Sail with his ruin for his father saft.” This all applauded, and gave charge to do,
Rose, and to greet Ulysses’ house did go.
But long time past not, ere Penelope
Had notice of their far-fetch’d treachery.
Medon the herald told her, who had heard
Without the hall how they within conferr’d,
And hasted straight to tell it to the queen,
Who, from the entry having Medon seen,
Prevents him thus: “Now herald, what affair
Intend the famous Wooers, in your repair?
To tell Ulysses’ maids that they must cease
From doing our work, and their banquets dress?
I would to heav’n, that, leaving wooing me,
Nor ever troubling other company,
Here might the last feast be, and most extreme,
That ever any shall address for them.
They never meet but to consent in spoil,
And reap the free fruits of another’s toil.
O did they never, when they children were,
What to their fathers was Ulysses, hear?
Who never did ’gainst anyone proceed
With unjust usage, or in word or deed?
’Tis yet with other kings another right,
One to pursue with love, another spite;
He still yet just, nor would, though might, devour,
Nor to the worst did ever taste of pow’r.
But their unrul’d acts show their minds’ estate.
Good turns receiv’d once, thanks grow out of date.”
Medon, the learn’d in wisdom, answer’d her:
“I wish, O queen, that their ingratitudes were
Their worst ill towards you; but worse by far,
And much more deadly, their endeavours are,
Which Jove will fail them in. Telemachus
Their purpose is, as he returns to us,
To give their sharp steels in a cruel death;
Who now is gone to learn, if fame can breathe
News of his sire, and will the Pylian shore,
And sacred Sparta, in his search explore.”
This news dissolv’d to her both knees and heart,
Long silence held her ere one word would part,
Her eyes stood full of tears, her small soft voice
All late use lost; that yet at last had choice
Of wonted words, which briefly thus she us’d:
“Why left my son his mother? Why refus’d
His wit the solid shore, to try the seas,
And put in ships the trust of his distress,
That are at sea to men unbridled horse,
And run, past rule, their far-engagéd course,
Amidst a moisture past all mean unstaid?
No need compell’d this. Did he it, afraid
To live and leave posterity his name?”
“I know not,” he replied, “if th’ humour came
From current of his own instinct, or flow’d
From others’ instigations; but he vow’d
Attempt to Pylos, or to see descried
His sire’s return, or know what death he died.”
This said, he took him to Ulysses’ house
After the Wooers; the Ulyssean spouse,
Run through with woes, let Torture seize her mind,
Nor in her choice of state chairs stood inclin’d
To take her seat, but th’ abject threshold chose
Of her fair chamber for her loath’d repose,
And mourn’d most wretch-like. Round about her fell
Her handmaids, join’d in a continuate yell.
From ev’ry corner of the palace, all
Of all degrees tun’d to her comfort’s fall
Their own dejections; to whom her complaint
She thus enforc’d: “The Gods, beyond constraint
Of any measure, urge these tears on me;
Nor was there ever dame of my degree
So past degree griev’d. First, a lord so good,
That had such hardy spirits in his blood,
That all the virtues was adorn’d withall,
That all the Greeks did their superior call,
To part with thus, and lose! And now a son,
So worthily belov’d, a course to run
Beyond my knowledge; whom rude tempests have
Made far from home his most inglorious grave!
Unhappy wenches, that no one of all
(Though in the reach of ev’ry one must fall
His taking ship) sustain’d the careful mind,
To call me from my bed, who this design’d
And most vow’d course in him had either stay’d,
