The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
All met, and gather’d in attention close, Alcinous thus bespake them: “Dukes, and lords, Hear me digest my hearty thoughts in words. This stranger here, whose travels found my court, I know not, nor can tell if his resort From East or West comes; but his suit is this: That to his country-earth we would dismiss His hither-forcéd person, and doth bear The mind to pass it under ev’ry peer; Whom I prepare, and stir up, making known My free desire of his deductión. Nor shall there ever any other man That tries the goodness Phæacensian In me, and my court’s entertainment, stay, Mourning for passage, under least delay. Come then, a ship into the sacred seas, New-built, now launch we; and from out our prease Choose two-and-fifty youths, of all, the best To use an oar. All which see straight imprest, And in their oar-bound seats. Let others hie Home to our court, commanding instantly The solemn preparation of a feast, In which provision may for any guest Be made at my charge. Charge of these low things I give our youth. You, sceptre-bearing kings, Consort me home, and help with grace to use This guest of ours; no one man shall refuse.
Some other of you haste, and call to us The sacred singer, grave Demodocus, To whom hath God giv’n song that can excite The heart of whom he listeth with delight.” This said, he led. The sceptre-bearers lent Their free attendance; and with all speed went The herald for the sacred man-in-song. Youths two-and-fifty, chosen from the throng, Went, as was will’d, to the untam’d sea’s shore; Where come, they launch’d the ship, the mast it bore Advanc’d, sails hoiséd, ev’ry seat his oar Gave with a leather thong. The deep moist then They further reach’d. The dry streets flow’d with men, That troop’d up to the king’s capacious court, Whose porticos were chok’d with the resort, Whose walls were hung with men, young, old, thrust there In mighty concourse; for whose promis’d cheer Alcinous slew twelve sheep, eight white-tooth’d swine, Two crook-haunch’d beeves; which flay’d and dress’d, divine The show was of so many a jocund guest, All set together at so set a feast. To whose accomplish’d state the herald then The lovely singer led; who past all mean The Muse affected, gave him good, and ill, His eyes put out, but put in soul at will.
His place was giv’n him in a chair all grac’d With silver studs, and ’gainst a pillar plac’d: Where, as the centre to the state, he rests, And round about the circle of the guests. The herald on a pin above his head His soundful harp hung, to whose height he led His hand for taking of it down at will, A board set by with food, and forth did fill A bowl of wine, to drink at his desire. The rest then fell to feast, and, when the fire Of appetite was quench’d, the Muse inflam’d The sacred singer. Of men highliest fam’d He sung the glories, and a poem penn’d, That in applause did ample heav’n ascend. Whose subject was, the stern Contentión Betwixt Ulysses and great Thetis’ son, As, at a banquet sacred to the Gods, In dreadful language they express’d their odds.
When Agamemnon sat rejoic’d in soul To hear the Greek peers jar in terms so foul; For augur Phœbus in presage had told The King of men (desirous to unfold The war’s perplex’d end, and being therefore gone In heav’nly Pythia to the porch of stone,) That then the end of all griefs should begin ’Twixt Greece and Troy, when Greece (with strife to win That wish’d conclusion) in her kings should jar, And plead, if force or wit must end the war. This brave Contention did the poet sing, Expressing so the spleen of either king, That his large purple weed Ulysses held Before his face and eyes, since thence distill’d Tears uncontain’d; which he obscur’d, in fear To let th’ observing presence note a tear. But, when his sacred song the mere divine Had giv’n an end, a goblet crown’d with wine Ulysses, drying his wet eyes, did seize,[1] And sacrific’d to those Gods that would please T’ inspire the poet with a song so fit To do him honour, and renown his wit.
His tears then stay’d. But when again began, By all the kings’ desires, the moving man, Again Ulysses could not choose but yield To that soft passion, which again, withheld, He kept so cunningly from sight, that none, Except Alcinous himself alone, Discern’d him mov’d so much. But he sat next, And heard him deeply sigh; which his pretext Could not keep hid from him. Yet he conceal’d His utt’rance of it, and would have it held From all the rest, brake off the song, and this Said to those oar-affecting peers of his: “Princes, and peers! We now are satiate With sacred song that fits a feast of state, With wine and food. Now then to field, and try In all kinds our approv’d activity, That this our guest may give his friends to know, In his return, that we as little owe To fights and wrastlings, leaping, speed-of race, As these our court-rites; and commend our grace In all to all superior.” Forth he led, The peers and people troop’d up to their head.
Nor must Demodocus be left within; Whose harp the herald hung upon the pin, His hand in his took, and abroad he brought The heav’nly poet, out the same way wrought That did the princes, and what they would see With admiration, with his company They wish’d to honour. To the place of game These throng’d; and after routs of other came, Of all sort, infinite. Of youths that strove, Many and strong rose to their trial’s love. Up rose Acroneus, and Ocyalus, Elatreus, Prymneus, and Anchialus,[2] Nauteus, Eretmeus, Thoen, Proreüs, Pontëus, and the strong Amphialus Son to Tectonides Polyneüs. Up rose to these the great Euryalus, In action like the Homicide of War. Naubolides, that was for person far Past all the rest, but one he could not pass, Nor any thought improve, Laodamas. Up Anabesinëus then arose; And three sons of the Sceptre-state, and those Were Halius, the fore-prais’d Laodamas, And Clytonëus like a God in grace. These first the foot-game tried, and from the lists Took start together.
Up the dust in mists They hurl’d about, as in their speed they flew; But Clytonëus first of all the crew A stitch’s length in any fallow field Made good his pace; when, where the judges yield The prize and praise, his glorious speed arriv’d. Next, for the boist’rous wrastling game they striv’d; At which Euryalus the rest outshone. At leap Amphialus, At the hollow stone Elatreüs excell’d. At buffets, last, Laodamas, the king’s fair son, surpast. When all had striv’d in these assays their fill, Laodamas said: “Come friends, let’s prove what skill This stranger hath attain’d to in our sport. Methinks, he must be of the active sort, His calves, thighs, hands, and well-knit shoulders show That Nature disposition did bestow To fit with fact their form. Nor wants he prime. But sour affliction, made a mate with time, Makes time the more seen. Nor imagine I, A worse thing to enforce debility Than is the sea, though nature ne’er so strong Knits one together.” “Nor conceive you wrong,” Replied Euryalus, “but prove his blood With what you question.” In the midst then stood Renown’d Laodamas, and prov’d him thus: “Come, stranger-father, and assay with us Your pow’rs in these contentions. If your show Be answer’d with your worth, ’tis fit that you Should know these conflicts.
Nor doth glory stand On any worth more, in a man’s command, Than to be strenuous both of foot and hand. Come then, make proof with us, discharge your mind Of discontentments; for not far behind Comes your deduction, ship is ready now,[3] And men, and all things.” “Why,” said he, “dost thou Mock me, Laodamas, and these strifes bind My pow’rs to answer? I am more inclin’d To cares than conflict. Much sustain’d I have, And still am suff’ring. I come here to crave, In your assemblies, means to be dismist, And pray both kings and subjects to assist.” Euryalus an open brawl began, And said: “I take you, sir, for no such man As fits these honour’d strifes. A number more Strange men there are that I would choose before. To one that loves to lie aship-board much, Or is the prince of sailors; or to such As traffic far and near, and nothing mind But freight, and passage, and a foreright wind; Or to a victualler of a ship; or men That set up all their pow’rs for rampant gain; I can compare, or hold you like to be: But, for a wrastler, or of quality Fit for contentions noble, you abhor From worth of any such competitor.”
Ulysses, frowning, answer’d: “Stranger, far Thy words are from the fashions regular Of kind, or honour. Thou art in thy guise Like to a man that authors injuries.[4] I see, the Gods to all men give not all Manly addiction, wisdom, words that fall, Like dice, upon the square still. Some man takes Ill form from parents, but God often makes That fault of form up with observ’d repair Of pleasing speech, that makes him held for fair, That makes him speak securely, makes him shine In an assembly with a grace divine. Men take delight to see how ev’nly lie His words asteep in honey modesty. Another, then, hath fashion like a God, But in his language he is foul and broad. And such art thou. A person fair is giv’n, But nothing else is in thee sent from heav’n; For in thee lurks a base and earthy soul, And t’ hast compell’d me, with a speech most foul, To be thus bitter. I am not unseen In these fair strifes, as thy words overween, But in the first rank of the best I stand; At least I did, when youth and strength of hand Made me thus confident, but now am worn With woes and labours, as a human born To bear all anguish. Suffer’d much I have.
The war of men, and the inhuman wave, Have I driv’n through at all parts. But with all My waste in suff’rance, what yet may fall In my performance, at these strifes I’ll try. Thy speech hath mov’d, and made my wrath run high.” This said, with robe and all, he grasp’d a stone, A little graver than was ever thrown By these Phæacians in their wrastling rout, More firm, more massy; which, turn’d round about, He hurried from him with a hand so strong It sung, and flew, and over all the throng, That at the others’ marks stood, quite it went; Yet down fell all beneath it, fearing spent The force that drave it flying from his hand, As it a dart were, or a walking wand; And far past all the marks of all the rest His wing stole way; when Pallas straight imprest A mark at fall of it, resembling then One of the navy-giv’n Phæacian men, And thus advanc’d Ulysses: “One, though blind, O stranger, groping, may thy stone’s fall find, For not amidst the rout of marks it fell, But far before all. Of thy worth think well, And stand in all strifes. No Phæacian here This bound can either better or come near.”
Ulysses joy’d to hear that one man yet Us’d him benignly, and would truth abet In those contentions; and then thus smooth He took his speech down: “Reach me that now, youth, You shall, and straight I think, have one such more, And one beyond it too. And now, whose core Stands sound and great within him, since ye have Thus put my spleen up, come again and brave The guest ye tempted, with such gross disgrace, At wrastling, buffets, whirlbat, speed o’ race; At all, or either, I except at none, But urge the whole state of you; only one, I will not challenge in my forced boast, And that’s Laodamas, for he’s mine host.[5] And who will fight, or wrangle, with his friend? Unwise he is, and base, that will contend With him that feeds him in a foreign place; And takes all edge off from his own sought grace. None else except I here, nor none despise, But wish to know, and prove his faculties, That dares appear now. No strife ye can name Am I unskill’d in; reckon any game Of all that are, as many as there are In use with men. For archery I dare Affirm myself not mean.
Of all a troop I’ll make the first foe with mine arrow stoop, Though with me ne’er so many fellows bend Their bows at mark’d men, and affect their end. Only was Philoctetes with his bow Still my superior, when we Greeks would show Our archery against our foes of Troy. But all, that now by bread frail life enjoy, I far hold my inferiors. Men of old, None now alive shall witness me so bold, To vaunt equality with, such men as these, Œchalián Eurytus, Hercules, Who with their bows durst with the Gods contend; And therefore caught Eurytus soon his end, Nor died at home, in age, a rev’rend man. But by the great incenséd Delphian Was shot to death, for daring competence With him in all an archer’s excellence. A spear I’ll hurl as far as any man Shall shoot a shaft. How at a race I can Bestir my feet, I only yield to fear, And doubt to meet with my superior here. So many seas so too much have misus’d My limbs for race, and therefore have diffus’d A dissolution through my lovéd knees.” This said, he still’d all talking properties. Alcinous only answer’d: “O my guest, In good part take we what you have been prest With speech to answer.
You would make appear Your virtues therefore, that will still shine where Your only look is. Yet must this man give Your worth ill language; when, he does not live In sort of mortals (whencesoe’er he springs, That judgment hath to speak becoming things) That will deprave your virtues. Note then now My speech, and what my love presents to you, That you may tell heroës, when you come To banquet with your wife and birth at home, (Mindful of our worth) what deservings Jove Hath put on our parts likewise, in remove From sire to son, as an inherent grace Kind, and perpetual. We must needs give place To other countrymen, and freely yield We are not blameless in our fights of field, Buffets, nor wrastlings; but in speed of feet, And all the equipage that fits a fleet, We boast us best; for table ever spread With neighbour feasts, for garments varied, For poesy, music, dancing, baths, and beds. And now, Phæacians, you that bear your heads And feet with best grace in enamouring dance, Enflame our guest here, that he may advance Our worth past all the world’s to his home-friends, As well for the unmatch’d grace that commends. Your skill in footing of a dance, as theirs That fly a race best.
And so, all affairs, At which we boast us best, he best may try, As sea-race, land-race, dance, and poesy. Some one with instant speed to court retire, And fetch Demodocus’s soundful lyre.” This said the God-grac’d king; and quick resort Pontonous made for that fair harp to court. Nine of the lot-choos’d public rulers rose, That all in those contentions did dispose, Commanding a most smooth ground, and a wide, And all the people in fair game aside. Then with the rich harp came Pontonous, And in the midst took place Demodocus. About him then stood forth the choice young men,[6] That on man’s first youth made fresh entry then, Had art to make their natural motion sweet, And shook a most divine dance from their feet, That twinkled star-like, mov’d as swift, and fine, And beat the air so thin, they made it shine. Ulysses wonder’d at it, but amaz’d He stood in mind to hear the dance so phras’d. For, as they danc’d, Demodocus did sing, The bright-crown’d Venus’ love with Battle’s King; As first they closely mix’d in th’ house of fire. What worlds of gifts won her to his desire, Who then the night-and-day-bed did defile Of good king Vulcan. But in little while The Sun their mixture saw, and came and told.
The bitter news did by his ears take hold Of Vulcan’s heart. Then to his forge he went, And in his shrewd mind deep stuff did invent. His mighty anvil in the stock he put, And forg’d a net that none could loose or cut, That when it had them it might hold them fast. Which having finish’d, he made utmost haste Up to the dear room where his wife he woo’d, And, madly wrath with Mars, he all bestrow’d The bed, and bed-posts, all the beam above That cross’d the chamber; and a circle strove Of his device to wrap in all the room. And ’twas as pure, as of a spider’s loom The woof before ’tis wov’n. No man nor God Could set his eye on it, a sleight so odd His art show’d in it. All his craft bespent About the bed, he feign’d as if he went To well-built Lemnos, his most lovéd town Of all towns earthly; nor left this unknown To golden-bridle-using Mars, who kept No blind watch over him, but, seeing stept His rival so aside, he hasted home With fair-wreath’d Venus’ love stung, who was come New from the court of her most mighty Sire.
Mars enter’d, wrung her hand, and the retire Her husband made to Lemnos told, and said; “Now, love, is Vulcan gone, let us to bed, He’s for the barbarous Sintians.” Well appay’d Was Venus with it; and afresh assay’d Their old encounter. Down they went; and straight About them cling’d the artificial sleight Of most wise Vulcan; and were so ensnar’d, That neither they could stir their course prepar’d In any limb about them, nor arise. And then they knew, they would no more disguise Their close conveyance, but lay, forc’d, stone-still. Back rush’d the both-foot-cook’d, but straight in skill, From his near scout-hole turn’d, nor ever went To any Lemnos, but the sure event Left Phœbus to discover, who told all. Then home hopp’d Vulcan, full of grief and gall, Stood in the portal, and cried out so high, That all the Gods heard; “Father of the sky, And ev’ry other deathless God,” said he, “Come all, and a ridiculous object see, And yet not sufferable neither. Come, And witness how, when still I step from home, Lame that I am, Jove’s daughter doth profess To do me all the shameful offices, Indignities, despites, that can be thought; And loves this all-things-making-come-to-nought, Since he is fair forsooth, foot-sound, and I Took in my brain a little, legg’d awry.
And no fault mine, but all my parent’s fault, Who should not get, if mock me, with my halt. But see how fast they sleep, while I, in moan, Am only made an idle looker on. One bed their turn serves, and it must be mine; I think yet, I have made their self-loves shine. They shall no more wrong me, and none perceive; Nor will they sleep together, I believe, With too hot haste again. Thus both shall lie In craft, and force, till the extremity Of all the dow’r I gave her sire (to gain A doggéd set-fac’d girl, that will not stain Her face with blushing, though she shame her head) He pays me back. She’s fair, but was no maid.” While this long speech was making, all were come To Vulcan’s wholly-brazen-founded home, Earth-shaking Neptune, useful Mercury, And far-shot Phœbus. No She-Deity, For shame, would show there. All the give-good Gods Stood in the portal, and past periods Gave length to laughters, all rejoic’d to see That which they said, that no impiety Finds good success at th’ end. “And now,” said one, “The slow outgoes the swift. Lame Vulcan, known To be the slowest of the Gods, outgoes Mars the most swift.
And this is that which grows To greatest justice: that adult’ry’s sport, Obtain’d by craft, by craft of other sort (And lame craft too) is plagued, which grieves the more, That sound limbs turning lame the lame restore.”[7] This speech amongst themselves they entertain’d, When Phœbus thus ask’d Hermes: “Thus enchain’d Wouldst thou be, Hermes, to be thus disclos’d? Though with thee golden Venus were repos’d?” He soon gave that an answer: “O,” said he, “Thou king of archers, would ’twere thus with me! Though thrice so much shame; nay, though infinite Were pour’d about me, and that ev’ry light, In great heav’n shining, witness’d all my harms, So golden Venus slumber’d in mine arms.” The Gods again laugh’d; even the Watery State Wrung out a laughter, but propitiate Was still for Mars, and pray’d the God of Fire He would dissolve him, off’ring the desire He made to Jove to pay himself, and said, All due debts should be by the Gods repaid. “Pay me, no words,” said he, “where deeds lend pain, Wretched the words are giv’n for wretched men. How shall I bind you in th’ Immortals’ sight, If Mars be once loos’d, nor will pay his right?”[8] “Vulcan,” said he, “if Mars should fly, nor see Thy right repaid, it should be paid by me.”
“Your word, so giv’n, I must accept,” said he. Which said, he loos’d them. Mars then rush’d from sky, And stoop’d cold Thrace. The laughing Deity For Cyprus was, and took her Paphian state, Where she a grove, ne’er cut, had consecrate, All with Arabian odours fum’d, and hath An altar there, at which the Graces bathe, And with immortal balms besmooth, her skin, Fit for the bliss Immortals solace in; Deck’d her in to-be-studiéd attire, And apt to set beholders’ hearts on fire. This sung the sacred muse, whose notes and words The dancers’ feet kept as his hands his chords. Ulysses much was pleas’d, and all the crew. This would the king have varied with a new And pleasing measure, and performéd by Two, with whom none would strive in dancery; And those his sons were, that must therefore dance Alone, and only to the harp advance, Without the words. And this sweet couple was Young Halius, and divine Laodamas; Who danc’d a ball-dance. Then the rich-wrought ball, That Polybus had made, of purple all, They took to hand.
One threw it to the sky, And then danc’d back; the other, capering high, Would surely catch it ere his foot touch’d ground, And up again advanc’d it, and so found The other cause of dance; and then did he Dance lofty tricks, till next it came to be His turn to catch, and serve the other still. When they had kept it up to either’s will, They then danc’d ground tricks, oft mix’d hand in hand, And did so gracefully their change command, That all the other youth that stood at pause, With deaf’ning shouts, gave them the great applause. Then said Ulysses: “O, past all men here Clear, not in pow’r, but in desert as clear, You said your dancers did the world surpass, And they perform it clear, and to amaze.” This won Alcinous’ heart, and equal prize He gave Ulysses, saying: “Matchless wise, Princes and rulers, I perceive our guest, And therefore let our hospitable best In fitting gifts be giv’n him: Twelve chief kings There are that order all the glorious things Of this our kingdom; and, the thirteenth, I Exist, as crown to all. Let instantly Be thirteen garments giv’n him, and of gold Precious, and fine, a talent.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.