So noble, who in wisdom all mankindExcels, and who hath sacrific’d so oft
To us whose dwelling is the boundless heav’n?
Earth-circling Neptune—He it is whose wrath
Pursues him ceaseless for the Cyclops’ sake
Polypheme, strongest of the giant race,
Whom of his eye Ulysses hath deprived.
For Him, Thoösa bore, Nymph of the sea 90
From Phorcys sprung, by Ocean’s mighty pow’r
Impregnated in caverns of the Deep.
E’er since that day, the Shaker of the shores,
Although he slay him not, yet devious drives
Ulysses from his native isle afar.
Yet come—in full assembly his return
Contrive we now, both means and prosp’rous end;
So Neptune shall his wrath remit, whose pow’r
In contest with the force of all the Gods
Exerted single, can but strive in vain. 100
To whom Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed.
Oh Jupiter! above all Kings enthroned!
If the Immortals ever-blest ordain
That wise Ulysses to his home return,
Dispatch we then Hermes the Argicide,
Our messenger, hence to Ogygia’s isle,
Who shall inform Calypso, nymph divine,
Of this our fixt resolve, that to his home
Ulysses, toil-enduring Chief, repair.
Myself will hence to Ithaca, meantime, 110
His son to animate, and with new force
Inspire, that (the Achaians all convened
In council,) he may, instant, bid depart
The suitors from his home, who, day by day,
His num’rous flocks and fatted herds consume.
And I will send him thence to Sparta forth,
And into sandy Pylus, there to hear
(If hear he may) some tidings of his Sire,
And to procure himself a glorious name.
This said, her golden sandals to her feet 120
She bound, ambrosial, which o’er all the earth
And o’er the moist flood waft her fleet as air,
Then, seizing her strong spear pointed with brass,
In length and bulk, and weight a matchless beam,
With which the Jove-born Goddess levels ranks
Of Heroes, against whom her anger burns,
From the Olympian summit down she flew,
And on the threshold of Ulysses’ hall
In Ithaca, and within his vestibule
Apparent stood; there, grasping her bright spear, 130
Mentes1 she seem’d, the hospitable Chief Of Taphos’ isle—she found the haughty throng The suitors; they before the palace gate With iv’ry cubes sported, on num’rous hides Reclined of oxen which themselves had slain. The heralds and the busy menials there Minister’d to them; these their mantling cups With water slaked; with bibulous sponges those Made clean the tables, set the banquet on, And portioned out to each his plenteous share. 140 Long ere the rest Telemachus himself Mark’d her, for sad amid them all he sat, Pourtraying in deep thought contemplative His noble Sire, and questioning if yet Perchance the Hero might return to chase From all his palace that imperious herd, To his own honour lord of his own home. Amid them musing thus, sudden he saw The Goddess, and sprang forth, for he abhorr’d To see a guest’s admittance long delay’d; 150 Approaching eager, her right hand he seized, The brazen spear took from her, and in words With welcome wing’d Minerva thus address’d. Stranger, all hail! to share our cordial love Thou com’st; the banquet finish’d, thou shalt next Inform me wherefore thou hast here arrived. So saying, toward the spacious hall he moved, Follow’d by Pallas, and, arriving soon Beneath the lofty roof, placed her bright spear Within a pillar’s cavity, long time 160 The armoury where many a spear had stood, Bright weapons of his own illustrious Sire. Then, leading her toward a footstool’d throne Magnificent, which first he overspread With linen, there he seated her, apart From that rude throng, and for himself disposed A throne of various colours at her side, Lest, stunn’d with clamour of the lawless band, The new-arrived should loth perchance to eat, And that more free he might the stranger’s ear 170 With questions of his absent Sire address, And now a maiden charg’d with golden ew’r, And with an argent laver, pouring first Pure water on their hands, supplied them, next, With a resplendent table, which the chaste Directress of the stores furnish’d with bread And dainties, remnants of the last regale. Then, in his turn, the sewer2 with sav’ry meats, Dish after dish, served them, of various kinds, And golden cups beside the chargers placed, 180 Which the attendant herald fill’d with wine. Ere long, in rush’d the suitors, and the thrones And couches occupied, on all whose hands The heralds pour’d pure water; then the maids Attended them with bread in baskets heap’d, And eager they assail’d the ready feast. At length, when neither thirst nor hunger more They felt unsatisfied, to new delights Their thoughts they turn’d, to song and sprightly dance, Enlivening sequel of the banquet’s joys. 190 An herald, then, to Phemius’ hand consign’d His beauteous lyre; he through constraint regaled The suitors with his song, and while the chords He struck in prelude to his pleasant strains, Telemachus his head inclining nigh To Pallas’ ear, lest others should his words Witness, the blue-eyed Goddess thus bespake. My inmate and my friend! far from my lips Be ev’ry word that might displease thine ear! The song—the harp—what can they less than charm 200 These wantons? who the bread unpurchased eat Of one whose bones on yonder continent Lie mould’ring, drench’d by all the show’rs of heaven, Or roll at random in the billowy deep. Ah! could they see him once to his own isle Restored, both gold and raiment they would wish Far less, and nimbleness of foot instead. But He, alas! hath by a wretched fate, Past question perish’d, and what news soe’er We hear of his return, kindles no hope 210 In us, convinced that he returns no more. But answer undissembling; tell me true; Who art thou? whence? where stands thy city? where Thy father’s mansion? In what kind of ship Cam’st thou? Why steer’d the mariners their course To Ithaca, and of what land are they? For that on foot thou found’st us not, is sure. This also tell me, hast thou now arrived New to our isle, or wast thou heretofore My father’s guest? Since many to our house 220 Resorted in those happier days, for he Drew pow’rful to himself the hearts of all. Then Pallas thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed. I will with all simplicity of truth Thy questions satisfy. Behold in me Mentes, the offspring of a Chief renown’d
