The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems · Homer
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Come then, go right to Nestor; let us see, If in his bosom any counsel be, That may inform us. Pray him not to trace The common courtship, and to speak in grace Of the demander, but to tell the truth; Which will delight him, and commend thy youth For such prevention; for he loves no lies, Nor will report them, being truly wise.” He answer’d: “Mentor! how, alas! shall I Present myself? How greet his gravity? My youth by no means that ripe form affords, That can digest my mind’s instinct in words Wise, and beseeming th’ ears of one so sage. Youth of most hope blush to use words with age.” She said: “Thy mind will some conceit impress, And something God will prompt thy towardness; For, I suppose, thy birth, and breeding too, Were not in spite of what the Gods could do.” This said, she swiftly went before, and he Her steps made guides, and follow’d instantly. When soon they reach’d the Pylian throngs and seats, Where Nestor with his sons sat; and the meats, That for the feast serv’d, round about them were Adherents dressing, all their sacred cheer, Being roast and boil’d meats.
When the Pylians saw These strangers come, in thrust did all men draw About their entry, took their hands, and pray’d They both would sit; their entry first assay’d By Nestor’s son, Pisistratus. In grace Of whose repair, he gave them honour’d place Betwixt his sire and brother Thrasymed, Who sat at feast on soft fells that were spread Along the sea sands, kerv’d, and reach’d to them Parts of the inwards, and did make a stream Of spritely wine into a golden bowl; Which to Minerva with a gentle soul He gave, and thus spake: “Ere you eat, fair guest, Invoke the Seas’ King, of whose sacred feast Your travel hither makes ye partners now; When, sacrificing as becomes, bestow This bowl of sweet wine on your friend, that he May likewise use these rites of piety; For I suppose his youth doth prayers use, Since all men need the Gods. But you I choose First in this cup’s disposure, since his years Seem short of yours, who more like me appears.”
Thus gave he her the cup of pleasant wine; And since a wise and just man did design The golden bowl first to her free receit, Ev’n to the Goddess it did add delight, Who thus invok’d: “Hear thou, whose vast embrace Enspheres the whole earth, nor disdain thy grace To us that ask it in performing this: To Nestor first, and these fair sons of his, Vouchsafe all honour; and, next them, bestow On all these Pylians, that have offer’d now This most renowned hecatomb to thee, Remuneration fit for them, and free; And lastly deign Telemachus and me, The work perform’d for whose effect we came, Our safe return, both with our ship and fame.” Thus pray’d she; and herself herself obey’d, In th’ end performing all for which she pray’d. And now, to pray, and do as she had done, She gave the fair round bowl t’ Ulysses’ son. The meat then dress’d, and drawn, and serv’d t’ each guest, They celebrated a most sumptuous feast. When appetite to wine and food allay’d, Horse-taming Nestor then began, and said: “Now life’s desire is serv’d, as far as fare, Time fits me to enquire what guests these are. Fair guests, what are ye? And for what coast tries Your ship the moist deeps? For fit merchandise?
Or rudely coast ye, like our men of prise, The rough seas tempting, desperately erring, The ill of others in their good conferring?” The wise prince now his boldness did begin, For Pallas’ self had harden’d him within, By this device of travel to explore His absent father; which two girlonds wore; His good by manage of his spirits; and then To gain him high grace in th’ accounts of men. “O Nestor! still in whom Nelëus lives! And all the glory of the Greeks survives, You ask from whence we are, and I relate: From Ithaca (whose seat is situate Where Neius, the renownéd mountain, rears His haughty forehead, and the honour bears To be our sea-mark) we assay’d the waves. The business, I must tell, our own good craves, And not the public. I am come t’ enquire, If, in the fame that best men doth inspire Of my most-suff’ring father, I may hear Some truth of his estate now, who did bear The name, being join’d in fight with you alone, To even with earth the height of Ilion.
Of all men else, that any name did bear, And fought for Troy, the sev’ral ends we hear; But his death Jove keeps from the world unknown, The certain fame thereof being told by none; If on the continent by enemies slain, Or with the waves eat of the ravenous main. For his love ’tis that to your knees I sue, That you would please, out of your own clear view, T’ assure his sad end; or say, if your ear Hath heard of the unhappy wanderer, To too much sorrow whom his mother bore. You then by all your bounties I implore, (If ever to you deed or word hath stood, By my good father promis’d, render’d good Amongst the Trojans, where ye both have tried The Grecian suff’rance) that in nought applied To my respect or pity you will glose, But uncloth’d truth to my desires disclose.” “O my much-lov’d,” said he, “since you renew Remembrance of the miseries that grew Upon our still-in-strength-opposing Greece Amongst Troy’s people, I must touch a piece Of all our woes there, either in the men Achilles brought by sea and led to gain About the country, or in us that fought About the city, where to death were brought All our chief men, as many as were there.
There Mars-like Ajax lies; Achilles there; There the in-counsel-like-the-Gods, his friend; There my dear son Antilochus took end, Past measure swift of foot, and staid in fight. A number more that ills felt infinite; Of which to reckon all, what mortal man, If five or six years you should stay here, can Serve such enquiry? You would back again, Affected with unsufferable pain, Before you heard it. Nine years sieg’d we them, With all the depth and sleight of stratagem That could be thought. Ill knit to ill past end. Yet still they toil’d us; nor would yet Jove send Rest to our labours, nor will scarcely yet. But no man liv’d, that would in public set His wisdom by Ulysses’ policy, As thought his equal; so excessively He stood superior all ways. If you be His son indeed, mine eyes ev’n ravish me To admiration. And in all consent Your speech puts on his speech’s ornament. Nor would one say, that one so young could use, Unless his son, a rhetoric so profuse. And while we liv’d together, he and I Never in speech maintain’d diversity; Nor sat in council but, by one soul led, With spirit and prudent counsel furnishéd The Greeks at all hours, that, with fairest course, What best became them, they might put in force.
But when Troy’s’ high tow’rs we had levell’d thus, We put to sea, and God divided us. And then did Jove our sad retreat devise; For all the Greeks were neither just nor wise, And therefore many felt so sharp a fate, Sent from Minerva’s most pernicious hate; Whose mighty Father can do fearful things. By whose help she betwixt the brother kings Let fall contention; who in council met In vain, and timeless, when the sun was set, And all the Greeks call’d, that came charg’d with wine. Yet then the kings would utter their design, And why they summon’d. Menelaus, he Put all in mind of home, and cried, To sea. But Agamemnon stood on contraries, Whose will was, they should stay and sacrifice Whole hecatombs to Pallas, to forego Her high wrath to them. Fool! that did not know She would not so be won; for not with ease Th’ Eternal Gods are turn’d from what they please. So they, divided, on foul language stood. The Greeks in huge rout rose, their wine-heat blood Two ways affecting. And, that night’s sleep too, We turn’d to studying either other’s woe; When Jove besides made ready woes enow. Morn came, we launch’d, and in our ships did stow Our goods, and fair-girt women.
Half our men The people’s guide, Atrides, did contain, And half, being now aboard, put forth to sea. A most free gale gave all ships prosp’rous way. God settled then the huge whale-bearing lake, And Tenedos we reach’d; where, for time’s sake, We did divine rites to the Gods. But Jove, Inexorable still, bore yet no love To our return, but did again excite A second sad contention, that turn’d quite A great part of us back to sea again; Which were th’ abundant-in-all-counsels man, Your matchless father, who, to gratify The great Atrides, back to him did fly. But I fled all, with all that follow’d me, Because I knew God studied misery, To hurl amongst us. With me likewise fled Martial Tydides. I the men he led Gat to go with him. Winds our fleet did bring To Lesbos, where the yellow-headed king, Though late, yet found us, as we put to choice A tedious voyage; if we sail should hoise Above rough Chius, left on our left hand, To th’ isle of Psyria, or that rugged land Sail under, and for windy Mimas steer.
We ask’d of God that some ostent might clear Our cloudy business, who gave us sign, And charge, that all should, in a middle line, The sea cut for Eubœa, that with speed Our long-sustain’d infortune might be freed. Then did a whistling wind begin to rise, And swiftly flew we through the fishy skies, Till to Geræstus we in night were brought; Where, through the broad sea since we safe had wrought, At Neptune’s altars many solid thighs Of slaughter’d bulls we burn’d for sacrifice. The fourth day came, when Tydeus’ son did greet The haven of Argos with his cómplete fleet. But I for Pylos straight steer’d on my course; Nor ever left the wind his foreright force, Since God fore-sent it first. And thus I came, Dear son, to Pylos, uninform’d by fame, Nor know one sav’d by Fate, or overcome. Whom I have heard of since, set here at home, As fits, thou shalt be taught, nought left unshown. The expert spear-men, ev’ry Myrmidon, Led by the brave heir of the mighty-soul’d Unpeer’d Achilles, safe of home got hold; Safe Philoctetes, Pœan’s famous seed; And safe Idomenæus his men led To his home, Crete, who fled the arméd field, Of whom yet none the sea from him withheld.
Atrides, you have both heard, though ye be His far-off dwellers, what an end had he, Done by Ægisthus to a bitter death; Who miserably paid for forcéd breath, Atrides leaving a good son, that dyed, In blood of that deceitful parricide, His wreakful sword. And thou my friend, as he For this hath his fame, the like spirit in thee Assume at all parts. Fair and great, I see, Thou art in all hope, make it good to th’ end, That after-times as much may thee commend.” He answer’d: “O thou greatest grace of Greece, Orestes made that wreak his master-piece, And him the Greeks will give a master-praise, Verse finding him to last all after-days. And would to God the Gods would favour me With his performance, that my injury, Done by my mother’s Wooers, being so foul, I might revenge upon their ev’ry soul; Who, pressing me with contumelies, dare Such things as past the pow’r of utt’rance are. But Heav’n’s great Pow’rs have grac’d my destiny With no such honour. Both my sire and I Are born to suffer everlastingly.”
“Because you name those Wooers, friend,” said he, “Report says, many such, in spite of thee, Wooing thy mother, in thy house commit The ills thou nam’st. But say: Proceedeth it From will in thee to bear so foul a foil? Or from thy subjects’ hate, that wish thy spoil, And will not aid thee, since their spirits rely, Against thy rule, on some grave augury? What know they, but at length thy father may Come, and with violence their violence pay; Or he alone, or all the Greeks with him? But if Minerva now did so esteem Thee, as thy father in times past; whom, past All measure, she with glorious favours grac’t Amongst the Trojans, where we suffer’d so; (O! I did never see, in such clear show, The Gods so grace a man, as she to him, To all our eyes, appear’d in all her trim) If so, I say, she would be pleas’d to love, And that her mind’s care thou so much couldst move, As did thy father, ev’ry man of these Would lose in death their seeking marriages.” “O father,” answer’d he, “you make amaze Seize me throughout. Beyond the height of phrase You raise expression; but ’twill never be, That I shall move in any Deity So blest an honour.
Not by any means, If Hope should prompt me, or blind Confidence, (The Gods of Fools) or ev’ry Deity Should will it; for ’tis past my destiny.” The burning-eyed Dame answer’d: “What a speech Hath past the teeth-guard Nature gave to teach Fit question of thy words before they fly! God easily can[1] (when to mortal eye He’s furthest off) a mortal satisfy; And does the more still. For thy car’d-for sire, I rather wish, that I might home retire, After my suff’rance of a world of woes, Far off, and then my glad eyes might disclose The day of my return, then straight retire, And perish standing by my household fire; As Agamemnon did, that lost his life By false Ægisthus, and his falser wife. For Death to come at length, ’tis due to all; Nor can the Gods themselves, when Fate shall call Their most-lov’d man, extend his vital breath Beyond the fix’d bounds of abhorréd Death.” “Mentor!” said he, “let’s dwell no more on this, Although in us the sorrow pious is. No such return, as we wish, Fates bequeath My erring father; whom a present death The Deathless have decreed.
I’ll now use speech That tends to other purpose; and beseech Instruction of grave Nestor, since he flows Past shore in all experience, and knows The sleights and wisdoms, and whose heights aspire Others, as well as my commended sire, Whom Fame reports to have commanded three Ages of men, and doth in sight to me Show like th’ Immortals. Nestor! the renown Of old Neleius, make the clear truth known, How the most-great-in-empire, Atreus’ son, Sustain’d the act of his destruction, Where then was Menelaus? How was it That false Ægisthus, being so far unfit A match for him, could his death so enforce? Was he not then in Argos? or his course With men so left, to let a coward breathe Spirit enough to dare his brother’s death?” “I’ll tell thee truth in all, fair son,” said he: “Right well was this event conceiv’d by thee. If Menelaus in his brother’s house Had found the idle liver with his spouse, Arriv’d from Troy, he had not liv’d, nor dead Had the digg’d heap pour’d on his lustful head, But fowls and dogs had torn him in the fields, Far off of Argos; not a dame it yields Had giv’n him any tear, so foul his fact Show’d ev’n to women.
Us Troy’s wars had rack’d To ev’ry sinew’s sufferance, while he In Argos’ uplands liv’d, from those works free, And Agamemnon’s wife with force of word Flatter’d and soften’d, who, at first, abhorr’d A fact so infamous. The heav’nly dame A good mind had, but was in blood to blame. There was a poet, to whose care the king His queen committed, and in ev’ry thing, When he from Troy went, charg’d him to apply Himself in all guard to her dignity. But when strong Fate so wrapt-in her effects, That she resolv’d to leave her fit respects, Into a desert isle her guardian led, There left, the rapine of the vultures fed. Then brought he willing home his will’s won prize, On sacred altars offer’d many thighs, Hung in the God’s fanes many ornaments, Garments and gold, that he the vast events Of such a labour to his wish had brought, As neither fell into his hope nor thought.
At last, from Troy sail’d Sparta’s king and I, Both holding her untouch’d. And, that his eye Might see no worse of her, when both were blown To sacred Sunium, of Minerva’s town The goodly promontory, with his shafts severe Augur Apollo slew him that did steer Atrides’ ship, as he the stern did guide, And she the full speed of her sail applied. He was a man that natións of men Excell’d in safe guide of a vessel, when A tempest rush’d in on the ruffled seas; His name was Phrontis Onetorides. And thus was Menelaus held from home, Whose way he thirsted so to overcome, To give his friend the earth, being his pursuit, And all his exequies to execute. But sailing still the wine-hued seas,[2] to reach Some shore for fit performance, he did fetch The steep mount of the Malians, and there, With open voice, offended Jupiter Proclaim’d the voyage his repugnant mind, And pour’d the puffs out of a shrieking wind, That nourish’d billows heighten’d like to hills; And with the fleet’s division fulfills His hate proclaim’d; upon a part of Crete Casting the navy, where the sea-waves meet Rough Jardanus, and where the Cydons live.
There is a rock, on which the sea doth drive, Bare, and all broken, on the confines set Of Gortys, that the dark seas likewise fret; And hither sent the South a horrid drift Of waves against the top, that was the left Of that torn cliff as far as Phæstus’ strand. A little stone the great sea’s rage did stand. The men here driv’n ‘scap’d hard the ship’s sore shocks, The ships themselves being wrack’d against the rocks, Save only five, that blue fore-castles bore, Which wind and water cast on Egypt’s shore. When he (there victling well, and store of gold Aboard his ships brought) his wild way did hold, And t’ other languag’d men was forc’d to roam. Mean space Ægisthus made sad work at home, And slew his brother, forcing to his sway Atrides’ subjects, and did sev’n years lay His yoke upon the rich Mycenian state. But in the eighth, to his affrighting fate, Divine Orestes home from Athens came, And what his royal father felt, the same He made the false Ægisthus groan beneath. _Death evermore is the reward of death._ Thus having slain him, a sepulchral feast He made the Argives for his lustful guest, And for his mother whom he did detest.
The self-same day upon him stole the king Good-at-a-martial-shout, and goods did bring, As many as his freighted fleet could bear. But thou, my son, too long by no means err, Thy goods left free for many a spoilful guest, Lest they consume some, and divide the rest, And thou, perhaps, besides, thy voyage lose. To Menelaus yet thy course dispose I wish and charge thee; who but late arriv’d From such a shore and men, as to have liv’d In a return from them he never thought, And whom black whirlwinds violently brought Within a sea so vast, that in a year Not any fowl could pass it anywhere, So huge and horrid was it. But go thou With ship and men (or, if thou pleasest now To pass by land, there shall be brought for thee Both horse and chariot, and thy guides shall be My sons themselves) to Sparta the divine, And to the king whose locks like amber shine. Intreat the truth of him, nor loves he lies, Wisdom in truth is, and he’s passing wise.” This said, the Sun went down, and up rose Night, When Pallas spake: “O father, all good right Bear thy directions.
But divide we now The sacrifices’ tongues, mix wines, and vow To Neptune, and the other Ever-Blest, That, having sacrific’d, we may to rest. The fit hour runs now, light dives out of date, At sacred feasts we must not sit too late.” She said; they heard; the heralds water gave; The youths crown’d cups with wine, and let all have Their equal shares, beginning from the cup Their parting banquet. All the tongues cut up, The fire they gave them, sacrific’d, and rose, Wine, and divine rites us’d, to each dispose; Minerva and Telemachus desir’d They might to ship be, with his leave, retir’d. He, mov’d with that, provok’d thus their abodes: “Now Jove forbid, and all the long-liv’d Gods, Your leaving me, to sleep aboard a ship; As I had drunk of poor Penia’s whip, Even to my nakedness, and had nor sheet Nor cov’ring in my house; that warm nor sweet A guest, nor I myself, had means to sleep; Where I, both weeds and wealthy cov’rings keep For all my guests. Nor shall Fame ever say, The dear son of the man Ulysses lay All night a-ship-board here while my days shine, Or in my court whiles any son of mine Enjoys survival, who shall guests receive, Whomever my house hath a nook to leave.”
“My much-lov’d father,” said Minerva, “well All this becomes thee. But persuade to dwell This night with thee thy son Telemachus, For more convenient is the course for us, That he may follow to thy house and rest, And I may board our black-sail, that addrest At all parts I may make our men, and cheer All with my presence, since of all men there I boast myself the senior, th’ others are Youths, that attend in free and friendly care Great-soul’d Telemachus, and are his peers In fresh similitude of form and years. For their confirmance, I will therefore now Sleep in our black bark. But, when light shall show Her silver forehead, I intend my way Amongst the Caucons, men that are to pay A debt to me, nor small, nor new.
For this, Take you him home; whom in the morn dismiss, With chariot and your sons, and give him horse Ablest in strength, and of the speediest course” This said, away she flew, form’d like the fowl Men call the ossifrage; when ev’ry soul Amaze invaded; even th’ old man admir’d, The youth’s hand took, and said: “O most desir’d, My hope says thy proof will no coward show, Nor one unskill’d in war, when Deities now So young attend thee, and become thy guides; Nor any of the heav’n-hous’d States besides, But Tritogenia’s self, the Seed of Jove, The great-in-prey, that did in honour move So much about thy father, amongst all The Grecian army. Fairest queen, let fall On me like favours! Give me good renown! Which, as on me, on my lov’d wife let down, And all my children. I will burn to thee An ox right bred, broad-headed, and yoke-free, To no man’s hand yet humbled. Him will I, His horns in gold hid, give thy Deity.” Thus pray’d he, and she heard; and home he led His sons, and all his heaps of kindered.
Who ent’ring his court royal, ev’ry one He marshall’d in his sev’ral seat and throne; And ev’ry one, so kindly come, he gave His sweet-wine cup; which none was let to have Before his ‘leventh year landed him from Troy; Which now the butleress had leave t’ employ, Who therefore pierc’d it, and did give it vent. Of this the old duke did a cup present To ev’ry guest; made his Maid many a pray’r That wears the shield fring’d with his nurse’s hair, And gave her sacrifice. With this rich wine And food suffic’d, sleep all eyes did decline, And all for home went; but his court alone Telemachus, divine Ulysses’ son, Must make his lodging, or not please his heart. A bed, all chequer’d with elaborate art, Within a portico that rung like brass, He brought his guest to; and his bedfere was Pisistratus, the martial guide of men, That liv’d, of all his sons, unwed till then. Himself lay in a by-room, far above, His bed made by his barren wife, his love.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.