The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
But, as for me, I nourish’d little will T’ inquire or question of him, since the man That feign’d himself the fled Ætolian, For slaught’ring one, through many regions stray’d, In my stall, as his diversory, stay’d. Where well entreating him, he told me then, Amongst the Cretans, with king Idomen, He saw Ulysses at his ship’s repair, That had been brush’d with the enragéd air; And that in summer, or in autumn, sure, With all his brave friends and rich furniture, He would be here; and nothing so, nor so. But thou, an old man, taught with so much woe As thou hast suffer’d, to be season’d true, And brought by his fate, do not here pursue His gratulations with thy cunning lies, Thou canst not soak so through my faculties For I did never either honour thee Or give thee love, to bring these tales to me, But in my fear of hospitable Jove Thou didst to this pass my affections move.” “You stand exceeding much incredulous,” Replied Ulysses, “to have witness’d thus My word and oath, yet yield no trust at all.
But make me now a covenant here, and call The dreadful Gods to witness, that take seat In large Olympus: If your king’s retreat Prove made, ev’n hither, you shall furnish me With cloak, and coat, and make my passage free For lov’d Dulichius; if, as fits my vow, Your king return not, let your servants throw My old limbs headlong from some rock most high, That other poor men may take fear to lie.” The herdsman, that had gifts in him divine, Replied: “O guest, how shall this fame of mine And honest virtue, amongst men, remain Now, and hereafter, without worthy stain, If I, that led thee to my hovel here, And made thee fitting hospitable cheer, Should after kill thee, and thy lovéd mind Force from thy bones? Or how should stand inclin’d With any faith my will t’ importune Jove, In any pray’r hereafter for his love? Come, now ’tis supper’s hour, and instant haste My men will make home, when our sweet repast We’ll taste together.” This discourse they held In mutual kind, when from a neighbour-field His swine and swine-herds came, who in their cotes Inclos’d their herds for sleep, which mighty throats Laid out in ent’ring.
Then the God-like swain His men enjoin’d thus: “Bring me to be slain A chief swine female, for my stranger guest, When altogether we will take our feast, Refreshing now our spirits, that all day take Pains in our swine’s good, who may therefore make For our pains with them all amends with one, Since others eat our labours, and take none.” This said, his sharp steel hew’d down wood, and they A passing fat swine hal’d out of the sty, Of five years old, which to the fire they put. When first Eumæus from the front did cut The sacred hair, and cast it in the fire, Then pray’d to heav’n; for still before desire Was serv’d with food, in their so rude abodes, Not the poor swine-herd would forget the Gods, Good souls they bore, how bad soever were The habits that their bodies’ parts did bear. When all the deathless Deities besought, That wise Ulysses might be safely brought Home to his house; then with a log of oak Left lying by, high lifting it, a stroke He gave so deadly it made life expire.
Then cut the rest her throat, and all in fire They hid and sing’d her, cut her up; and then, The master took the office from the men, Who on the altar did the parts impose That serv’d for sacrifice; beginning close About the belly, thorough which he went. And (all the chief fat gath’ring) gave it vent (Part dredg’d with flour) into the sacred flame; Then cut they up the joints, and roasted them, Drew all from spit, and serv’d in dishes all. Then rose Eumæus (who was general In skill to guide each act his fit event) And, all in seven parts cut, the first part went To service of the Nymphs and Mercury, To whose names he did rites of piety In vows particular; and all the rest He shar’d to ev’ry one, but his lov’d guest He grac’d with all the chine, and of that king, To have his heart cheer’d, set up ev’ry string. Which he observing said: “I would to Jove, Eumæus, thou liv’dst in his worthy love As great as mine, that giv’st to such a guest As my poor self of all thy goods the best.” Eumæus answer’d: “Eat, unhappy wretch, And to what here is at thy pleasure reach.
This I have, this thou want’st; thus God will give, Thus take away, in us, and all that live. To his will’s equal centre all things fall, His mind he must have, for he can do all.” Thus having eat, and to his wine descended, Before he serv’d his own thirst, he commended The first use of it in fit sacrifice (As of his meat) to all the Deities, And to the city-racer’s hand applied The second cup, whose place was next his side. Mesauliús did distribute the meat, (To which charge was Eumæus solely set, In absence of Ulysses, by the queen And old Laertes) and this man had been Bought by Eumæus, with his faculties, Employ’d then in the Taphian merchandise. But now, to food appos’d, and order’d thus, All fell. Desire suffic’d, Mesauliús Did take away. For bed then next they were, All thoroughly satisfied with cómplete cheer.
The night then came, ill, and no taper shin’d; Jove rain’d her whole date; th’ ever-wat’ry wind Zephyr blew loud; and Laertiades (Approving kind Eumæus’ carefulness For his whole good) made far about assay, To get some cast-off cassock (lest he lay That rough night cold) of him, or anyone Of those his servants; when he thus begun: “Hear me, Eumæus, and my other friends, I’ll use a speech that to my glory tends, Since I have drunk wine past my usual guise. _Strong wine commands the fool and moves the wise,_ Moves and impels him too to sing and dance, And break in pleasant laughters, and, perchance, Prefer a speech too that were better in. But when my spirits once to speak begin, I shall not then dissemble. Would to heav’n, I were as young, and had my forces driv’n As close together, as when once our pow’rs We led to ambush under th’ Ilion tow’rs! Where Ithacus and Menelaus were The two commanders, when it pleas’d them there To take myself for third, when to the town And lofty walls we led, we couch’d close down, All arm’d, amids the osiers and the reeds, Which oftentimes th’ o’er-flowing river feeds.
The cold night came, and th’ icy northern gale Blew bleak upon us, after which did fall A snow so cold, it cut as in it beat A frozen water, which was all concrete About our shields like crystal. All made feign Above our arms to clothe, and clothe again. And so we made good shift, our shields beside Clapp’d close upon our clothes, to rest and hide From all discovery. But I, poor fool, Left my weeds with my men, because so cool I thought it could not prove; which thought my pride A little strengthen’d, being loth to hide A goodly glitt’ring garment I had on; And so I follow’d with my shield alone, And that brave weed. But when the night near ended Her course on earth, and that the stars descended, I jogg’d Ulysses, who lay passing near, And spake to him, that had a nimble ear, Assuring him, that long I could not lie Amongst the living, for the fervency Of that sharp night would kill me, since as then My evil angel made me with my men Leave all weeds but a fine one. But I know ’Tis vain to talk; here wants all remedy now.
This said, he bore that understanding part In his prompt spirit that still show’d his art In fight and counsel, saying (in a word, And that low whisper’d) peace, lest you afford Some Greek note of your softness. No word more, But made as if his stern austerity bore My plight no pity; yet, as still he lay His head reposing on his hand, gave way To this invention: ‘Hear me friends, a dream (That was of some celestial light a beam) Stood in my sleep before me, prompting me With this fit notice: ‘We are far,’ said he, ‘From out our fleet. Let one go then, and try If Agamemnon will afford supply To what we now are strong.’ This stirr’d a speed In Thoas to th’ affair; whose purple weed He left for haste; which then I took, and lay In quiet after, till the dawn of day. This shift Ulysses made for one in need, And would to heav’n, that youth such spirit did feed Now in my nerves, and that my joints were knit With such a strength as made me then held fit To lead men with Ulysses!
I should then Seem worth a weed that fits a herdsman’s men, For two respects, to gain a thankful friend, And to a good man’s need a good extend.” “O father,” said Eumæus “thou hast shown Good cause for us to give thee good renown, Not using any word that was not freed From all least ill. Thou, therefore, shalt not need Or coat, or other thing, that aptly may Beseem a wretched suppliant for defray Of this night’s need. But, when her golden throne The morn ascends, you must resume your own, For here you must not dream of many weeds, Or any change at all. We serve our needs As you do yours; one back, one coat. But when Ulysses’ lovéd son returns, he then Shall give you coat and cassock, and bestow Your person where your heart and soul is now,” This said, he rose, made near the fire his bed, Which all with goats’ and sheep skins he bespread. All which Ulysses with himself did line, With whom; besides, he chang’d a gaberdine, Thick lin’d, and soft, which still he made his shift When he would dress him ’gainst the horrid drift Of tempest, when deep winter’s season blows.
Nor pleas’d it him to lie there with his sows, But while Ulysses slept there, and close by The other younkers, he abroad would lie, And therefore arm’d him. Which set cheerful fare Before Ulysses’ heart, to see such care Of his goods taken, how far off soever His fate his person and his wealth should sever. First then, a sharp-edg’d sword he girt about His well-spread shoulders, and (to shelter out The sharp West wind that blew) he put him on A thick-lin’d jacket, and yet cast upon All that the large hide of a goat well-fed. A lance then took he, with a keen steel head, To be his keep-off both ’gainst men and dogs. And thus went he to rest with his male hogs, That still abroad lay underneath a rock, Shield to the North wind’s ever-eager shock. THE END OF THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS. [1] _Πρόσυλος, materiæ adhærens: item, qui rebus mundanis deditus est._ [2] _‘ϒλακόμωρος, ad latrandum fato quodam natus._ [3] _Ανὴρ ἀπατήλια εἰδὼς, τρώκτης._ [4] _‘Ελελίχθη qui terram rapido motu concutit._ [5] _‘Απριάτην sine emptionis seu redemptionis pretio._ [6] At sunset. [7] _Περίϕρων._ Minerva to his native seat. Exhorts Ulysses’ son’s retreat, In bed, and waking. He receives Gifts of Atrides, and so leaves The Spartan court. And, going aboard, Doth favourable way afford To Theoclymenus, that was The Argive augur, and sought pass, Fled for a slaughter he had done. Eumæus tells Laertes’ son, How he became his father’s man, Being sold by the Phœnician For some agreed-on faculties, From forth the Syrian isle made prise. Telemachus, arrived at home, Doth to Eumæus’ cottage come.
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