Of my instructors, feeling, too, a mind
Within me conscious of augmented pow'rs,
I will attempt your ruin, be assur'd,
Whether at Pylus, or continuing here.
I go, indeed (nor shall my voyage prove
Of which I speak, a fruitless one), I go
An humble passenger, who neither bark
Nor rowers have to boast my own, denied
That honour (so ye judg'd it best) by you.
He said, and from Antinoüs' hand his own
Drew softly. Then their delicate repast
The busy suitors on all sides prepar'd,
Still taunting as they toil'd, and with sharp speech
Sarcastic wantoning, of whom a youth
Arrogant as his fellows, thus began:
Our doom is fix'd, and we must all be slain.
Either Telemachus will aids procure
From sandy Pylus, or will bring them arm'd
From Sparta; such is his tremendous drift.
Even to fruitful Ephyre, perchance,
He will proceed, seeking some baneful herb,
Which, cast into our cup, shall drug us all*.
* It is as plain in the original as in the translation, that the suitors speak ironically, though the scholiast, much to the astonishment of Clarke, understands them as expressing serious apprehensions, that Telemachus has framed some such project. It is indeed hardly possible, not to remark with how much labour the commentators sometimes misinterpret, especially when the true sense is obvious.
Another, in his turn, thus scoff'd aloud:
Who knows but that himself, while far remote
From all his friends he roams the dreary Deep,
May perish like Ulysses? Whence to us
Should double toil ensue, on whom the charge
To parcel out his wealth would then devolve,
And to endow his mother with the house
For his abode, whom she should chance to wed.
So sported they; but he, ascending, sought
His father's chamber, where his brass, and gold,
And raiment in capacious chests he kept,
And oils of fragrant scent, a copious store.
There many a cask with season'd nectar fill'd,
The grape's pure juice divine, beside the wall
Stood waiting, orderly arrang'd, the hour
(Should e'er such hour arrive) when, after woes
Num'rous, Ulysses should regain his home.
Secure that chamber was with folding doors
Of massy planks compact, and, night and day,
Within it ancient Euryclea dwelt,
Guardian discreet of all the treasures there,
Whom, thither call'd, Telemachus address'd:
Nurse! draw me forth sweet wine into my jars
Delicious next to that which thou reserv'st
For our poor wand'rer; if, escaping death
At last, divine Ulysses e'er return.
Fill twelve, and stop them close; pour also meal
Well-mill'd (full twenty measures) into skins
Close-seam'd, and mention what thou dost to none*.
Place them together; for at even-tide,
Soon as the queen, retiring to her couch,
Shall seek repose, I will bestow them all
On board a bark; for to the Pylian shore
And Spartan, there to gather, if I may,
Some hopes that still Ulysses lives, I go.
He ended, and in accents shrill, that spoke
Her tender fears, his gentle nurse exclaim'd:
My child! ah, wherefore hath a thought so rash
Possess'd thee? whither, only and belov'd,
Seek'st thou to ramble, travelling, alas!
To distant climes? Ulysses is no more;
Dead lies the hero in some land unknown,
And thou no sooner shalt depart, than these
Will plot to slay thee, and divide thy wealth.
No, stay with us who love thee. Need is none,
That thou shouldst on the barren Deep distress
Encounter, roaming without hope or endt.
* The scholiast tells us, that the ancients kept their flour in skins, and not in sacks, which were a subsequent invention, and applied the word measure both to wet and dry.-B. & C.
+ She speaks of the death of Ulysses as a certainty, the more effectually to deter Telemachus from his voyage, though it is plain, that she did not in reality consider it as such, since she kept for him with so much care the very best of all the wines intrusted to her.-C.
Whom, prudent, thus answer'd Telemachus: Take courage, nurse! for not without consent
Of the Immortals I have thus resolv'd.
But swear, that till eleven days be past,
Or twelve, or till, inquiry made, she learn
Herself my going, thou wilt nought impart
Of this my purpose to my mother's ear,
Lest all her beauties fade, by grief impair'd.
He ended, and the ancient matron swore*
Solemnly by the Gods; which done, she fill'd
With wine the vessels, and the skins with meal,
And he returning join'd the throng below.
Then Pallas, Goddess azure-ey'd, her thoughts
Elsewhere directing, all the city rang'd
In semblance of Telemachus, each man
Exhorting, at the dusk of eve, to seek
The gallant ship, and from Noëmon, son
Renown'd of Phronius, ask'd, herself, a bark,
Which, soon as ask'd, he promis'd to supply†.
*The word swear serves us for oaths of both kinds, both negative and affirmative; but the Greeks had words to distinguish them; ἐπομνύναι signifying to swear, that a thing shall be done, ἀπομνύναι, that it shall not.-C. The latter is the word used here.
+ Both Eustathius and the scholiast understand here a secret meaning, and consider the exhortations given by Minerva in the form of Telemachus as an allegorical way of saying, that the Ithacans, being much impressed and affected with the remembrance of what
Now set the sun, and twilight dimm'd the ways, When, drawing down his bark into the Deep,
gave her all her furniture, oars, arms,
And tackle, such as well-built galleys bear,
Then moor'd her in the bottom of the bay.
Mean-time his mariners in haste repair'd
Down to the shore, for Pallas urg'd them on.
And now, on other purposes intent,
The goddess sought the palace, where with dews
Of slumber drenching ev'ry suitor's eye,
She fool'd the drunkard multitude, and dash'd
The goblets from their idle hands away.
They through the city reel'd, all glad to leave
The dull carousal, when the slumb'rous weight
Oppressive on their eyelids once had fall'n.
Next Pallas azure-ey'd, in Mentor's form,
And with the voice of Mentor, summoning
Telemachus abroad, him thus bespake:
Telemachus! already at their oars
Sit all thy fellow-voyagers, and wait
Thy coming; linger not, but haste away.
had passed in council, seeming still to have the figure of Telemachus before their eyes, and convinced that he had required only what was reasonable and just, though they accounted it too dangerous an enterprise to engage publicly on his side, had yet no unwillingness to accommodate him with a ship, or even to furnish him from among themselves with mariners.-B. & C.
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