Public Domain Poetry And Stories - Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book XVIII by William Cowper
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Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book XVIII

    By William Cowper



    ARGUMENT

    The beggar Irus arrives at the palace; a combat takes place between him and Ulysses, in which Irus is by one blow vanquished. Penelope appears to the suitors, and having reminded them of the presents which she had a right to expect from them, receives a gift from each. Eurymachus, provoked by a speech of Ulysses, flings a foot-stool at him, which knocks down the cup-bearer; a general tumult is the consequence, which continues, till by the advice of Telemachus, seconded by Amphinomus, the suitors retire to their respective homes.


            Now came a public mendicant, a man
            Accustom'd, seeking alms, to roam the streets
            Of Ithaca; one never sated yet
            With food or drink; yet muscle had he none,
            Or strength of limb, though giant-built in show.
            Arnæus was the name which at his birth
            His mother gave him, but the youthful band
            Of suitors, whom as messenger he served,
            All named him Irus. He, arriving, sought
            To drive Ulysses forth from his own home,
            And in rough accents rude him thus rebuked.
                Forth from the porch, old man! lest by the foot
            I drag thee quickly forth. Seest not how all
            Wink on me, and by signs give me command
            To drag thee hence? nor is it aught but shame
            That checks me. Yet arise, lest soon with fists
            Thou force me to adjust our diff'rence.
                To whom Ulysses, low'ring dark, replied.
            Peace, fellow! neither word nor deed of mine
            Wrongs thee, nor feel I envy at the boon,
            However plentiful, which thou receiv'st.
            The sill may hold us both; thou dost not well
            To envy others; thou appear'st like me
            A vagrant; plenty is the gift of heav'n.
            But urge me not to trial of our fists,
            Lest thou provoke me, and I stain with blood
            Thy bosom and thy lips, old as I am.
            So, my attendance should to-morrow prove
            More tranquil here; for thou should'st leave, I judge,
            Ulysses' mansion, never to return.
                Then answer'd Irus, kindling with disdain.
            Gods! with what volubility of speech
            The table-hunter prates, like an old hag
            Collied with chimney-smutch! but ah beware!
            For I intend thee mischief, and to dash
            With both hands ev'ry grinder from thy gums,
            As men untooth a pig pilf'ring the corn.
            Come--gird thee, that all here may view the strife--
            But how wilt thou oppose one young as I?
                Thus on the threshold of the lofty gate
            They, wrangling, chafed each other, whose dispute
            The high-born youth Antinoüs mark'd; he laugh'd
            Delighted, and the suitors thus address'd.
                Oh friends! no pastime ever yet occurr'd
            Pleasant as this which, now, the Gods themselves
            Afford us. Irus and the stranger brawl
            As they would box. Haste--let us urge them on.
                He said; at once loud-laughing all arose;
            The ill-clad disputants they round about
            Encompass'd, and Antinoüs thus began.
                Attend ye noble suitors to my voice.
            Two paunches lie of goats here on the fire,
            Which fill'd with fat and blood we set apart
            For supper; he who conquers, and in force
            Superior proves, shall freely take the paunch
            Which he prefers, and shall with us thenceforth
            Feast always; neither will we here admit
            Poor man beside to beg at our repasts.
                He spake, whom all approved; next, artful Chief
            Ulysses thus, dissembling, them address'd.
                Princes! unequal is the strife between
            A young man and an old with mis'ry worn;
            But hunger, always counsellor of ill,
            Me moves to fight, that many a bruise received,
            I may be foil'd at last. Now swear ye all
            A solemn oath, that none, for Irus' sake
            Shall, interposing, smite me with his fist
            Clandestine, forcing me to yield the prize.
                He ceas'd, and, as he bade, all present swore
            A solemn oath; then thus, amid them all
            Standing, Telemachus majestic spake.
                Guest! if thy courage and thy manly mind
            Prompt thee to banish this man hence, no force
            Fear thou beside, for who smites thee, shall find
            Yet other foes to cope with; I am here
            In the host's office, and the royal Chiefs
            Eurymachus and Antinoüs, alike
            Discrete, accord unanimous with me.
                He ceas'd, whom all approved. Then, with his rags
            Ulysses braced for decency his loins
            Around, but gave to view his brawny thighs
            Proportion'd fair, and stripp'd his shoulders broad,
            His chest and arms robust; while, at his side,
            Dilating more the Hero's limbs and more
            Minerva stood; the assembly with fixt eyes
            Astonish'd gazed on him, and, looking full
            On his next friend, a suitor thus remark'd.
                Irus shall be in Irus found no more.
            He hath pull'd evil on himself. What thewes
            And what a haunch the senior's tatters hid!
                So he--meantime in Irus' heart arose
            Horrible tumult; yet, his loins by force
            Girding, the servants dragg'd him to the fight
            Pale, and his flesh all quiv'ring as he came;
            Whose terrors thus Antinoüs sharp rebuked.
                Now, wherefore liv'st, and why wast ever born
            Thou mountain-mass of earth! if such dismay
            Shake thee at thought of combat with a man
            Ancient as he, and worn with many woes?
            But mark, I threaten not in vain; should he
            O'ercome thee, and in force superior prove,
            To Echetus thou go'st; my sable bark
            Shall waft thee to Epirus, where he reigns
            Enemy of mankind; of nose and ears
            He shall despoil thee with his ruthless steel,
            And tearing by the roots the parts away[79]
            That mark thy sex, shall cast them to the dogs.
                He said; His limbs new terrors at that sound
            Shook under him; into the middle space
            They led him, and each raised his hands on high.
            Then doubtful stood Ulysses toil-inured,
            Whether to strike him lifeless to the earth
            At once, or fell him with a managed blow.
            To smite with managed force at length he chose
            As wisest, lest, betray'd by his own strength,
            He should be known. With elevated fists
            Both stood; him Irus on the shoulder struck,
            But he his adversary on the neck
            Pash'd close beneath his ear; he split the bones,
            And blood in sable streams ran from his mouth.
            With many an hideous yell he dropp'd, his teeth
            Chatter'd, and with his heels he drumm'd the ground.
            The wooers, at that sight, lifting their hands
            In glad surprize, laugh'd all their breath away.
            Then, through the vestibule, and right across
            The court, Ulysses dragg'd him by the foot
            Into the portico, where propping him
            Against the wall, and giving him his staff,
            In accents wing'd he bade him thus farewell.
                There seated now, dogs drive and swine away,
            Nor claim (thyself so base) supreme controul
            O'er other guests and mendicants, lest harm
            Reach thee, hereafter, heavier still than this.
                So saying, his tatter'd wallet o'er his back
            He threw suspended by its leathern twist,
            And tow'rd the threshold turning, sat again,
            They laughing ceaseless still, the palace-door
            Re-enter'd, and him, courteous, thus bespake.
                Jove, and all Jove's assessors in the skies
            Vouchsafe thee, stranger, whatsoe'er it be,
            Thy heart's desire! who hast our ears reliev'd
            From that insatiate beggar's irksome tone.
            Soon to Epirus he shall go dispatch'd
            To Echetus the King, pest of mankind.
                So they, to whose propitious words the Chief
            Listen'd delighted. Then Antinoüs placed
            The paunch before him, and Amphinomus
            Two loaves, selected from the rest; he fill'd
            A goblet also, drank to him, and said,
                My father, hail! O stranger, be thy lot
            Hereafter blest, though adverse now and hard!
                To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
            To me, Amphinomus, endued thou seem'st
            With much discretion, who art also son
            Of such a sire, whose fair report I know,
            Dulichian Nysus, opulent and good.
            Fame speaks thee his, and thou appear'st a man
            Judicious; hear me, therefore; mark me well.
            Earth nourishes, of all that breathe or creep,
            No creature weak as man; for while the Gods
            Grant him prosperity and health, no fear
            Hath he, or thought, that he shall ever mourn;
            But when the Gods with evils unforeseen
            Smite him, he bears them with a grudging mind;
            For such as the complexion of his lot
            By the appointment of the Sire of all,
            Such is the colour of the mind of man.
            I, too, have been familiar in my day
            With wealth and ease, but I was then self-will'd,
            And many wrong'd, embolden'd by the thought
            Of my own father's and my brethren's pow'r.
            Let no man, therefore, be unjust, but each
            Use modestly what gift soe'er of heav'n.
            So do not these. These ever bent I see
            On deeds injurious, the possessions large
            Consuming, and dishonouring the wife
            Of one, who will not, as I judge, remain
            Long absent from his home, but is, perchance,
            Ev'n at the door. Thee, therefore, may the Gods
            Steal hence in time! ah, meet not his return
            To his own country! for they will not part,
            (He and the suitors) without blood, I think,
            If once he enter at these gates again!
                He ended, and, libation pouring, quaff'd
            The generous juice, then in the prince's hand
            Replaced the cup; he, pensive, and his head
            Inclining low, pass'd from him; for his heart
            Forboded ill; yet 'scaped not even he,
            But in the snare of Pallas caught, his life
            To the heroic arm and spear resign'd
            Of brave Telemachus. Reaching, at length,
            The seat whence he had ris'n, he sat again.
                Minerva then, Goddess, cærulean-eyed,
            Prompted Icarius' daughter to appear
            Before the suitors; so to expose the more
            Their drift iniquitous, and that herself
            More bright than ever in her husband's eyes
            Might shine, and in her son's. Much mirth she feign'd,[80]
            And, bursting into laughter, thus began.
                I wish, Eurynome! (who never felt
            That wish till now) though I detest them all,
            To appear before the suitors, in whose ears
            I will admonish, for his good, my son,
            Not to associate with that lawless crew
            Too much, who speak him fair, but foul intend.
                Then answer thus Eurynome return'd.
            My daughter! wisely hast thou said and well.
            Go! bathe thee and anoint thy face, then give
            To thy dear son such counsel as thou wilt
            Without reserve; but shew not there thy cheeks
            Sullied with tears, for profit none accrues
            From grief like thine, that never knows a change.
            And he is now bearded, and hath attained
            That age which thou wast wont with warmest pray'r
            To implore the Gods that he might live to see.
                Her answer'd then Penelope discrete.
            Persuade not me, though studious of my good,
            To bathe, Eurynome! or to anoint
            My face with oil; for all my charms the Gods
            Inhabitants of Olympus then destroy'd,
            When he, embarking, left me. Go, command
            Hippodamia and Autonöe
            That they attend me to the hall, and wait
            Beside me there; for decency forbids
            That I should enter to the men, alone.
                She ceas'd, and through the house the ancient dame
            Hasted to summon whom she had enjoin'd.
                But Pallas, Goddess of the azure eyes,
            Diffused, meantime, the kindly dew of sleep
            Around Icarius' daughter; on her couch
            Reclining, soon as she reclin'd, she dozed,
            And yielded to soft slumber all her frame.
            Then, that the suitors might admire her more,
            The glorious Goddess cloath'd her, as she lay,
            With beauty of the skies; her lovely face
            She with ambrosia purified, with such
            As Cytherea chaplet-crown'd employs
            Herself, when in the eye-ensnaring dance
            She joins the Graces; to a statelier height
            Beneath her touch, and ampler size she grew,
            And fairer than the elephantine bone
            Fresh from the carver's hand. These gifts conferr'd
            Divine, the awful Deity retired.
            And now, loud-prattling as they came, arrived
            Her handmaids; sleep forsook her at the sound,
            She wiped away a tear, and thus she said.
                Me gentle sleep, sad mourner as I am,
            Hath here involved. O would that by a death
            As gentle chaste Diana would herself
            This moment set me free, that I might waste
            My life no longer in heart-felt regret
            Of a lamented husband's various worth
            And virtue, for in Greece no Peer had he!
                She said, and through her chambers' stately door
            Issuing, descended; neither went she sole,
            But with those two fair menials of her train.
            Arriving, most majestic of her sex,
            In presence of the num'rous guests, beneath
            The portal of the stately dome she stood
            Between her maidens, with her lucid veil
            Mantling her lovely cheeks. Then, ev'ry knee
            Trembled, and ev'ry heart with am'rous heat
            Dissolv'd, her charms all coveting alike,
            While to Telemachus her son she spake.
                Telemachus! thou art no longer wise
            As once thou wast, and even when a child.
            For thriven as thou art, and at full size
            Arrived of man, so fair proportion'd, too,
            That ev'n a stranger, looking on thy growth
            And beauty, would pronounce thee nobly born,
            Yet is thy intellect still immature.
            For what is this? why suffer'st thou a guest
            To be abused in thy own palace? how?
            Know'st not that if the stranger seated here
            Endure vexation, the disgrace is thine?
                Her answer'd, then, Telemachus discrete.
            I blame thee not, my mother, that thou feel'st
            Thine anger moved; yet want I not a mind
            Able to mark and to discern between
            Evil and good, child as I lately was,
            Although I find not promptitude of thought
            Sufficient always, overaw'd and check'd
            By such a multitude, all bent alike
            On mischief, of whom none takes part with me.
            But Irus and the stranger have not fought,
            Urged by the suitors, and the stranger prov'd
            Victorious; yes--heav'n knows how much I wish
            That, (in the palace some, some in the court)
            The suitors all sat vanquish'd, with their heads
            Depending low, and with enfeebled limbs,
            Even as that same Irus, while I speak,
            With chin on bosom propp'd at the hall-gate
            Sits drunkard-like, incapable to stand
            Erect, or to regain his proper home.
                So they; and now addressing to the Queen
            His speech, Eurymachus thus interposed.
                O daughter of Icarius! could all eyes
            Throughout Iäsian Argos[81] view thy charms,
            Discrete Penelope! more suitors still
            Assembling in thy courts would banquet here
            From morn to eve; for thou surpassest far
            In beauty, stature, worth, all womankind.
                To whom replied Penelope discrete.
            The Gods, Eurymachus! reduced to nought
            My virtue, beauty, stature, when the Greeks,
            Whom my Ulysses follow'd, sail'd to Troy.
            Could he, returning, my domestic charge
            Himself intend, far better would my fame
            Be so secured, and wider far diffused.
            But I am wretched now, such storms the Gods
            Of woe have sent me. When he left his home,
            Clasping my wrist with his right hand, he said.
                My love! for I imagine not that all
            The warrior Greeks shall safe from Troy return,
            Since fame reports the Trojans brave in fight,
            Skill'd in the spear, mighty to draw the bow,
            And nimble vaulters to the backs of steeds
            High-mettled, which to speediest issue bring
            The dreadful struggle of all-wasting war--
            I know not, therefore, whether heav'n intend
            My safe return, or I must perish there.
            But manage thou at home. Cherish, as now,
            While I am absent, or more dearly still
            My parents, and what time our son thou seest
            Mature, then wed; wed even whom thou wilt,
            And hence to a new home.--Such were his words,
            All which shall full accomplishment ere long
            Receive. The day is near, when hapless I,
            Lost to all comfort by the will of Jove,
            Must meet the nuptials that my soul abhors.
            But this thought now afflicts me, and my mind
            Continual haunts. Such was not heretofore
            The suitors' custom'd practice; all who chose
            To engage in competition for a wife
            Well-qualitied and well-endow'd, produced
            From their own herds and fatted flocks a feast
            For the bride's friends, and splendid presents made,
            But never ate as ye, at others' cost.
                She ceased; then brave Ulysses toil-inured
            Rejoiced that, soothing them, she sought to draw
            From each some gift, although on other views,
            And more important far, himself intent.
                Then thus Antinoüs, Eupithes' son.
            Icarius' daughter wise! only accept
            Such gifts as we shall bring, for gifts demand
            That grace, nor can be decently refused;
            But to our rural labours, or elsewhere
            Depart not we, till first thy choice be made
            Of the Achaian, chief in thy esteem.
                Antinoüs spake, whose answer all approved.
            Then each dispatch'd his herald who should bring
            His master's gift. Antinoüs' herald, first
            A mantle of surpassing beauty brought,
            Wide, various, with no fewer clasps adorn'd
            Than twelve, all golden, and to ev'ry clasp
            Was fitted opposite its eye exact.
            Next, to Eurymachus his herald bore
            A necklace of wrought gold, with amber rich
            Bestudded, ev'ry bead bright as a sun.
            Two servants for Eurydamas produced
            Ear-pendants fashion'd with laborious art,
            Broad, triple-gemm'd, of brilliant light profuse.
            The herald of Polyctor's son, the prince
            Pisander, brought a collar to his Lord,
            A sumptuous ornament. Each Greecian gave,
            And each a gift dissimilar from all.
            Then, loveliest of her sex, turning away,
            She sought her chamber, whom her maidens fair
            Attended, charged with those illustrious gifts.
            Then turn'd, they all to dance and pleasant song
            Joyous, expecting the approach of ev'n.
            Ere long the dusky evening came, and them
            Found sporting still. Then, placing in the hall
            Three hearths that should illumine wide the house,
            They compass'd them around with fuel-wood
            Long-season'd and new-split, mingling the sticks
            With torches. The attendant women watch'd
            And fed those fires by turns, to whom, himself,
            Their unknown Sov'reign thus his speech address'd.
                Ye maidens of the long-regretted Chief
            Ulysses! to the inner-courts retire,
            And to your virtuous Queen, that following there
            Your sev'ral tasks, spinning and combing wool,
            Ye may amuse her; I, meantime, for these
            Will furnish light, and should they chuse to stay
            Till golden morn appear, they shall not tire
            My patience aught, for I can much endure.
                He said; they, titt'ring, on each other gazed.
            But one, Melantho with the blooming cheeks,
            Rebuked him rudely. Dolius was her sire,
            But by Penelope she had been reared
            With care maternal, and in infant years
            Supplied with many a toy; yet even she
            Felt not her mistress' sorrows in her heart,
            But, of Eurymachus enamour'd, oft
            His lewd embraces met; she, with sharp speech
            Reproachful, to Ulysses thus replied.
                Why--what a brainsick vagabond art thou!
            Who neither wilt to the smith's forge retire
            For sleep, nor to the public portico,
            But here remaining, with audacious prate
            Disturb'st this num'rous company, restrain'd
            By no respect or fear; either thou art
            With wine intoxicated, or, perchance,
            Art always fool, and therefore babblest now.
            Say, art thou drunk with joy that thou hast foiled
            The beggar Irus? Tremble, lest a man
            Stronger than Irus suddenly arise,
            Who on thy temples pelting thee with blows
            Far heavier than his, shall drive thee hence
            With many a bruise, and foul with thy own blood.
                To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied.
            Snarler! Telemachus shall be inform'd
            This moment of thy eloquent harangue,
            That he may hew thee for it, limb from limb.
                So saying, he scared the women; back they flew
            Into the house, but each with falt'ring knees
            Through dread, for they believ'd his threats sincere.
            He, then illumin'd by the triple blaze,
            Watch'd close the lights, busy from hearth to hearth,
            But in his soul, meantime, far other thoughts
            Revolved, tremendous, not conceived in vain.
                Nor Pallas (that they might exasp'rate more
            Laertes' son) permitted to abstain
            From heart-corroding bitterness of speech
            Those suitors proud, of whom Eurymachus,
            Offspring of Polybus, while thus he jeer'd
            Ulysses, set the others in a roar.
                Hear me, ye suitors of the illustrious Queen!
            I shall promulge my thought. This man, methinks,
            Not unconducted by the Gods, hath reach'd
            Ulysses' mansion, for to me the light
            Of yonder torches altogether seems
            His own, an emanation from his head,
            Which not the smallest growth of hair obscures.
                He ended; and the city-waster Chief
            Himself accosted next. Art thou disposed
            To serve me, friend! would I afford thee hire,
            A labourer at my farm? thou shalt not want
            Sufficient wages; thou may'st there collect
            Stones for my fences, and may'st plant my oaks,
            For which I would supply thee all the year
            With food, and cloaths, and sandals for thy feet.
            But thou hast learn'd less creditable arts,
            Nor hast a will to work, preferring much
            By beggary from others to extort
            Wherewith to feed thy never-sated maw.
                Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return'd.
            Forbear, Eurymachus; for were we match'd
            In work against each other, thou and I,
            Mowing in spring-time, when the days are long,
            I with my well-bent sickle in my hand,
            Thou arm'd with one as keen, for trial sake
            Of our ability to toil unfed
            Till night, grass still sufficing for the proof.--
            Or if, again, it were our task to drive
            Yoked oxen of the noblest breed, sleek-hair'd,
            Big-limb'd, both batten'd to the full with grass,
            Their age and aptitude for work the same
            Not soon to be fatigued, and were the field
            In size four acres, with a glebe through which
            The share might smoothly slide, then should'st thou see
            How strait my furrow should be cut and true.--
            Or should Saturnian Jove this day excite
            Here, battle, or elsewhere, and were I arm'd
            With two bright spears and with a shield, and bore
            A brazen casque well-fitted to my brows,
            Me, then, thou should'st perceive mingling in fight
            Amid the foremost Chiefs, nor with the crime
            Of idle beggary should'st upbraid me more.
            But thou art much a railer, one whose heart
            Pity moves not, and seem'st a mighty man
            And valiant to thyself, only because
            Thou herd'st with few, and those of little worth.
            But should Ulysses come, at his own isle
            Again arrived, wide as these portals are,
            To thee, at once, too narrow they should seem
            To shoot thee forth with speed enough abroad.
                He ceased--then tenfold indignation fired
            Eurymachus; he furrow'd deep his brow
            With frowns, and in wing'd accents thus replied.
                Wretch, I shall roughly handle thee anon,
            Who thus with fluent prate presumptuous dar'st
            Disturb this num'rous company, restrain'd
            By no respect or fear. Either thou art
            With wine intoxicated, or, perchance,
            Art always fool, and therefore babblest now;
            Or thou art frantic haply with delight
            That thou hast foil'd yon vagabond obscure.
                So saying, he seized a stool; but to the knees
            Ulysses flew of the Dulichian Prince
            Amphinomus, and sat, fearing incensed
            Eurymachus; he on his better hand
            Smote full the cup-bearer; on the hall-floor
            Loud rang the fallen beaker, and himself
            Lay on his back clamouring in the dust.
            Strait through the dusky hall tumult ensued
            Among the suitors, of whom thus, a youth,
            With eyes directed to the next, exclaim'd.
                Would that this rambling stranger had elsewhere
            Perish'd, or ever he had here arrived,
            Then no such uproar had he caused as this!
            This doth the beggar; he it is for whom
            We wrangle thus, and may despair of peace
            Or pleasure more; now look for strife alone.
                Then in the midst Telemachus upstood
            Majestic, and the suitors thus bespake.
            Sirs! ye are mad, and can no longer eat
            Or drink in peace; some dæmon troubles you.
            But since ye all have feasted, to your homes
            Go now, and, at your pleasure, to your beds;
            Soonest were best, but I thrust no man hence.
                He ceased; they gnawing stood their lips, aghast
            With wonder that Telemachus in his speech
            Such boldness used. Then rose Amphinomus,
            Brave son of Nisus offspring of the King
            Aretus, and the assembly thus address'd.
                My friends! let none with contradiction thwart
            And rude reply words rational and just;
            Assault no more the stranger, nor of all
            The servants of renown'd Ulysses here
            Harm any. Come. Let the cup-bearer fill
            To all, that due libation made, to rest
            We may repair at home, leaving the Prince
            To accommodate beneath his father's roof
            The stranger, for he is the Prince's guest.
                He ended, whose advice none disapproved.
            The Hero Mulius then, Dulichian-born,
            And herald of Amphinomus, the cup
            Filling, dispensed it, as he stood, to all;
            They, pouring forth to the Immortals, quaff'd
            The luscious bev'rage, and when each had made
            Libation, and such measure as he would
            Of wine had drunk, then all to rest retired.



Extra Info:
[79] Tradition says that Echetus, for a love-affair, condemned his daughter to lose her eyes, and to grind iron barley-grains, while her lover was doomed to suffer what Antinoüs threatens to Irus. F.

[80] This seems the sort of laughter intended by the word +Achreion+.

[81] From Iäsus, once King of Peloponnesus.



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