Book XIX
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| | THE DISCOVERY OF ULYSSES TO EURYCLEA. | |
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| | Ulysses and his son remove the weapons out of the armoury. | |
| | Ulysses, in conversation with Penelope, gives a fictitious account | |
| | of his adventures; then assures her he had formerly entertained | |
| | her husband in Crete; and describes exactly his person and dress; | |
| | affirms to have heard of him in Phaeacia and Thesprotia, and that | |
| | his return is certain, and within a month. He then goes to bathe, | |
| | and is attended by Euryclea, who discovers him to be Ulysses by | |
| | the scar upon his leg, which he formerly received in hunting the | |
| | wild boar on Parnassus. The poet inserts a digression relating | |
| | that accident, with all its particulars. | |
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| | Consulting secret with the blue-eyed maid, | |
| | Still in the dome divine Ulysses stay'd: | |
| | Revenge mature for act inflamed his breast; | |
| | And thus the son the fervent sire address'd: | |
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| | "Instant convey those steely stores of war | |
| | To distant rooms, disposed with secret care: | |
| | The cause demanded by the suitor-train, | |
| | To soothe their fears, a specious reason feign: | |
| | Say, since Ulysses left his natal coast, | |
| | Obscene with smoke, their beamy lustre lost, | |
| | His arms deform the roof they wont adorn: | |
| | From the glad walls inglorious lumber torn. | |
| | Suggest, that Jove the peaceful thought inspired, | |
| | Lest they, by sight of swords to fury fired, | |
| | Dishonest wounds, or violence of soul, | |
| | Defame the bridal feast and friendly bowl." | |
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| | The prince, obedient to the sage command, | |
| | To Euryclea thus: "The female band | |
| | In their apartments keep; secure the doors; | |
| | These swarthy arms among the covert stores | |
| | Are seemlier hid; my thoughtless youth they blame, | |
| | Imbrown'd with vapour of the smouldering flame." | |
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| | "In happier hour (pleased Euryclea cries), | |
| | Tutour'd by early woes, grow early wise; | |
| | Inspect with sharpen'd sight, and frugal care, | |
| | Your patrimonial wealth, a prudent heir. | |
| | But who the lighted taper will provide | |
| | (The female train retired) your toils to guide?" | |
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| | "Without infringing hospitable right, | |
| | This guest (he cried) shall bear the guiding light: | |
| | I cheer no lazy vagrants with repast; | |
| | They share the meal that earn it ere they taste." | |
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| | He said: from female ken she straight secures | |
| | The purposed deed, and guards the bolted doors: | |
| | Auxiliar to his son, Ulysses bears | |
| | The plumy-crested helms and pointed spears, | |
| | With shields indented deep in glorious wars. | |
| | Minerva viewless on her charge attends, | |
| | And with her golden lamp his toil befriends. | |
| | Not such the sickly beams, which unsincere | |
| | Gild the gross vapour of this nether sphere! | |
| | A present deity the prince confess'd, | |
| | And wrapp'd with ecstasy the sire address'd: | |
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| | "What miracle thus dazzles with surprise! | |
| | Distinct in rows the radiant columns rise; | |
| | The walls, where'er my wondering sight I turn, | |
| | And roofs, amidst a blaze of glory burn! | |
| | Some visitant of pure ethereal race | |
| | With his bright presence deigns the dome to grace." | |
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| | "Be calm (replies the sire); to none impart, | |
| | But oft revolve the vision in thy heart: | |
| | Celestials, mantled in excess of light, | |
| | Can visit unapproach'd by mortal sight. | |
| | Seek thou repose: whilst here I sole remain, | |
| | To explore the conduct of the female train: | |
| | The pensive queen, perchance, desires to know | |
| | The series of my toils, to soothe her woe." | |
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| | With tapers flaming day his train attends, | |
| | His bright alcove the obsequious youth ascends: | |
| | Soft slumberous shades his drooping eyelids close, | |
| | Till on her eastern throne Aurora glows. | |
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| | Whilst, forming plans of death, Ulysses stay'd, | |
| | In counsel secret with the martial maid, | |
| | Attendant nymphs in beauteous order wait | |
| | The queen, descending from her bower of state. | |
| | Her cheeks the warmer blush of Venus wear, | |
| | Chasten'd with coy Diana's pensive air. | |
| | An ivory seat with silver ringlets graced, | |
| | By famed Icmalius wrought, the menials placed: | |
| | With ivory silver'd thick the footstool shone, | |
| | O'er which the panther's various hide was thrown. | |
| | The sovereign seat with graceful air she press'd; | |
| | To different tasks their toil the nymphs address'd: | |
| | The golden goblets some, and some restored | |
| | From stains of luxury the polish'd board: | |
| | These to remove the expiring embers came, | |
| | While those with unctuous fir foment the flame. | |
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| | 'Twas then Melantho with imperious mien | |
| | Renew'd the attack, incontinent of spleen: | |
| | "Avaunt (she cried), offensive to my sight! | |
| | Deem not in ambush here to lurk by night, | |
| | Into the woman-state asquint to pry; | |
| | A day-devourer, and an evening spy! | |
| | Vagrant, begone! before this blazing brand | |
| | Shall urge"—and waved it hissing in her hand. | |
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| | The insulted hero rolls his wrathful eyes | |
| | And "Why so turbulent of soul? (he cries;) | |
| | Can these lean shrivell'd limbs, unnerved with age, | |
| | These poor but honest rags, enkindle rage? | |
| | In crowds, we wear the badge of hungry fate: | |
| | And beg, degraded from superior state! | |
| | Constrain'd a rent-charge on the rich I live; | |
| | Reduced to crave the good I once could give: | |
| | A palace, wealth, and slaves, I late possess'd, | |
| | And all that makes the great be call'd the bless'd: | |
| | My gate, an emblem of my open soul, | |
| | Embraced the poor, and dealt a bounteous dole. | |
| | Scorn not the sad reverse, injurious maid! | |
| | 'Tis Jove's high will, and be his will obey'd! | |
| | Nor think thyself exempt: that rosy prime | |
| | Must share the general doom of withering time: | |
| | To some new channel soon the changeful tide | |
| | Of royal grace the offended queen may guide; | |
| | And her loved lord unplume thy towering pride. | |
| | Or, were he dead, 'tis wisdom to beware: | |
| | Sweet blooms the prince beneath Apollo's care; | |
| | Your deeds with quick impartial eye surveys, | |
| | Potent to punish what he cannot praise." | |
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| | Her keen reproach had reach'd the sovereign's ear: | |
| | "Loquacious insolent! (she cries,) forbear; | |
| | To thee the purpose of my soul I told; | |
| | Venial discourse, unblamed, with him to hold; | |
| | The storied labours of my wandering lord, | |
| | To soothe my grief he haply may record: | |
| | Yet him, my guest, thy venom'd rage hath stung; | |
| | Thy head shall pay the forfeit of thy tongue! | |
| | But thou on whom my palace cares depend, | |
| | Eurynome, regard the stranger-friend: | |
| | A seat, soft spread with furry spoils, prepare; | |
| | Due-distant for us both to speak, and hear." | |
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| | The menial fair obeys with duteous haste: | |
| | A seat adorn'd with furry spoils she placed: | |
| | Due-distant for discourse the hero sate; | |
| | When thus the sovereign from her chair of state: | |
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| | "Reveal, obsequious to my first demand, | |
| | Thy name, thy lineage, and thy natal land." | |
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| | He thus: "O queen! whose far-resounding fame | |
| | Is bounded only by the starry frame, | |
| | Consummate pattern of imperial sway, | |
| | Whose pious rule a warlike race obey! | |
| | In wavy gold thy summer vales are dress'd; | |
| | Thy autumns bind with copious fruit oppress'd: | |
| | With flocks and herds each grassy plain is stored; | |
| | And fish of every fin thy seas afford: | |
| | Their affluent joys the grateful realms confess; | |
| | And bless the power that still delights to bless, | |
| | Gracious permit this prayer, imperial dame! | |
| | Forbear to know my lineage, or my name: | |
| | Urge not this breast to heave, these eyes to weep; | |
| | In sweet oblivion let my sorrows sleep! | |
| | My woes awaked, will violate your ear, | |
| | And to this gay censorious train appear | |
| | A whiny vapour melting in a tear." | |
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| | "Their gifts the gods resumed (the queen rejoin'd), | |
| | Exterior grace, and energy of mind, | |
| | When the dear partner of my nuptial joy, | |
| | Auxiliar troops combined, to conquer Troy. | |
| | My lord's protecting hand alone would raise | |
| | My drooping verdure, and extend my praise! | |
| | Peers from the distant Samian shore resort: | |
| | Here with Dulichians join'd, besiege the court: | |
| | Zacynthus, green with ever-shady groves, | |
| | And Ithaca, presumptuous, boast their loves: | |
| | Obtruding on my choice a second lord, | |
| | They press the Hymenaean rite abhorr'd. | |
| | Misrule thus mingling with domestic cares, | |
| | I live regardless of my state affairs; | |
| | Receive no stranger-guest, no poor relieve; | |
| | But ever for my lord in secret grieve!— | |
| | This art, instinct by some celestial power, | |
| | I tried, elusive of the bridal hour: | |
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| | "'Ye peers, (I cry,) who press to gain a heart, | |
| | Where dead Ulysses claims no future part; | |
| | Rebate your loves, each rival suit suspend, | |
| | Till this funeral web my labours end: | |
| | Cease, till to good Laertes I bequeath | |
| | A pall of state, the ornament of death. | |
| | For when to fate he bows, each Grecian dame | |
| | With just reproach were licensed to defame, | |
| | Should he, long honour'd in supreme command, | |
| | Want the last duties of a daughter's hand.' | |
| | The fiction pleased; their loves I long elude; | |
| | The night still ravell'd what the day renew'd: | |
| | Three years successful in my heart conceal'd, | |
| | My ineffectual fraud the fourth reveal'd: | |
| | Befriended by my own domestic spies, | |
| | The woof unwrought the suitor-train surprise. | |
| | From nuptial rites they now no more recede, | |
| | And fear forbids to falsify the brede. | |
| | My anxious parents urge a speedy choice, | |
| | And to their suffrage gain the filial voice. | |
| | For rule mature, Telemachus deplores | |
| | His dome dishonour'd, and exhausted stores— | |
| | But, stranger! as thy days seem full of fate, | |
| | Divide discourse, in turn thy birth relate: | |
| | Thy port asserts thee of distinguish'd race; | |
| | No poor unfather'd product of disgrace." | |
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| | "Princess! (he cries,) renew'd by your command, | |
| | The dear remembrance of my native land | |
| | Of secret grief unseals the fruitful source; | |
| | Fond tears repeat their long-forgotten course! | |
| | So pays the wretch whom fate constrains to roam, | |
| | The dues of nature to his natal home!— | |
| | But inward on my soul let sorrow prey, | |
| | Your sovereign will my duty bids obey. | |
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| | "Crete awes the circling waves, a fruitful soil! | |
| | And ninety cities crown the sea-born isle: | |
| | Mix'd with her genuine sons, adopted names | |
| | In various tongues avow their various claims: | |
| | Cydonians, dreadful with the bended yew, | |
| | And bold Pelasgi boast a native's due: | |
| | The Dorians, plumed amid the files of war, | |
| | Her foodful glebe with fierce Achaians share; | |
| | Cnossus, her capital of high command; | |
| | Where sceptred Minos with impartial hand | |
| | Divided right: each ninth revolving year, | |
| | By Jove received in council to confer. | |
| | His son Deucalion bore successive sway: | |
| | His son, who gave me first to view the day! | |
| | The royal bed an elder issue bless'd, | |
| | Idomeneus whom Ilion fields attest | |
| | Of matchless deeds: untrain'd to martial toil, | |
| | I lived inglorious in my native isle. | |
| | Studious of peace, and Aethon is my name. | |
| | 'Twas then to Crete the great Ulysses came. | |
| | For elemental war, and wintry Jove, | |
| | From Malea's gusty cape his navy drove | |
| | To bright Lucina's fane; the shelfy coast | |
| | Where loud Amnisus in the deep is lost. | |
| | His vessel's moor'd (an incommodious port!) | |
| | The hero speeded to the Cnossian court: | |
| | Ardent the partner of his arms to find, | |
| | In leagues of long commutual friendship join'd. | |
| | Vain hope! ten suns had warm'd the western strand | |
| | Since my brave brother, with his Cretan band, | |
| | Had sail'd for Troy: but to the genial feast | |
| | My honour'd roof received the royal guest: | |
| | Beeves for his train the Cnossian peers assign, | |
| | A public treat, with jars of generous wine. | |
| | Twelve days while Boreas vex'd the aerial space, | |
| | My hospitable dome he deign'd to grace: | |
| | And when the north had ceased the stormy roar, | |
| | He wing'd his voyage to the Phrygian shore." | |
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| | Thus the fam'd hero, perfected in wiles, | |
| | With fair similitude of truth beguiles | |
| | The queen's attentive ear: dissolved in woe, | |
| | From her bright eyes the tears unbounded flow, | |
| | As snows collected on the mountain freeze; | |
| | When milder regions breathe a vernal breeze, | |
| | The fleecy pile obeys the whispering gales, | |
| | Ends in a stream, and murmurs through the vales: | |
| | So, melting with the pleasing tale he told, | |
| | Down her fair cheek the copious torrent roll'd: | |
| | She to her present lord laments him lost, | |
| | And views that object which she wants the most, | |
| | Withering at heart to see the weeping fair, | |
| | His eyes look stern, and cast a gloomy stare; | |
| | Of horn the stiff relentless balls appear, | |
| | Or globes of iron fix'd in either sphere; | |
| | Firm wisdom interdicts the softening tear. | |
| | A speechless interval of grief ensues, | |
| | Till thus the queen the tender theme renews. | |
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| | "Stranger! that e'er thy hospitable roof | |
| | Ulysses graced, confirm by faithful proof; | |
| | Delineate to my view my warlike lord, | |
| | His form, his habit, and his train record." | |
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| | "'Tis hard (he cries,) to bring to sudden sight | |
| | Ideas that have wing'd their distant flight; | |
| | Rare on the mind those images are traced, | |
| | Whose footsteps twenty winters have defaced: | |
| | But what I can, receive.—In ample mode, | |
| | A robe of military purple flow'd | |
| | O'er all his frame: illustrious on his breast, | |
| | The double-clasping gold the king confess'd. | |
| | In the rich woof a hound, mosaic drawn, | |
| | Bore on full stretch, and seized a dappled fawn; | |
| | Deep in the neck his fangs indent their hold; | |
| | They pant and struggle in the moving gold. | |
| | Fine as a filmy web beneath it shone | |
| | A vest, that dazzled like a cloudless sun: | |
| | The female train who round him throng'd to gaze, | |
| | In silent wonder sigh'd unwilling praise. | |
| | A sabre, when the warrior press'd to part, | |
| | I gave, enamell'd with Vulcanian art: | |
| | A mantle purple-tinged, and radiant vest, | |
| | Dimension'd equal to his size, express'd | |
| | Affection grateful to my honour'd guest. | |
| | A favourite herald in his train I knew, | |
| | His visage solemn, sad of sable hue: | |
| | Short woolly curls o'erfleeced his bending head, | |
| | O'er which a promontory shoulder spread; | |
| | Eurybates; in whose large soul alone | |
| | Ulysses view'd an image of his own." | |
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| | His speech the tempest of her grief restored; | |
| | In all he told she recognized her lord: | |
| | But when the storm was spent in plenteous showers, | |
| | A pause inspiriting her languish'd powers, | |
| | "O thou, (she cried,) whom first inclement Fate | |
| | Made welcome to my hospitable gate; | |
| | With all thy wants the name of poor shall end: | |
| | Henceforth live honour'd, my domestic friend! | |
| | The vest much envied on your native coast, | |
| | And regal robe with figured gold emboss'd, | |
| | In happier hours my artful hand employ'd, | |
| | When my loved lord this blissful bower enjoy'd: | |
| | The fall of Troy erroneous and forlorn | |
| | Doom'd to survive, and never to return!" | |
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| | Then he, with pity toucb'd: "O royal dame! | |
| | Your ever-anxious mind, and beauteous frame, | |
| | From the devouring rage of grief reclaim. | |
| | I not the fondness of your soul reprove | |
| | For such a lord! who crown'd your virgin love | |
| | With the dear blessing of a fair increase; | |
| | Himself adorn'd with more than mortal grace: | |
| | Yet while I speak the mighty woe suspend; | |
| | Truth forms my tale; to pleasing truth attend. | |
| | The royal object of your dearest care | |
| | Breathes in no distant clime the vital air: | |
| | In rich Thesprotia, and the nearer bound | |
| | Of Thessaly, his name I heard renown'd: | |
| | Without retinue, to that friendly shore | |
| | Welcomed with gifts of price, a sumless store! | |
| | His sacrilegious train, who dared to prey | |
| | On herds devoted to the god of day, | |
| | Were doom'd by Jove, and Phoebus' just decree, | |
| | To perish in the rough Trinacrian sea. | |
| | To better fate the blameless chief ordain'd, | |
| | A floating fragment of the wreck regain'd, | |
| | And rode the storm; till, by the billows toss'd, | |
| | He landed on the fair Phaeacian coast. | |
| | That race who emulate the life of gods, | |
| | Receive him joyous to their bless'd abodes; | |
| | Large gifts confer, a ready sail command, | |
| | To speed his voyage to the Grecian strand. | |
| | But your wise lord (in whose capacious soul | |
| | High schemes of power in just succession roll) | |
| | His Ithaca refused from favouring Fate, | |
| | Till copious wealth might guard his regal state. | |
| | Phedon the fact affirm'd, whose sovereign sway | |
| | Thesprotian tribes, a duteous race, obey; | |
| | And bade the gods this added truth attest | |
| | (While pure libations crown'd the genial feast), | |
| | That anchor'd in his port the vessels stand, | |
| | To waft the hero to his natal land. | |
| | I for Dulichium urge the watery way, | |
| | But first the Ulyssean wealth survey: | |
| | So rich the value of a store so vast | |
| | Demands the pomp of centuries to waste! | |
| | The darling object of your royal love | |
| | Was journey'd thence to Dodonean Jove; | |
| | By the sure precept of the sylvan shrine, | |
| | To form the conduct of his great design; | |
| | Irresolute of soul, his state to shroud | |
| | In dark disguise, or come, a king avow'd! | |
| | Thus lives your lord; nor longer doom'd to roam; | |
| | Soon will he grace this dear paternal dome. | |
| | By Jove, the source of good, supreme in power! | |
| | By the bless'd genius of this friendly bower! | |
| | I ratify my speech, before the sun | |
| | His annual longitude of heaven shall run; | |
| | When the pale empress of yon starry train | |
| | In the next month renews her faded wane, | |
| | Ulysses will assert his rightful reign." | |
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| | "What thanks! what boon! (replied the queen), are due, | |
| | When time shall prove the storied blessing true! | |
| | My lord's return should fate no more retard, | |
| | Envy shall sicken at thy vast reward. | |
| | But my prophetic fears, alas! presage | |
| | The wounds of Destiny's relentless rage. | |
| | I long must weep, nor will Ulysses come, | |
| | With royal gifts to send you honour'd home!— | |
| | Your other task, ye menial train forbear: | |
| | Now wash the stranger, and the bed prepare: | |
| | With splendid palls the downy fleece adorn: | |
| | Uprising early with the purple morn. | |
| | His sinews, shrunk with age, and stiff with toil, | |
| | In the warm bath foment with fragrant oil. | |
| | Then with Telemachus the social feast | |
| | Partaking free, my soul invited guest; | |
| | Whoe'er neglects to pay distinction due, | |
| | The breach of hospitable right may rue. | |
| | The vulgar of my sex I most exceed | |
| | In real fame, when most humane my deed; | |
| | And vainly to the praise of queen aspire, | |
| | If, stranger! I permit that mean attire | |
| | Beneath the feastful bower. A narrow space | |
| | Confines the circle of our destin'd race; | |
| | 'Tis ours with good the scanty round to grace. | |
| | Those who to cruel wrong their state abuse, | |
| | Dreaded in life the mutter'd curse pursues; | |
| | By death disrobed of all their savage powers, | |
| | Then, licensed rage her hateful prey devours. | |
| | But he whose inborn worth his acts commend, | |
| | Of gentle soul, to human race a friend; | |
| | The wretched he relieves diffuse his fame, | |
| | And distant tongues extol the patron-name." | |
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| | "Princess? (he cried) in vain your bounties flow | |
| | On me, confirm'd and obstinate in woe. | |
| | When my loved Crete received my final view, | |
| | And from my weeping eyes her cliffs withdrew; | |
| | These tatter'd weeds (my decent robes resign'd) | |
| | I chose, the livery of a woful mind! | |
| | Nor will my heart-corroding care abate | |
| | With splendid palls, and canopies of state: | |
| | Low-couch'd on earth, the gift of sleep I scorn, | |
| | And catch the glances of the waking morn. | |
| | The delicacy of your courtly train | |
| | To wash a wretched wanderer would disdain; | |
| | But if, in tract of long experience tried, | |
| | And sad similitude of woes allied, | |
| | Some wretch reluctant views aerial light, | |
| | To her mean hand assign the friendly rite." | |
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| | Pleased with his wise reply, the queen rejoin'd: | |
| | "Such gentle manners, and so sage a mind, | |
| | In all who graced this hospitable bower | |
| | I ne'er discerned, before this social hour. | |
| | Such servant as your humble choice requires, | |
| | To light received the lord of my desires, | |
| | New from the birth; and with a mother's hand | |
| | His tender bloom to manly growth sustain'd: | |
| | Of matchless prudence, and a duteous mind; | |
| | Though now to life's extremest verge declined, | |
| | Of strength superior to the toil design'd- | |
| | Rise, Euryclea! with officious care | |
| | For the poor friend the cleansing bath prepare: | |
| | This debt his correspondent fortunes claim, | |
| | Too like Ulysses, and perhaps the same! | |
| | Thus old with woes my fancy paints him now! | |
| | For age untimely marks the careful brow." | |
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| | Instant, obsequious to the mild command, | |
| | Sad Euryclea rose: with trembling hand | |
| | She veils the torrent of her tearful eyes; | |
| | And thus impasaion'd to herself replies: | |
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| | "Son of my love, and monarch of my cares, | |
| | What pangs for thee this wretched bosom bears! | |
| | Are thus by Jove who constant beg his aid | |
| | With pious deed, and pure devotion, paid? | |
| | He never dared defraud the sacred fane | |
| | Of perfect hecatombs in order slain: | |
| | There oft implored his tutelary power, | |
| | Long to protract the sad sepulchral hour; | |
| | That, form'd for empire with paternal care, | |
| | His realm might recognize an equal heir. | |
| | O destined head! The pious vows are lost; | |
| | His God forgets him on a foreign coast!— | |
| | Perhaps, like thee, poor guest! in wanton pride | |
| | The rich insult him, and the young deride! | |
| | Conscious of worth reviled, thy generous mind | |
| | The friendly rite of purity declined; | |
| | My will concurring with my queen's command, | |
| | Accept the bath from this obsequious hand. | |
| | A strong emotion shakes my anguish'd breast: | |
| | In thy whole form Ulysses seems express'd; | |
| | Of all the wretched harboured on our coast, | |
| | None imaged e'er like thee my master lost." | |
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| | Thus half-discover'd through the dark disguise, | |
| | With cool composure feign'd, the chief replies: | |
| | "You join your suffrage to the public vote; | |
| | The same you think have all beholders thought." | |
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| | He said: replenish'd from the purest springs, | |
| | The laver straight with busy care she brings: | |
| | In the deep vase, that shone like burnish'd gold, | |
| | The boiling fluid temperates the cold. | |
| | Meantime revolving in his thoughtful mind | |
| | The scar, with which his manly knee was sign'd; | |
| | His face averting from the crackling blaze, | |
| | His shoulders intercept the unfriendly rays: | |
| | Thus cautious in the obscure he hoped to fly | |
| | The curious search of Euryclea's eye. | |
| | Cautious in vain! nor ceased the dame to find | |
| | This scar with which his manly knee was sign'd. | |
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| | This on Parnassus (combating the boar) | |
| | With glancing rage the tusky savage tore. | |
| | Attended by his brave maternal race, | |
| | His grandsire sent him to the sylvan chase, | |
| | Autolycus the bold (a mighty name | |
| | For spotless faith and deeds of martial fame: | |
| | Hermes, his patron god, those gifts bestow'd, | |
| | Whose shrine with weanling lambs he wont to load). | |
| | His course to Ithaca this hero sped, | |
| | When the first product of Laertes' bed | |
| | Was now disclosed to birth: the banquet ends, | |
| | When Euryclea from the queen descends, | |
| | And to his fond embrace the babe commends: | |
| | "Receive (she cries) your royal daughter's son; | |
| | And name the blessing that your prayers have won." | |
| | Then thus the hoary chief: "My victor arms | |
| | Have awed the realms around with dire alarms: | |
| | A sure memorial of my dreaded fame | |
| | The boy shall bear; Ulysses be his name! | |
| | And when with filial love the youth shall come | |
| | To view his mother's soil, my Delphic dome | |
| | With gifts of price shall send him joyous home." | |
| | Lured with the promised boon, when youthful prime | |
| | Ended in man, his mother's natal clime | |
| | Ulysses sought; with fond affection dear | |
| | Amphitea's arms received the royal heir: | |
| | Her ancient lord an equal joy possess'd; | |
| | Instant he bade prepare the genial feast: | |
| | A steer to form the sumptuous banquet bled, | |
| | Whose stately growth five flowery summers fed: | |
| | His sons divide, and roast with artful care | |
| | The limbs; then all the tasteful viands share. | |
| | Nor ceased discourse (the banquet of the soul), | |
| | Till Phoebus wheeling to the western goal | |
| | Resign'd the skies, and night involved the pole. | |
| | Their drooping eyes the slumberous shade oppress'd, | |
| | Sated they rose, and all retired to rest. | |
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| | Soon as the morn, new-robed in purple light, | |
| | Pierced with her golden shafts the rear of night, | |
| | Ulysses, and his brave maternal race, | |
| | The young Autolyci, essay the chase. | |
| | Parnassus, thick perplex'd with horrid shades, | |
| | With deep-mouth'd hounds the hunter-troop invades; | |
| | What time the sun, from ocean's peaceful stream, | |
| | Darts o'er the lawn his horizontal beam. | |
| | The pack impatient snuff the tainted gale; | |
| | The thorny wilds the woodmen fierce assail: | |
| | And, foremost of the train, his cornel spear | |
| | Ulysses waved, to rouse the savage war. | |
| | Deep in the rough recesses of the wood, | |
| | A lofty copse, the growth of ages, stood; | |
| | Nor winter's boreal blast, nor thunderous shower, | |
| | Nor solar ray, could pierce the shady bower. | |
| | With wither'd foliage strew'd, a heapy store! | |
| | The warm pavilion of a dreadful boar. | |
| | Roused by the hounds' and hunters' mingling cries, | |
| | The savage from his leafy shelter flies; | |
| | With fiery glare his sanguine eye-balls shine, | |
| | And bristles high impale his horrid chine. | |
| | Young lthacus advanced, defies the foe, | |
| | Poising his lifted lance in act to throw; | |
| | The savage renders vain the wound decreed, | |
| | And springs impetuous with opponent speed! | |
| | His tusks oblique he aim'd, the knee to gore; | |
| | Aslope they glanced, the sinewy fibres tore, | |
| | And bared the bone; Ulysses undismay'd, | |
| | Soon with redoubled force the wound repaid; | |
| | To the right shoulder-joint the spear applied, | |
| | His further flank with streaming purple dyed: | |
| | On earth he rushed with agonizing pain; | |
| | With joy and vast surprise, the applauding train | |
| | View'd his enormous bulk extended on the plain. | |
| | With bandage firm Ulysses' knee they bound; | |
| | Then, chanting mystic lays, the closing wound | |
| | Of sacred melody confess'd the force; | |
| | The tides of life regain'd their azure course. | |
| | Then back they led the youth with loud acclaim; | |
| | Autolycus, enamoured with his fame, | |
| | Confirm'd the cure; and from the Delphic dome | |
| | With added gifts return'd him glorious home. | |
| | He safe at Ithaca with joy received, | |
| | Relates the chase, and early praise achieved. | |
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| | Deep o'er his knee inseam'd remain'd the scar; | |
| | Which noted token of the woodland war | |
| | When Euryclea found, the ablution ceased: | |
| | Down dropp'd the leg, from her slack hand released; | |
| | The mingled fluids from the base redound; | |
| | The vase reclining floats the floor around! | |
| | Smiles dew'd with tears the pleasing strife express'd | |
| | Of grief and joy, alternate in her breast. | |
| | Her fluttering words in melting murmurs died; | |
| | At length abrupt—"My son!—my king!"—she cried. | |
| | His neck with fond embrace infolding fast, | |
| | Full on the queen her raptured eye she cast | |
| | Ardent to speak the monarch safe restored: | |
| | But, studious to conceal her royal lord, | |
| | Minerva fix'd her mind on views remote, | |
| | And from the present bliss abstracts her thought. | |
| | His hand to Euryclea's mouth applied, | |
| | "Art thou foredoom'd my pest? (the hero cried:) | |
| | Thy milky founts my infant lips have drain'd; | |
| | And have the Fates thy babbling age ordain'd | |
| | To violate the life thy youth sustain'd? | |
| | An exile have I told, with weeping eyes, | |
| | Full twenty annual suns in distant skies; | |
| | At length return'd, some god inspires thy breast | |
| | To know thy king, and here I stand confess'd. | |
| | This heaven-discover'd truth to thee consign'd, | |
| | Reserve the treasure of thy inmost mind: | |
| | Else, if the gods my vengeful arm sustain, | |
| | And prostrate to my sword the suitor-train; | |
| | With their lewd mates, thy undistinguish'd age | |
| | Shall bleed a victim to vindictive rage." | |
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| | Then thus rejoin'd the dame, devoid of fear: | |
| | "What words, my son, have passed thy lips severe? | |
| | Deep in my soul the trust shall lodge secured; | |
| | With ribs of steel, and marble heart, immured. | |
| | When Heaven, auspicious to thy right avow'd, | |
| | Shall prostrate to thy sword the suitor-crowd, | |
| | The deeds I'll blazon of the menial fair; | |
| | The lewd to death devote, the virtuous spare." | |
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| | "Thy aid avails me not (the chief replied); | |
| | My own experience shall their doom decide: | |
| | A witness-judge precludes a long appeal: | |
| | Suffice it then thy monarch to conceal." | |
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| | He said: obsequious, with redoubled pace, | |
| | She to the fount conveys the exhausted vase: | |
| | The bath renew'd, she ends the pleasing toil | |
| | With plenteous unction of ambrosial oil. | |
| | Adjusting to his limbs the tatter'd vest, | |
| | His former seat received the stranger guest; | |
| | Whom thus with pensive air the queen addressed: | |
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| | "Though night, dissolving grief in grateful ease, | |
| | Your drooping eyes with soft impression seize; | |
| | Awhile, reluctant to her pleasing force, | |
| | Suspend the restful hour with sweet discourse. | |
| | The day (ne'er brighten'd with a beam of joy!) | |
| | My menials, and domestic cares employ; | |
| | And, unattended by sincere repose, | |
| | The night assists my ever-wakeful woes; | |
| | When nature's hush'd beneath her brooding shade, | |
| | My echoing griefs the starry vault invade. | |
| | As when the months are clad in flowery green, | |
| | Sad Philomel, in bowery shades unseen, | |
| | To vernal airs attunes her varied strains; | |
| | And Itylus sounds warbling o'er the plains; | |
| | Young Itylus, his parents' darling joy! | |
| | Whom chance misled the mother to destroy; | |
| | Now doom'd a wakeful bird to wail the beauteous boy. | |
| | So in nocturnal solitude forlorn, | |
| | A sad variety of woes I mourn! | |
| | My mind, reflective, in a thorny maze | |
| | Devious from care to care incessant strays. | |
| | Now, wavering doubt succeeds to long despair; | |
| | Shall I my virgin nuptial vow revere; | |
| | And, joining to my son's my menial train, | |
| | Partake his counsels, and assist his reign? | |
| | Or, since, mature in manhood, he deplores | |
| | His dome dishonour'd, and exhausted stores; | |
| | Shall I, reluctant! to his will accord; | |
| | And from the peers select the noblest lord; | |
| | So by my choice avow'd, at length decide | |
| | These wasteful love-debates, a mourning bride! | |
| | A visionary thought I'll now relate; | |
| | Illustrate, if you know, the shadow'd fate: | |
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| | "A team of twenty geese (a snow-white train!) | |
| | Fed near the limpid lake with golden grain, | |
| | Amuse my pensive hours. The bird of Jove | |
| | Fierce from his mountain-eyrie downward drove; | |
| | Each favourite fowl he pounced with deathful sway, | |
| | And back triumphant wing'd his airy way. | |
| | My pitying eyes effused a plenteous stream, | |
| | To view their death thus imaged in a dream; | |
| | With tender sympathy to soothe my soul, | |
| | A troop of matrons, fancy-form'd, condole. | |
| | But whilst with grief and rage my bosom burn'd, | |
| | Sudden the tyrant of the skies returned; | |
| | Perch'd on the battlements he thus began | |
| | (In form an eagle, but in voice a man): | |
| | 'O queen! no vulgar vision of the sky | |
| | I come, prophetic of approaching joy; | |
| | View in this plumy form thy victor-lord; | |
| | The geese (a glutton race) by thee deplored, | |
| | Portend the suitors fated to my sword.' | |
| | This said, the pleasing feather'd omen ceased. | |
| | When from the downy bands of sleep released, | |
| | Fsat by the limpid lake my swan-like train | |
| | I found, insatiate of the golden grain." | |
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| | "The vision self-explain'd (the chief replies) | |
| | Sincere reveals the sanction of the skies; | |
| | Ulysses speaks his own return decreed; | |
| | And by his sword the suitors sure to bleed." | |
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| | "Hard is the task, and rare," (the queen rejoin'd,) | |
| | Impending destinies in dreams to find; | |
| | Immured within the silent bower of sleep, | |
| | Two portals firm the various phantoms keep; | |
| | Of ivory one; whence flit, to mock the brain, | |
| | Of winged lies a light fantastic train; | |
| | The gate opposed pellucid valves adorn, | |
| | And columns fair incased with polish'd horn; | |
| | Where images of truth for passage wait, | |
| | With visions manifest of future fate. | |
| | Not to this troop, I fear, that phantom soar'd, | |
| | Which spoke Ulysses to this realm restored; | |
| | Delusive semblance!-but my remnant life | |
| | Heaven shall determine in a gameful strife; | |
| | With that famed bow Ulysses taught to bend, | |
| | For me the rival archers shall contend. | |
| | As on the listed field he used to place | |
| | Six beams, opposed to six in equal space; | |
| | Elanced afar by his unerring art, | |
| | Sure through six circlets flew the whizzing dart. | |
| | So, when the sun restores the purple day, | |
| | Their strength and skill the suitors shall assay; | |
| | To him the spousal honour is decreed, | |
| | Who through the rings directs the feather'd reed. | |
| | Torn from these walls (where long the kinder powers | |
| | With joy and pomp have wing'd my youthful hours!) | |
| | On this poor breast no dawn of bliss shall beam; | |
| | The pleasure past supplies a copious theme | |
| | For many a dreary thought, and many a doleful dream!" | |
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| | "Propose the sportive lot (the chief replies), | |
| | Nor dread to name yourself the bowyer's prize; | |
| | Ulysses will surprise the unfinish'd game, | |
| | Avow'd, and falsify the suitors' claim." | |
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| | To whom with grace serene the queen rejoin'd: | |
| | "In all thy speech what pleasing force I find! | |
| | O'er my suspended woe thy words prevail; | |
| | I part reluctant from the pleasing tale, | |
| | But Heaven, that knows what all terrestrials need, | |
| | Repose to night, and toil to day decreed; | |
| | Grateful vicissitudes! yet me withdrawn, | |
| | Wakeful to weep and watch the tardy dawn | |
| | Establish'd use enjoins; to rest and joy | |
| | Estranged, since dear Ulysses sail'd to Troy! | |
| | Meantime instructed is the menial tribe | |
| | Your couch to fashion as yourself prescribe." | |
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| | Thus affable, her bower the queen ascends; | |
| | The sovereign step a beauteous train attends; | |
| | There imaged to her soul Ulysses rose; | |
| | Down her pale cheek new-streaming sorrow flows; | |
| | Till soft oblivious shade Minerva spread, | |
| | And o'er her eyes ambrosial slumber shed. | |
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