay,
And bronze and iron in plenty, till thy heart
Be well appeased, that now is justly stirred.
Ul. O nay: not though thou gavest me all thy wealth,
2631What now thou hast, or after shouldst inherit,
Could that be thine atonement; nor the like
Of each for each, that I should stay my hands
From slaying here the wooers of my wife.
This choice ye have, to fight or fly; but flying
Or fighting I shall slay you with these arrows.
Wooers (without). ’Tis he: he shooteth: fly.
Wooers (within). Wrath of the gods, ’tis he.
To arms!—Nay, fly.—O fly—
Ul. I am come late indeed, but in good time.
2641Amph. Out, sirs, haste thro’ the doors:
To-morrow it may be
He may be appeased; now fly.
Avoid his anger now. [They fly.
Eur. Fight. We shall overwhelm them. Follow me!
292
Ctes. Fly while we may, I say. [Exit.
Eum. Come, lord Eurymachus; and I will kill thee,
Even as a pig.
Eur.Death to thee, hind. Now charge!
Some wooers. Charge all together. Down!
2649Tel. Now, robbers, die.
Eur. Ah! ah! I am slain. [Falls dead.
The others.Fly, fly, fly, fly. [Exeunt.
Ul. While I stand here and shoot, fetch forth the arms. [Shoots.
Wooers (without). To the gate; to the gate. Ulysses is returned.
Fly, fly! Throw wide the gate. The gate, the gate!
Eum. Master, ’tis thou indeed: and I not know thee!
Ul. Serve me but now, as when thou knew’st me not. [Shoots. Cries.
Tel. See here thy shield, my father, and the spears.
Ul. Now forth with me and fear not, for the goddess
Is with us. We will stand upon the threshold,
And from that vantage fight. Be we hard pressed,
2660Retire within, and bar the door. Now forth!
[Exeunt Ul., Tel., Eum., and neatherd in fighting order.
The doors close behind them.
293
Re-enter Penelope and maids.
Maids (entering down the stairs).
They are gone: they are gone without. The hall is still.
Pen. Hark! hark! They fight without. Telemachus,
Telemachus, my son! Ah! evil day!
The bow, the bow. And corpses in the hall.
1st Maid. Woe, woe: see ’tis the lord Eurymachus,
Slain by a spear.
2nd Maid. Another by the wall.
Beauteous Antinous. Alas, alas!
Pen. Hark how they shout. Alas, my son, my son!
They slay him in the court. His haughty spirit
2670Proudly rebuking them hath done it. I hear
His speech that taunts them still.
2nd Maid.Shall I look forth?
1st. Ay, to the door and spy—Softly one wing
Draw back and spy between. (Here the door is opened by Maid 2.) Ah me, the noise,
And din of arms.
2nd.Lady, the prince is safe.
Pen. What seest thou? tell me.
2nd.O, but see thyself
The deadly fight.
Pen.I dare not look upon it.
Who fights ’gainst whom?
294
2nd.The beggar on the stair
Deals death around, and by him stand the prince,
The neatherd, and Eumæus. Ah! he is struck!
Nay, nay. They keep all off with spear and shield.
Pen. Alas, the shrieks of death. I faint, ho! help me.
Lead me to the chair. [Sits down.
1st.They may burst in: beseech thee,
2681Back to thy chamber!
Pen.Nay, if my son be safe.
Watch there, and tell me.—Is he yet unhurt?
2nd. They spring upon the beggar and the prince,
And as they spring, they are slain.—They lie in heaps.
Pen. Alas! what cries! Say, is the prince still safe?
2nd. He shieldeth himself well, and striketh surely.
His foes fall dead before him. Ah! now what see I?
Who cometh? Lo! a dazzling helm, a spear
2690Of silver or electron; sharp and swift
The piercings. How they fall. Ha, shields are raised
In vain. I am blinded, or the beggar-man
Hath waxed in strength. He is changed, he is young. O strange!
He is all in golden armour. These are gods,
That slay the wooers. (Runs to Pen.) O lady, forgive me!
’Tis Ares’ self. I saw his crispèd beard:
I saw beneath his helm his curling locks.295
None will escape. O lady, save me, save me. [Kneels.
Maids all. Let them not slay us. Lady! lady! forgive us!2699
Pen. Why kneelest thou to me? Fools, why to me?
I have nothing to forgive you. There is no wrong
’Twixt me and you: Or if the gods should punish,
Can I protect?
Maids.Forgive us, queen, forgive us!
Pen. I see ye are dazed—no wonder.—The thing is true
Ye say. The gods are come. I know it: I spake
With one myself unweeting: and he bade
Confront those robbers with the bow of death.
That hath provoked our fate. Ah, cursèd day
The Greeks set forth for Troy. Accurst was Helen,
2710Accurst was Menelaus, Agamemnon
Accurst, who o’er us drew a net of ill:
Whence since is no escape, no not for one.
Not Ilion burned, not Greece made bare of men,
Not ten years’ war, nor to their widowed homes
The barred return of heroes could suffice
To fill the cup of evil, which the gods,
Dooming one deed of all the deeds of men,
The folly of one woman and one man,
Have heaped upon us. Now the unending slaughter
Falls on this house. Was joy, or woe, my crime?296
To have had, or lost the best of all the Greeks?
2722My patience, watching twenty years, or now
To have yielded but a little? O ye high gods,
Smite all ill-doers; ay, smite me with death,
Triumphant Ares, if within my body,
My lord being dead, there is either hope or love
That may be callèd life. I would not live,
I have no cause to live: but O my son—
Spare him!
2nd Maid. O lady, ’tis not him, but us
Ares will slay.
27302nd.I fear.
’Tis now more dread than ever. The cries have ceased.
Pen. Hush, hark—ay, all is still. Look forth, I say.
Re-enter Tel., Eum., and neatherd.
My son, my son, thou livest.
Tel.Thou art here! thou knowest?
Pen. What means this fight? what hath been done?
Tel.Thou knowest not?
The robbers are all slain.
Tel.My father297
Is here.
Tel.He hath returned—’Tis true—
And in his vengeance slain them all.
Tel. Mother, believe: our sorrow is o’er. ’Tis he,
The man disguised, who spake with thee last night:
But now himself.
2740Eum.O lady, ’tis the master,
Just as he was.
Tel.The tidings hath o’ercome her.
Stand from before her.
Re-enter Ulysses, as himself.
Ul. Now o’er my threshold step I as myself,
None will gainsay my coming. Ah here, my son!
Tel. She learned her joy too quickly. As I spake
She fell back swooning.
Ul.Watch by her awhile.
(To Eum. and neatherd.) Drag ye these bodies forth, and hide the blood;
That there be nought to shock her wakening sense.
And all ye maids begone. I know to winnow
Good wheat from chaff: and what I spake to you
Shall be to-day accomplished. (Exeunt Maids.) Ha, what see I?2751298
Beneath yon skins a coward skulks—one more—
Traitor, come forth!
Phem. (appearing from under skins). O my good lord and master,
Have pity upon me.
Ul. (to Eum.). Take him to the court,
And slay him there.
Phem.Master, have pity on me:
I am but a minstrel, and have done no wrong.
Tel. Father, I plead for him: ’tis Phemius.
Spare him.
Ul.Well, be thou spared;—the only one—
And live to tell the tale. See, ’tis thy trade.
Go from the hall. [Exeunt Phemius and neatherd.
2760(To Tel.) Now all is ready, son:
Doth she not wake?
Tel.Ay, now I think she awakes.
Ul. Stand thou in sight. Now, dearest wife, awake!
Wife, wife, awake! That word and in my voice
Should call thee from the grave. Dost thou not hear?
Ul.I speak to thee again.
Ul. I hold thee, and thou me. ’Tis I. I kiss thee.
299
Pen. ’Tis thou. Let it be waking life, or death,
Or dream, I see thee.—
Ul. Truest and bravest heart, our patient years
2770Are crowned with joy.
Pen.O love, thou comest in time.
Athena appears on the threshold.
My work is done. But ere I leave the haunts
Of sorrowing and rejoicing men, I look
To bless my work. O wise son of Laertes,
Thou hast thy house and wife and self restored.
Murder, strife, robbery, the wrongs I hate,
Revellings and insolence are now avenged.
Yet not less am I foe to faithlessness,
Breaches of trust and of those modest laws,
Which guard high thoughts and heavenly purity.
Thy wicked servants slay; which done, make soon
2781Purification of thy house defiled:
And not forget the oracle, which said
That thou shouldst find one journey more to make;
This thy atonement: and since justice holds
The crown for good deeds, as the sword for ill,
Grudge not this only absence: thy good servant
Thou wouldst reward; he is a prince; restore him300
Unto his kingdom: ’tis the will of Zeus.
He that hath servèd well hath earned to reign.
2790Son of Laertes, wilt thou do this thing?
Ul. Yea, goddess, I will do it. Thy will is mine.
Eum. (kneeling). Most honoured of all masters!