Public Domain Poetry And Stories - Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book XXI by William Cowper
Public domain poetry and public domain stories from the literary greats of yesteryear.
Main Menu

Home

Latest Poetry

Latest Authors

Authors Surname

Authors First Name

Poetry Title

Poetry First Lines

Latest Stories

Stories Title

Top Authors

Top Poetry


Top Stories Etc.

Search

Contact Us

Useless Information!!

Store



Top Sites, Click here to vote for our site

Sponsored Links

Read, Rate, Comment on or Submit your poetry

Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book XXI

    By William Cowper



    ARGUMENT

    Penelope proposes to the suitors a contest with the bow, herself the prize. They prove unable to bend the bow; when Ulysses having with some difficulty possessed himself of it, manages it with the utmost ease, and dispatches his arrow through twelve rings erected for the trial.


            Minerva, now, Goddess cærulean-eyed,
            Prompted Icarius' daughter, the discrete
            Penelope, with bow and rings to prove
            Her suitors in Ulysses' courts, a game
            Terrible in conclusion to them all.
            First, taking in her hand the brazen key
            Well-forged, and fitted with an iv'ry grasp,
            Attended by the women of her train
            She sought her inmost chamber, the recess
            In which she kept the treasures of her Lord,
            His brass, his gold, and steel elaborate.
            Here lay his stubborn bow, and quiver fill'd
            With num'rous shafts, a fatal store. That bow
            He had received and quiver from the hand
            Of godlike Iphitus Eurytides,
            Whom, in Messenia,[96] in the house he met
            Of brave Orsilochus. Ulysses came
            Demanding payment of arrearage due
            From all that land; for a Messenian fleet
            Had borne from Ithaca three hundred sheep,
            With all their shepherds; for which cause, ere yet
            Adult, he voyaged to that distant shore,
            Deputed by his sire, and by the Chiefs
            Of Ithaca, to make the just demand.
            But Iphitus had thither come to seek
            Twelve mares and twelve mule colts which he had lost,
            A search that cost him soon a bloody death.
            For, coming to the house of Hercules
            The valiant task-performing son of Jove,
            He perish'd there, slain by his cruel host
            Who, heedless of heav'n's wrath, and of the rights
            Of his own board, first fed, then slaughter'd him;
            For in his house the mares and colts were hidden.
            He, therefore, occupied in that concern,
            Meeting Ulysses there, gave him the bow
            Which, erst, huge Eurytus had borne, and which
            Himself had from his dying sire received.
            Ulysses, in return, on him bestowed
            A spear and sword, pledges of future love
            And hospitality; but never more
            They met each other at the friendly board,
            For, ere that hour arrived, the son of Jove
            Slew his own guest, the godlike Iphitus.
            Thus came the bow into Ulysses' hands,
            Which, never in his gallant barks he bore
            To battle with him, (though he used it oft
            In times of peace) but left it safely stored
            At home, a dear memorial of his friend.
                Soon as, divinest of her sex, arrived
            At that same chamber, with her foot she press'd
            The oaken threshold bright, on which the hand
            Of no mean architect had stretch'd the line,
            Who had erected also on each side
            The posts on which the splendid portals hung,
            She loos'd the ring and brace, then introduced
            The key, and aiming at them from without,[97]
            Struck back the bolts. The portals, at that stroke,
            Sent forth a tone deep as the pastur'd bull's,
            And flew wide open. She, ascending, next,
            The elevated floor on which the chests
            That held her own fragrant apparel stood,
            With lifted hand aloft took down the bow
            In its embroider'd bow-case safe enclosed.
            Then, sitting there, she lay'd it on her knees,
            Weeping aloud, and drew it from the case.
            Thus weeping over it long time she sat,
            Till satiate, at the last, with grief and tears,
            Descending by the palace steps she sought
            Again the haughty suitors, with the bow
            Elastic, and the quiver in her hand
            Replete with pointed shafts, a deadly store.
            Her maidens, as she went, bore after her
            A coffer fill'd with prizes by her Lord,
            Much brass and steel; and when at length she came,
            Loveliest of women, where the suitors sat,
            Between the pillars of the stately dome
            Pausing, before her beauteous face she held
            Her lucid veil, and by two matrons chaste
            Supported, the assembly thus address'd.
                Ye noble suitors hear, who rudely haunt
            This palace of a Chief long absent hence,
            Whose substance ye have now long time consumed,
            Nor palliative have yet contrived, or could,
            Save your ambition to make me a bride--
            Attend this game to which I call you forth.
            Now suitors! prove yourselves with this huge bow
            Of wide-renown'd Ulysses; he who draws
            Easiest the bow, and who his arrow sends
            Through twice six rings, he takes me to his home,
            And I must leave this mansion of my youth
            Plenteous, magnificent, which, doubtless, oft
            I shall remember even in my dreams.
                So saying, she bade Eumæus lay the bow
            Before them, and the twice six rings of steel.
            He wept, received them, and obey'd; nor wept
            The herdsman less, seeing the bow which erst
            His Lord had occupied; when at their tears
            Indignant, thus, Antinoüs began.
                Ye rural drones, whose purblind eyes see not
            Beyond the present hour, egregious fools!
            Why weeping trouble ye the Queen, too much
            Before afflicted for her husband lost?
            Either partake the banquet silently,
            Or else go weep abroad, leaving the bow,
            That stubborn test, to us; for none, I judge,
            None here shall bend this polish'd bow with ease,
            Since in this whole assembly I discern
            None like Ulysses, whom myself have seen
            And recollect, though I was then a boy.
                He said, but in his heart, meantime, the hope
            Cherish'd, that he should bend, himself, the bow,
            And pass the rings; yet was he destin'd first
            Of all that company to taste the steel
            Of brave Ulysses' shaft, whom in that house
            He had so oft dishonour'd, and had urged
            So oft all others to the like offence.
            Amidst them, then, the sacred might arose
            Of young Telemachus, who thus began.
                Saturnian Jove questionless hath deprived
            Me of all reason. My own mother, fam'd
            For wisdom as she is, makes known to all
            Her purpose to abandon this abode
            And follow a new mate, while, heedless, I
            Trifle and laugh as I were still a child.
            But come, ye suitors! since the prize is such,
            A woman like to whom none can be found
            This day in all Achaia; on the shores
            Of sacred Pylus; in the cities proud
            Of Argos or Mycenæ; or even here
            In Ithaca; or yet within the walls
            Of black Epirus; and since this yourselves
            Know also, wherefore should I speak her praise?
            Come then, delay not, waste not time in vain
            Excuses, turn not from the proof, but bend
            The bow, that thus the issue may be known.
            I also will, myself, that task essay;
            And should I bend the bow, and pass the rings,
            Then shall not my illustrious mother leave
            Her son forlorn, forsaking this abode
            To follow a new spouse, while I remain
            Disconsolate, although of age to bear,
            Successful as my sire, the prize away.
                So saying, he started from his seat, cast off
            His purple cloak, and lay'd his sword aside,
            Then fix'd, himself, the rings, furrowing the earth
            By line, and op'ning one long trench for all,
            And stamping close the glebe. Amazement seized
            All present, seeing with how prompt a skill
            He executed, though untaught, his task.
            Then, hasting to the portal, there he stood.
            Thrice, struggling, he essay'd to bend the bow,
            And thrice desisted, hoping still to draw
            The bow-string home, and shoot through all the rings.[98]
            And now the fourth time striving with full force
            He had prevail'd to string it, but his sire
            Forbad his eager efforts by a sign.
            Then thus the royal youth to all around--
                Gods! either I shall prove of little force
            Hereafter, and for manly feats unapt,
            Or I am yet too young, and have not strength
            To quell the aggressor's contumely. But come--
            (For ye have strength surpassing mine) try ye
            The bow, and bring this contest to an end.
                He ceas'd, and set the bow down on the floor,
            Reclining it against the shaven pannels smooth
            That lined the wall; the arrow next he placed,
            Leaning against the bow's bright-polish'd horn,
            And to the seat, whence he had ris'n, return'd.
            Then thus Eupithes' son, Antinoüs spake.
                My friends! come forth successive from the right,[99]
            Where he who ministers the cup begins.
                So spake Antinoüs, and his counsel pleased.
            Then, first, Leiodes, Oenop's son, arose.
            He was their soothsayer, and ever sat
            Beside the beaker, inmost of them all.
            To him alone, of all, licentious deeds
            Were odious, and, with indignation fired,
            He witness'd the excesses of the rest.
            He then took foremost up the shaft and bow,
            And, station'd at the portal, strove to bend
            But bent it not, fatiguing, first, his hands
            Delicate and uncustom'd to the toil.
            He ceased, and the assembly thus bespake.
                My friends, I speed not; let another try;
            For many Princes shall this bow of life
            Bereave, since death more eligible seems,
            Far more, than loss of her, for whom we meet
            Continual here, expecting still the prize.
            Some suitor, haply, at this moment, hopes
            That he shall wed whom long he hath desired,
            Ulysses' wife, Penelope; let him
            Essay the bow, and, trial made, address
            His spousal offers to some other fair
            Among the long-stoled Princesses of Greece,
            This Princess leaving his, whose proffer'd gifts
            Shall please her most, and whom the Fates ordain.
                He said, and set the bow down on the floor,
            Reclining it against the shaven pannels smooth
            That lined the wall; the arrow, next, he placed,
            Leaning against the bow's bright-polish'd horn,
            And to the seat whence he had ris'n return'd.
            Then him Antinoüs, angry, thus reproved.
                What word, Leiodes, grating to our ears
            Hath scap'd thy lips? I hear it with disdain.
            Shall this bow fatal prove to many a Prince,
            Because thou hast, thyself, too feeble proved
            To bend it? no. Thou wast not born to bend
            The unpliant bow, or to direct the shaft,
            But here are nobler who shall soon prevail.
                He said, and to Melanthius gave command,
            The goat-herd. Hence, Melanthius, kindle fire;
            Beside it place, with fleeces spread, a form
            Of length commodious; from within procure
            A large round cake of suet next, with which
            When we have chafed and suppled the tough bow
            Before the fire, we will again essay
            To bend it, and decide the doubtful strife.
                He ended, and Melanthius, kindling fire
            Beside it placed, with fleeces spread, a form
            Of length commodious; next, he brought a cake
            Ample and round of suet from within,
            With which they chafed the bow, then tried again
            To bend, but bent it not; superior strength
            To theirs that task required. Yet two, the rest
            In force surpassing, made no trial yet,
            Antinoüs, and Eurymachus the brave.
                Then went the herdsman and the swine-herd forth
            Together; after whom, the glorious Chief
            Himself the house left also, and when all
            Without the court had met, with gentle speech
            Ulysses, then, the faithful pair address'd.
                Herdsman! and thou, Eumæus! shall I keep
            A certain secret close, or shall I speak
            Outright? my spirit prompts me, and I will.
            What welcome should Ulysses at your hands
            Receive, arriving suddenly at home,
            Some God his guide; would ye the suitors aid,
            Or would ye aid Ulysses? answer true.
                Then thus the chief intendant of his herds.
            Would Jove but grant me my desire, to see
            Once more the Hero, and would some kind Pow'r,
            Restore him, I would shew thee soon an arm
            Strenuous to serve him, and a dauntless heart.
                Eumæus, also, fervently implored
            The Gods in pray'r, that they would render back
            Ulysses to his home. He, then, convinced
            Of their unfeigning honesty, began.
                Behold him! I am he myself, arrived
            After long suff'rings in the twentieth year!
            I know how welcome to yourselves alone
            Of all my train I come, for I have heard
            None others praying for my safe return.
            I therefore tell you truth; should heav'n subdue
            The suitors under me, ye shall receive
            Each at my hands a bride, with lands and house
            Near to my own, and ye shall be thenceforth
            Dear friends and brothers of the Prince my son.
            Lo! also this indisputable proof
            That ye may know and trust me. View it here.
            It is the scar which in Parnassus erst
            (Where with the sons I hunted of renown'd
            Autolycus) I from a boar received.
                So saying, he stripp'd his tatters, and unveil'd
            The whole broad scar; then, soon as they had seen
            And surely recognized the mark, each cast
            His arms around Ulysses, wept, embraced
            And press'd him to his bosom, kissing oft
            His brows and shoulders, who as oft their hands
            And foreheads kiss'd, nor had the setting sun
            Beheld them satisfied, but that himself
            Ulysses thus admonished them, and said.
                Cease now from tears, lest any, coming forth,
            Mark and report them to our foes within.
            Now, to the hall again, but one by one,
            Not all at once, I foremost, then yourselves,
            And this shall be the sign. Full well I know
            That, all unanimous, they will oppose
            Deliv'ry of the bow and shafts to me;
            But thou, (proceeding with it to my seat)
            Eumæus, noble friend! shalt give the bow
            Into my grasp; then bid the women close
            The massy doors, and should they hear a groan
            Or other noise made by the Princes shut
            Within the hall, let none set step abroad,
            But all work silent. Be the palace-door
            Thy charge, my good Philoetius! key it fast
            Without a moment's pause, and fix the brace.[100]
                He ended, and, returning to the hall,
            Resumed his seat; nor stay'd his servants long
            Without, but follow'd their illustrious Lord.
            Eurymachus was busily employ'd
            Turning the bow, and chafing it before
            The sprightly blaze, but, after all, could find
            No pow'r to bend it. Disappointment wrung
            A groan from his proud heart, and thus he said.
                Alas! not only for myself I grieve,
            But grieve for all. Nor, though I mourn the loss
            Of such a bride, mourn I that loss alone,
            (For lovely Greecians may be found no few
            In Ithaca, and in the neighbour isles)
            But should we so inferior prove at last
            To brave Ulysses, that no force of ours
            Can bend his bow, we are for ever shamed.
                To whom Antinoüs, thus, Eupithes' son.
            Not so; (as even thou art well-assured
            Thyself, Eurymachus!) but Phoebus claims
            This day his own. Who then, on such a day,
            Would strive to bend it? Let it rather rest.
            And should we leave the rings where now they stand,
            I trust that none ent'ring Ulysses' house
            Will dare displace them. Cup-bearer, attend!
            Serve all with wine, that, first, libation made,
            We may religiously lay down the bow.
            Command ye too Melanthius, that he drive
            Hither the fairest goats of all his flocks
            At dawn of day, that burning first, the thighs
            To the ethereal archer, we may make
            New trial, and decide, at length, the strife.
                So spake Antinoüs, and his counsel pleased.
            The heralds, then, pour'd water on their hands,
            While youths crown'd high the goblets which they bore
            From right to left, distributing to all.
            When each had made libation, and had drunk
            Till well sufficed, then, artful to effect
            His shrewd designs, Ulysses thus began.
                Hear, O ye suitors of the illustrious Queen,
            My bosom's dictates. But I shall entreat
            Chiefly Eurymachus and the godlike youth
            Antinoüs, whose advice is wisely giv'n.
                Tamper no longer with the bow, but leave
            The matter with the Gods, who shall decide
            The strife to-morrow, fav'ring whom they will.
            Meantime, grant me the polish'd bow, that I
            May trial make among you of my force,
            If I retain it still in like degree
            As erst, or whether wand'ring and defect
            Of nourishment have worn it all away.
                He said, whom they with indignation heard
            Extreme, alarm'd lest he should bend the bow,
            And sternly thus Antinoüs replied.
                Desperate vagabond! ah wretch deprived
            Of reason utterly! art not content?
            Esteem'st it not distinction proud enough
            To feast with us the nobles of the land?
            None robs thee of thy share, thou witnessest
            Our whole discourse, which, save thyself alone,
            No needy vagrant is allow'd to hear.
            Thou art befool'd by wine, as many have been,
            Wide-throated drinkers, unrestrain'd by rule.
            Wine in the mansion of the mighty Chief
            Pirithoüs, made the valiant Centaur mad
            Eurytion, at the Lapithæan feast.[101]
            He drank to drunkenness, and being drunk,
            Committed great enormities beneath
            Pirithoüs' roof, and such as fill'd with rage
            The Hero-guests; who therefore by his feet
            Dragg'd him right through the vestibule, amerced
            Of nose and ears, and he departed thence
            Provoked to frenzy by that foul disgrace,
            Whence war between the human kind arose
            And the bold Centaurs--but he first incurred
            By his ebriety that mulct severe.
            Great evil, also, if thou bend the bow,
            To thee I prophesy; for thou shalt find
            Advocate or protector none in all
            This people, but we will dispatch thee hence
            Incontinent on board a sable bark
            To Echetus, the scourge of human kind,
            From whom is no escape. Drink then in peace,
            And contest shun with younger men than thou.
                Him answer'd, then, Penelope discrete.
            Antinoüs! neither seemly were the deed
            Nor just, to maim or harm whatever guest
            Whom here arrived Telemachus receives.
            Canst thou expect, that should he even prove
            Stronger than ye, and bend the massy bow,
            He will conduct me hence to his own home,
            And make me his own bride? No such design
            His heart conceives, or hope; nor let a dread
            So vain the mind of any overcloud
            Who banquets here, since it dishonours me.
                So she; to whom Eurymachus reply'd,
            Offspring of Polybus. O matchless Queen!
            Icarius' prudent daughter! none suspects
            That thou wilt wed with him; a mate so mean
            Should ill become thee; but we fear the tongues
            Of either sex, lest some Achaian say
            Hereafter, (one inferior far to us)
            Ah! how unworthy are they to compare
            With him whose wife they seek! to bend his bow
            Pass'd all their pow'r, yet this poor vagabond,
            Arriving from what country none can tell,
            Bent it with ease, and shot through all the rings.
            So will they speak, and so shall we be shamed.
                Then answer, thus, Penelope return'd.
            No fair report, Eurymachus, attends
            Their names or can, who, riotous as ye,
            The house dishonour, and consume the wealth
            Of such a Chief. Why shame ye thus yourselves?
            The guest is of athletic frame, well form'd,
            And large of limb; he boasts him also sprung
            From noble ancestry. Come then--consent--
            Give him the bow, that we may see the proof;
            For thus I say, and thus will I perform;
            Sure as he bends it, and Apollo gives
            To him that glory, tunic fair and cloak
            Shall be his meed from me, a javelin keen
            To guard him against men and dogs, a sword
            Of double edge, and sandals for his feet,
            And I will send him whither most he would.
                Her answer'd then prudent Telemachus.
            Mother--the bow is mine; and, save myself,
            No Greek hath right to give it, or refuse.
            None who in rock-bound Ithaca possess
            Dominion, none in the steed-pastured isles
            Of Elis, if I chose to make the bow
            His own for ever, should that choice controul.
            But thou into the house repairing, ply
            Spindle and loom, thy province, and enjoin
            Diligence to thy maidens; for the bow
            Is man's concern alone, and shall be mine
            Especially, since I am master here.
                She heard astonish'd, and the prudent speech
            Reposing of her son deep in her heart,
            Withdrew; then mounting with her female train
            To her superior chamber, there she wept
            Her lost Ulysses, till Minerva bathed
            With balmy dews of sleep her weary lids.
            And now the noble swine-herd bore the bow
            Toward Ulysses, but with one voice all
            The suitors, clamorous, reproved the deed,
            Of whom a youth, thus, insolent exclaim'd.
                Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither bear'st the bow,
            Delirious wretch? the hounds that thou hast train'd
            Shall eat thee at thy solitary home
            Ere long, let but Apollo prove, at last,
            Propitious to us, and the Pow'rs of heav'n.
                So they, whom hearing he replaced the bow
            Where erst it stood, terrified at the sound
            Of such loud menaces; on the other side
            Telemachus as loud assail'd his ear.
                Friend! forward with the bow; or soon repent
            That thou obey'dst the many. I will else
            With huge stones drive thee, younger as I am,
            Back to the field. My strength surpasses thine.
            I would to heav'n that I in force excell'd
            As far, and prowess, every suitor here!
            So would I soon give rude dismission hence
            To some, who live but to imagine harm.
                He ceased, whose words the suitors laughing heard.
            And, for their sake, in part their wrath resign'd
            Against Telemachus; then through the hall
            Eumæus bore, and to Ulysses' hand
            Consign'd the bow; next, summoning abroad
            The ancient nurse, he gave her thus in charge.
                It is the pleasure of Telemachus,
            Sage Euryclea! that thou key secure
            The doors; and should you hear, perchance, a groan
            Or other noise made by the Princes shut
            Within the hall, let none look, curious, forth,
            But each in quietness pursue her work.
                So he; nor flew his words useless away,
            But she, incontinent, shut fast the doors.
            Then, noiseless, sprang Philoetius forth, who closed
            The portals also of the palace-court.
            A ship-rope of Ægyptian reed, it chanced,
            Lay in the vestibule; with that he braced
            The doors securely, and re-entring fill'd
            Again his seat, but watchful, eyed his Lord.
            He, now, assaying with his hand the bow,
            Made curious trial of it ev'ry way,
            And turn'd it on all sides, lest haply worms
            Had in its master's absence drill'd the horn.
            Then thus a suitor to his next remark'd.
                He hath an eye, methinks, exactly skill'd
            In bows, and steals them; or perhaps, at home,
            Hath such himself, or feels a strong desire
            To make them; so inquisitive the rogue
            Adept in mischief, shifts it to and fro!
                To whom another, insolent, replied.
            I wish him like prosperity in all
            His efforts, as attends his effort made
            On this same bow, which he shall never bend.
                So they; but when the wary Hero wise
            Had made his hand familiar with the bow
            Poising it and examining--at once--
            As when in harp and song adept, a bard
            Unlab'ring strains the chord to a new lyre,
            The twisted entrails of a sheep below
            With fingers nice inserting, and above,
            With such facility Ulysses bent
            His own huge bow, and with his right hand play'd
            The nerve, which in its quick vibration sang
            Clear as the swallow's voice. Keen anguish seized
            The suitors, wan grew ev'ry cheek, and Jove
            Gave him his rolling thunder for a sign.
            That omen, granted to him by the son
            Of wily Saturn, with delight he heard.
            He took a shaft that at the table-side
            Lay ready drawn; but in his quiver's womb
            The rest yet slept, by those Achaians proud
            To be, ere long, experienced. True he lodg'd
            The arrow on the centre of the bow,
            And, occupying still his seat, drew home
            Nerve and notch'd arrow-head; with stedfast sight
            He aimed and sent it; right through all the rings
            From first to last the steel-charged weapon flew
            Issuing beyond, and to his son he spake.
                Thou need'st not blush, young Prince, to have received
            A guest like me; neither my arrow swerved,
            Nor labour'd I long time to draw the bow;
            My strength is unimpair'd, not such as these
            In scorn affirm it. But the waning day
            Calls us to supper, after which succeeds[102]
            Jocund variety, the song, the harp,
            With all that heightens and adorns the feast.
                He said, and with his brows gave him the sign.
            At once the son of the illustrious Chief
            Slung his keen faulchion, grasp'd his spear, and stood
            Arm'd bright for battle at his father's side.



Extra Info:
[96] A province of Laconia.

[97] The reader will of course observe, that the whole of this process implies a sort of mechanism very different from that with which we are acquainted.--The translation, I believe, is exact.

[98] This first attempt of Telemachus and the suitors was not an attempt to shoot, but to lodge the bow-string on the opposite horn, the bow having been released at one end, and slackened while it was laid by.

[99] Antinoüs prescribes to them this manner of rising to the trial for the good omen's sake, the left-hand being held unpropitious.

[100] The +desmos+ seems to have been a strap designed to close the only aperture by which the bolt could be displaced, and the door opened.

[101] When Pirithoüs, one of the Lapithæ, married Hippodamia, daughter of Adrastus, he invited the Centaurs to the wedding. The Centaurs, intoxicated with wine, attempted to ravish the wives of the Lapithæ, who in resentment of that insult, slew them.

[102] This is an instance of the +Sardanion mala toion+ mentioned in Book XX.; such as, perhaps, could not be easily paralleled. I question if there be a passage, either in ancient or modern tragedy, so truly terrible as this seeming levity of Ulysses, in the moment when he was going to begin the slaughter.



Printable Page

Add Your Thoughts on this poem.



This page viewed 417 times.
Sponsored Links


Your Shops - Affordable Ecommerce stores and cheaper goods for customers - No listing fees!



Our Sites