The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
When I my sword drew, and earth’s womb did gore Till I a pit digg’d of a cubit round, Which with the liquid sacrifice we crown’d, First honey mix’d with wine, then sweet wine neat, Then water pour’d in, last the flour of wheat. Much I importun’d then the weak-neck’d dead, And vow’d, when I the barren soil should tread Of clifty Ithaca, amidst my hall To kill a heifer, my clear best of all, And give in off’ring, on a pile compos’d Of all the choice goods my whole house enclos’d. And to Tiresias himself, alone, A sheep coal-black, and the selectest one Of all my flocks. When to the Pow’rs beneath, The sacred nation that survive with death, My pray’rs and vows had done devotions fit, I took the off’rings, and upon the pit Bereft their lives. Out gush’d the sable blood, And round about me fled out of the flood The souls of the deceas’d. There cluster’d then Youths, and their wives, much-suff’ring aged men, Soft tender virgins that but new came there By timeless death, and green their sorrows were.
There men-at-arms, with armours all embrew’d, Wounded with lances, and with faulchions hew’d, In numbers, up and down the ditch, did stalk, And threw unmeasur’d cries about their walk, So horrid that a bloodless fear surpris’d My daunted spirits. Straight then I advis’d My friends to flay the slaughter’d sacrifice, Put them in fire, and to the Deities, Stern Pluto and Persephoné, apply Exciteful pray’rs. Then drew I from my thigh My well-edg’d sword, stept in, and firmly stood Betwixt the prease of shadows and the blood, And would not suffer anyone to dip Within our off’ring his unsolid lip, Before Tiresias that did all controul. The first that press’d in was Elpenor’s soul, His body in the broad-way’d earth as yet Unmourn’d, unburied by us, since we swet With other urgent labours. Yet his smart I wept to see, and rued it from my heart, Enquiring how he could before me be That came by ship?
He, mourning, answer’d me: ‘In Circe’s house, the spite some spirit did bear, And the unspeakable good liquor there, Hath been my bane; for, being to descend A ladder much in height, I did not tend My way well down, but forwards made a proof To tread the rounds, and from the very roof Fell on my neck, and brake it; and this made My soul thus visit this infernal shade. And here, by them that next thyself are dear, Thy wife, and father, that a little one Gave food to thee, and by thy only son At home behind thee left, Telemachus, Do not depart by stealth, and leave me thus, Unmourn’d, unburied, lest neglected I Bring on thyself th’ incenséd Deity. I know that, sail’d from hence, thy ship must touch On th’ isle Ææa; where vouchsafe thus much, Good king, that, landed, thou wilt instantly Bestow on me thy royal memory To this grace, that my body, arms and all, May rest consum’d in fiery funeral; And on the foamy shore a sepulchre Erect to me, that after-times may hear Of one so hapless. Let me these implore And fix upon my sepulchre the oar[2] With which alive I shook the aged seas, And had of friends the dear societies.’
I told the wretched soul I would fulfill And execute to th’ utmost point his will; And, all the time we sadly talk’d, I still My sword above the blood held, when aside The idol of my friend still amplified His plaint, as up and down the shades he err’d. Then my deceaséd mother’s soul appear’d, Fair daughter of Autolycus the great, Grave Anticlea, whom, when forth I set For sacred Ilion, I had left alive. Her sight much mov’d me, and to tears did drive My note of her decease; and yet not she (Though in my ruth she held the high’st degree) Would I admit to touch the sacred blood, Till from Tiresias I had understood What Circe told me. At the length did land Theban Tiresias’ soul, and in his hand Sustain’d a golden sceptre, knew me well, And said: ‘O man unhappy, why to hell Admitt’st thou dark arrival, and the light The sun gives leav’st, to have the horrid sight Of this black region, and the shadows here? Now sheathe thy sharp sword, and the pit forbear, That I the blood may taste, and then relate The truth of those acts that affect thy fate.’ I sheath’d my sword, and left the pit, till he, The black blood tasting, thus instructed me: ‘Renown’d Ulysses! All unask’d I know That all the cause of thy arrival now Is to enquire thy wish’d retreat for home; Which hardly God will let thee overcome, Since Neptune still will his opposure try, With all his laid-up anger, for the eye His lov’d son lost to thee.
And yet through all Thy suff’ring course (which must be capital) If both thine own affections, and thy friends, Thou wilt contain, when thy access ascends The three-fork’d island, having ‘scap’d the seas, Where ye shall find fed on the flow’ry leas Fat flocks, and oxen, which the Sun doth own, To whom are all things as well heard as shown, And never dare one head of those to slay, But hold unharmful on your wishéd way, Though through enough affliction, yet secure Your Fates shall land ye; but presage says sure, If once ye spoil them, spoil to all thy friends, Spoil to thy fleet, and if the justice ends Short of thyself, it shall be long before, And that length forc’d out with inflictions store, When, losing all thy fellows, in a sail Of foreign built (when most thy Fates prevail In thy deliv’rance) thus th’ event shall sort: Thou shalt find shipwrack raging in thy port, Proud men thy goods consuming, and thy wife Urging with gifts, give charge upon thy life. But all these wrongs revenge shall end to thee, And force, or cunning, set with slaughter free The house of all thy spoilers.
Yet again Thou shalt a voyage make, and come to men That know no sea, nor ships, nor oars that are Wings to a ship, nor mix with any fare[3] Salt’s savoury vapour. Where thou first shalt land, This clear-giv’n sign shall let thee understand, That there those men remain: Assume ashore Up to thy royal shoulder a ship oar, With which, when thou shalt meet one on the way That will in country admiration say What dost thou with that wan upon thy neck? There fix that wan thy oar, and that shore deck With sacred rites to Neptune; slaughter there A ram, a bull, and (who for strength doth bear The name of husband to a herd) a boar. And, coming home, upon thy natural shore, Give pious hecatombs to all the Gods, Degrees observ’d. And then the periods Of all thy labours in the peace shall end Of easy death; which shall the less extend His passion to thee, that thy foe, the Sea, Shall not enforce it, but Death’s victory Shall chance in only-earnest-pray-vow’d age,[4] Obtain’d at home, quite emptied of his rage, Thy subjects round about thee, rich and blest. And here hath Truth summ’d up thy vital rest.’
I answer’d him: ‘We will suppose all these Decreed in Deity; let it likewise please Tiresias to resolve me, why so near The blood and me my mother’s soul doth bear, And yet nor word, nor look, vouchsafe her son? Doth she not know me?’ ‘No,’ said he, ‘nor none Of all these spirits, but myself alone, Knows anything till he shall taste the blood. But whomsoever you shall do that good, He will the truth of all you wish unfold; Who you envy it to will all withhold.’ Thus said the kingly soul, and made retreat Amidst the inner parts of Pluto’s seat, When he had spoke thus by divine instinct. Still I stood firm, till to the blood’s precinct My mother came, and drunk; and then she knew I was her son, had passion to renew Her natural plaints, which thus she did pursue: ‘How is it, O my son, that you alive This deadly-darksome region underdive? ’Twixt which, and earth, so many mighty seas, And horrid currents, interpose their prease, Oceanus in chief? Which none (unless More help’d than you) on foot now can transgress. A well-built ship he needs that ventures there. Com’st thou from Troy but now, enforc’d to err All this time with thy soldiers?
Nor hast seen, Ere this long day, thy country, and thy queen?’ I answer’d: ‘That a necessary end To this infernal state made me contend; That from the wise Tiresias’ Theban soul I might an oracle involv’d unroll; For I came nothing near Achaia yet, Nor on our lov’d earth happy foot had set, But, mishaps suff’ring, err’d from coast to coast, Ever since first the mighty Grecian host Divine Atrides led to Ilion, And I his follower, to set war upon The rapeful Trojans; and so pray’d she would The fate of that ungentle death unfold, That forc’d her thither; if some long disease, Or that the spleen of her-that-arrows-please, Diana, envious of most eminent dames, Had made her th’ object of her deadly aims? My father’s state and sons I sought, if they Kept still my goods? Or they became the prey Of any other, holding me no more In pow’r of safe return? Or if my store My wife had kept together with her son? If she her first mind held, or had been won By some chief Grecian from my love and bed?’ All this she answer’d: ‘That affliction fed On her blood still at home, and that to grief She all the days and darkness of her life In tears had consecrate.
That none possest My famous kingdom’s throne, but th’ interest My son had in it still he held in peace, A court kept like a prince, and his increase Spent in his subjects’ good, administ’ring laws With justice, and the general applause A king should merit, and all call’d him king. My father kept the upland, labouring, And shunn’d the city, us’d no sumptuous beds, Wonder’d-at furnitures, nor wealthy weeds, But in the winter strew’d about the fire Lay with his slaves in ashes, his attire Like to a beggar’s; when the summer came, And autumn all fruits ripen’d with his flame, Where grape-charg’d vines made shadows most abound, His couch with fall’n leaves made upon the ground, And here lay he, his sorrow’s fruitful state Increasing as he faded for my fate; And now the part of age that irksome is Lay sadly on him. And that life of his She led, and perish’d in; not slaughter’d by The Dame that darts lov’d, and her archery; Nor by disease invaded, vast and foul, That wastes the body, and sends out the soul With shame and horror; only in her moan, For me and my life, she consum’d her own.’ She thus, when I had great desire to prove My arms the circle where her soul did move.
Thrice prov’d I, thrice she vanish’d like a sleep, Or fleeting shadow, which struck much more deep The wounds my woes made, and made ask her why She would my love to her embraces fly, And not vouchsafe that ev’n in hell we might Pay pious Nature her unalter’d right, And give Vexation here her cruel fill? Should not the Queen here, to augment the ill Of ev’ry suff’rance, which her office is, Enforce thy idol to afford me this? ‘O son,’ she answer’d, ‘of the race of men The most unhappy, our most equal Queen Will mock no solid arms with empty shade, Nor suffer empty shades again t’ invade Flesh, bones, and nerves; nor will defraud the fire Of his last dues, that, soon as spirits expire And leave the white bone, are his native right, When, like a dream, the soul assumes her flight. The light then of the living with most haste, O son, contend to. This thy little taste Of this state is enough; and all this life Will make a tale fit to be told thy wife.’ This speech we had; when now repair’d to me More female spirits, by Persephoné Driv’n on before her.
All th’ heroës’ wives, And daughters, that led there their second lives, About the black blood throng’d. Of whom yet more My mind impell’d me to inquire, before I let them all together taste the gore, For then would all have been dispers’d, and gone Thick as they came. I, therefore, one by one Let taste the pit, my sword drawn from my thigh, And stand betwixt them made, when, sev’rally, All told their stocks. The first, that quench’d her fire, Was Tyro, issued of a noble sire. She said she sprung from pure Salmoneus’ bed, And Cretheus, son of Æolus, did wed; Yet the divine flood Enipëus lov’d, Who much the most fair stream of all floods mov’d. Near whose streams Tyro walking, Neptune came, Like Enipëus, and enjoy’d the dame. Like to a hill, the blue and snaky flood Above th’ immortal and the mortal stood, And hid them both, as both together lay, Just where his current falls into the sea.
Her virgin waist dissolv’d, she slumber’d then; But when the God had done the work of men, Her fair hand gently wringing, thus he said: ‘Woman! rejoice in our combinéd bed, For when the year hath run his circle round (Because the Gods’ loves must in fruit abound) My love shall make, to cheer thy teeming moans, Thy one dear burden bear two famous sons; Love well, and bring them up. Go home, and see That, though of more joy yet I shall be free, Thou dost not tell, to glorify thy birth; Thy love is Neptune, shaker of the earth.’ This said, he plung’d into the sea; and she, Begot with child by him, the light let see Great Pelias, and Neleus, that became In Jove’s great ministry of mighty fame. Pelias in broad Iolcus held his throne, Wealthy in cattle; th’ other royal son Rul’d sandy Pylos. To these issue more This queen of women to her husband bore, Æson, and Pheres, and Amythaon That for his fight on horseback stoop’d to none.
Next her, I saw admir’d Antiope, Asopus’ daughter, who (as much as she Boasted attraction of great Neptune’s love) Boasted to slumber in the arms of Jove, And two sons likewise at one burden bore To that her all-controlling paramour, Amphion, and fair Zethus; that first laid Great Thebes’ foundations, and strong walls convey’d About her turrets, that seven ports enclos’d, For though the Thebans much in strength repos’d, Yet had not they the strength to hold their own, Without the added aids of wood and stone. Alcmena next I saw, that famous wife Was to Amphitryo, and honour’d life Gave to the lion-hearted Hercules, That was of Jove’s embrace the great increase. I saw, besides, proud Creon’s daughter there, Bright Megara, that nuptial yoke did wear With Jove’s great son, who never field did try But bore to him the flow’r of victory. The mother then of Œdipus I saw, Fair Epicasta, that, beyond all law, Her own son married, ignorant of kind. And he, as darkly taken in his mind, His mother wedded, and his father slew. Whose blind act Heav’n expos’d at length to view, And he in all-lov’d Thebes the supreme state With much moan manag’d, for the heavy fate The Gods laid on him.
She made violent flight To Pluto’s dark house from the loathéd light, Beneath a steep beam strangled with a cord, And left her son, in life, pains as abhorr’d As all the Furies pour’d on her in hell. Then saw I Chloris, that did so excell In answering beauties, that each part had all. Great Neleus married her, when gifts not small Had won her favour, term’d by name of dow’r. She was of all Amphion’s seed the flow’r; Amphion, call’d Iasides, that then Rul’d strongly Myniæan Orchomen, And now his daughter rul’d the Pylian throne, Because her beauty’s empire overshone. She brought her wife-awed husband, Neleús, Nestor much honour’d, Periclymenus, And Chromius, sons with sov’reign virtues grac’d; But after brought a daughter that surpass’d, Rare-beautied Pero, so for form exact That Nature to a miracle was rack’d In her perfections, blaz’d with th’ eyes of men; That made of all the country’s hearts a chain, And drew them suitors to her. Which her sire Took vantage of, and, since he did aspire To nothing more than to the broad-brow’d herd Of oxen, which the common fame so rear’d, Own’d by Iphiclus, not a man should be His Pero’s husband, that from Phylace Those never-yet-driv’n oxen could not drive.
Yet these a strong hope held him to achieve, Because a prophet, that had never err’d, Had said, that only he should be preferr’d To their possession. But the equal fate Of God withstood his stealth; inextricate Imprisoning bands, and sturdy churlish swains That were the herdsmen, who withheld with chains The stealth-attempter; which was only he That durst abet the act with prophecy, None else would undertake it, and he must; The king would needs a prophet should be just. But when some days and months expired were, And all the hours had brought about the year, The prophet did so satisfy the king (Iphiclus, all his cunning questioning) That he enfranchis’d him; and, all worst done, Jove’s counsel made th’ all-safe conclusión. Then saw I Leda, link’d in nuptial chain With Tyndarus, to whom she did sustain Sons much renown’d for wisdom; Castor one, That pass’d for use of horse comparison; And Pollux, that excell’d in whirlbat fight; Both these the fruitful earth bore, while the light Of life inspir’d them; after which, they found Such grace with Jove, that both liv’d under ground, By change of days; life still did one sustain, While th’ other died; the dead then liv’d again, The living dying; both of one self date Their lives and deaths made by the Gods and Fate. Iphimedia after Leda came, That did derive from Neptune too the name Of father to two admirable sons. Life yet made short their admiratións, Who God-opposéd Otus had to name, And Ephialtes far in sound of fame. The prodigal earth so fed them, that they grew To most huge stature, and had fairest hue Of all men, but Orion, under heav’n. At nine years old nine cubits they were driv’n Abroad in breadth, and sprung nine fathoms high. They threaten’d to give battle to the sky, And all th’ Immortals.
They were setting on Ossa upon Olympus, and upon Steep Ossa leavy Pelius, that ev’n They might a highway make with lofty heav’n; And had perhaps perform’d it, had they liv’d Till they were striplings; but Jove’s son depriv’d Their limbs of life, before th’ age that begins The flow’r of youth, and should adorn their chins. Phædra and Procris, with wise Minos’ flame, Bright Ariadne, to the off’ring came. Whom whilome Theseus made his prise from Crete, That Athens’ sacred soil might kiss her feet, But never could obtain her virgin flow’r, Till, in the sea-girt Dia, Dian’s pow’r Detain’d his homeward haste, where (in her fane, By Bacchus witness’d) was the fatal wane Of her prime glory, Mæra, Clymene, I witness’d there; and loath’d Eriphyle, That honour’d gold more than she lov’d her spouse.[5] But, all th’ heroesses in Pluto’s house That then encounter’d me, exceeds my might To name or number, and ambrosian night Would quite be spent, when now the formal hours Present to sleep our all disposéd pow’rs, If at my ship, or here. My home-made vow I leave for fit grace to the Gods and you.” This said; the silence his discourse had made With pleasure held still through the house’s shade, When white-arm’d Areté this speech began: “Phæacians!
How appears to you this man, So goodly person’d, and so match’d with mind? My guest he is, but all you stand combin’d In the renown he doth us. Do not then With careless haste dismiss him, nor the main Of his dispatch to one so needy maim, The Gods’ free bounty gives us all just claim To goods enow.” This speech, the oldest man Of any other Phæacensian, The grave heroë, Echinëus, gave All approbation, saying: “Friends! ye have The motion of the wise queen in such words As have not miss’d the mark, with which accords My clear opinion. But Alcinous, In word and work, must be our rule.” He thus; And then Alcinous said: “This then must stand, If while I live I rule in the command Of this well-skill’d-in-navigation state: Endure then, guest, though most importunate Be your affects for home. A little stay If your expectance bear, perhaps it may Our gifts make more complete. The cares of all Your due deduction asks; but principal I am therein the ruler.”
He replied: “Alcinous, the most duly glorified With rule of all of all men, if you lay Commandment on me of a whole year’s stay, So all the while your preparations rise, As well in gifts as time,[6] ye can devise No better wish for me; for I shall come Much fuller-handed, and more honoured, home, And dearer to my people, in whose loves The richer evermore the better proves.” He answer’d: “There is argued in your sight A worth that works not men for benefit, Like prollers or impostors; of which crew, The gentle black earth feeds not up a few, Here and there wand’rers, blanching tales and lies, Of neither praise, nor use. You move our eyes With form, our minds with matter, and our ears With elegant oration, such as bears A music in the order’d history It lays before us. Not Demodocus With sweeter strains hath us’d to sing to us All the Greek sorrows, wept out in your own. But say: Of all your worthy friends, were none Objected to your eyes that consorts were To Ilion with you, and serv’d destiny there? This night is passing long, unmeasur’d, none Of all my household would to bed yet; on, Relate these wondrous things.
Were I with you, If you would tell me but your woes, as now, Till the divine Aurora show’d her head, I should in no night relish thought of bed.” “Most eminent king,” said he, “times all must keep, There’s time to speak much, time as much to sleep. But would you hear still, I will tell you still, And utter more, more miserable ill Of friends than yet, that scap’d the dismal wars, And perish’d homewards, and in household jars Wag’d by a wicked woman. The chaste Queen No sooner made these lady ghosts unseen, Here and there flitting, but mine eyesight won The soul of Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, Sad, and about him all his train of friends, That in Ægisthus’ house endur’d their ends With his stern fortune. Having drunk the blood, He knew me instantly, and forth a flood Of springing tears gush’d; out he thrust his hands, With will t’ embrace me, but their old commands Flow’d not about him, nor their weakest part. I wept to see, and moan’d him from my heart, And ask’d: ‘O Agamemnon! King of men! What sort of cruel death hath render’d slain Thy royal person? Neptune in thy fleet Heav’n and his hellish billows making meet, Rousing the winds?
Or have thy men by land Done thee this ill, for using thy command, Past their consents, in diminution Of those full shares their worths by lot had won Of sheep or oxen? Or of any town, In covetous strife, to make their rights thine own In men or women prisoners?’ He replied: ‘By none of these in any right I died, But by Ægisthus and my murd’rous wife (Bid to a banquet at his house) my life Hath thus been reft me, to my slaughter led Like to an ox pretended to be fed. So miserably fell I, and with me My friends lay massacred, as when you see At any rich man’s nuptials, shot, or feast, About his kitchen white-tooth’d swine lie drest. The slaughters of a world of men thine eyes, Both private, and in prease of enemies, Have personally witness’d; but this one Would all thy parts have broken into moan, To see how strew’d about our cups and cates, As tables set with feast, so we with fates, All gash’d and slain lay, all the floor embrued With blood and brain.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.