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a people of another tongue 230 Athwart the gloomy flood, in quest of brass For which I barter steel, ploughing the waves To Temesa. My ship beneath the woods Of Neïus, at yonder field that skirts Your city, in the haven Rhethrus rides. We are hereditary guests; our Sires Were friends long since; as, when thou seest him next, The Hero old Laertes will avouch, Of whom, I learn, that he frequents no more The city now, but in sequester’d scenes 240 Dwells sorrowful, and by an antient dame With food and drink supplied oft as he feels Refreshment needful to him, while he creeps Between the rows of his luxuriant vines. But I have come drawn hither by report, Which spake thy Sire arrived, though still it seems The adverse Gods his homeward course retard. For not yet breathless lies the noble Chief, But in some island of the boundless flood Resides a prisoner, by barbarous force 250 Of some rude race detained reluctant there. And I will now foreshow thee what the Gods Teach me, and what, though neither augur skill’d Nor prophet, I yet trust shall come to pass. He shall not, henceforth, live an exile long From his own shores, no, not although in bands Of iron held, but will ere long contrive His own return; for in expedients, framed With wond’rous ingenuity, he abounds. But tell me true; art thou, in stature such, 260 Son of himself Ulysses? for thy face And eyes bright-sparkling, strongly indicate Ulysses in thee. Frequent have we both Conversed together thus, thy Sire and I, Ere yet he went to Troy, the mark to which So many Princes of Achaia steer’d. Him since I saw not, nor Ulysses me. To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied. Stranger! I tell thee true; my mother’s voice Affirms me his, but since no mortal knows 270 His derivation, I affirm it not. Would I had been son of some happier Sire, Ordain’d in calm possession of his own To reach the verge of life. But now, report Proclaims me his, whom I of all mankind Unhappiest deem.—Thy question is resolved. Then answer thus Pallas blue-eyed return’d. From no ignoble race, in future days, The Gods shall prove thee sprung, whom so endow’d With ev’ry grace Penelope hath borne. 280 But tell me true. What festival is this? This throng—whence are they? wherefore hast thou need Of such a multitude? Behold I here A banquet, or a nuptial? for these Meet not by contribution3 to regale, With such brutality and din they hold Their riotous banquet! a wise man and good Arriving, now, among them, at the sight Of such enormities would much be wroth. To whom replied Telemachus discrete. 290 Since, stranger! thou hast ask’d, learn also this. While yet Ulysses, with his people dwelt, His presence warranted the hope that here Virtue should dwell and opulence; but heav’n Hath cast for us, at length, a diff’rent lot, And he is lost, as never man before. For I should less lament even his death, Had he among his friends at Ilium fall’n, Or in the arms of his companions died, Troy’s siege accomplish’d. Then his tomb the Greeks 300 Of ev’ry tribe had built, and for his son, He had immortal glory atchieved; but now, By harpies torn inglorious, beyond reach Of eye or ear he lies; and hath to me Grief only, and unceasing sighs bequeath’d. Nor mourn I for his sake alone; the Gods Have plann’d for me still many a woe beside; For all the rulers of the neighbour isles, Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown’d Zacynthus, others also, rulers here 310 In craggy Ithaca, my mother seek In marriage, and my household stores consume. But neither she those nuptial rites abhorr’d, Refuses absolute, nor yet consents To end them; they my patrimony waste Meantime, and will not long spare even me. To whom, with deep commiseration pang’d, Pallas replied. Alas! great need hast thou Of thy long absent father to avenge These num’rous wrongs; for could he now appear 320 There, at yon portal, arm’d with helmet, shield, And grasping his two spears, such as when first I saw him drinking joyous at our board, From Ilus son of Mermeris, who dwelt In distant Ephyre, just then return’d, (For thither also had Ulysses gone In his swift bark, seeking some pois’nous drug Wherewith to taint his brazen arrows keen, Which drug through fear of the eternal Gods Ilus refused him, and my father free 330 Gave to him, for he loved him past belief) Could now, Ulysses, clad in arms as then, Mix with these suitors, short his date of life To each, and bitter should his nuptials prove. But these events, whether he shall return To take just vengeance under his own roof, Or whether not, lie all in the Gods lap. Meantime I counsel thee, thyself to think By what means likeliest thou shalt expel These from thy doors. Now mark me: close attend. 340 To-morrow, summoning the Grecian Chiefs To council, speak to them, and call the Gods To witness that solemnity. Bid go The suitors hence, each to his own abode. Thy mother—if her purpose be resolved On marriage, let her to the house return Of her own potent father, who, himself, Shall furnish forth her matrimonial rites, And ample dow’r, such as it well becomes A darling daughter to receive, bestow. 350 But hear me now; thyself I thus advise. The prime of all thy ships preparing, mann’d With twenty rowers, voyage hence to seek Intelligence of thy long-absent Sire. Some mortal may inform thee, or a word,4 Perchance, by Jove directed (safest source Of notice to mankind) may reach thine ear. First voyaging to Pylus, there enquire Of noble Nestor; thence to Sparta tend, To question Menelaus amber-hair’d, 360 Latest arrived of all the host of Greece. There should’st thou learn that still thy father lives, And hope of his return, although Distress’d, thou wilt be patient yet a year. But should’st thou there hear tidings that he breathes No longer, to thy native isle return’d, First heap his tomb; then with such pomp perform His funeral rites as his great name demands, And make thy mother’s spousals, next, thy care. These duties satisfied, delib’rate last 370 Whether thou shalt these troublers of thy house By stratagem, or by assault, destroy. For thou art now no child, nor longer may’st Sport like one. Hast thou not the proud report Heard, how Orestes hath renown acquired With all mankind, his father’s murtherer Ægisthus slaying, the deceiver base Who slaughter’d Agamemnon? Oh my friend! (For with delight thy vig’rous growth I view, And just proportion) be thou also bold, 380 And merit praise from ages yet to come. But I will to my vessel now repair, And to my mariners, whom, absent long, I may perchance have troubled. Weigh thou well My counsel; let not my advice be lost. To whom Telemachus discrete replied. Stranger! thy words bespeak thee much my friend, Who, as a father teaches his own son, Hast taught me, and I never will forget. But, though in haste thy voyage to pursue, 390 Yet stay, that in the bath refreshing first Thy limbs now weary, thou may’st sprightlier seek Thy gallant bark, charged with some noble gift Of finish’d workmanship, which thou shalt keep As my memorial ever; such a boon As men confer on guests whom much they love. Then Pallas thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed. Retard me not, for go I must; the gift Which liberal thou desirest to bestow, Give me at my return, that I may bear 400 The treasure home; and, in exchange, thyself Expect some gift equivalent from me. She spake, and as with eagle-wings upborne, Vanish’d incontinent, but him inspired With daring fortitude, and on his heart Dearer remembrance of his Sire impress’d Than ever. Conscious of the wond’rous change, Amazed he stood, and, in his secret thought Revolving all, believed his guest a God. The youthful Hero to the suitors then 410 Repair’d; they silent, listen’d to the song Of the illustrious Bard: he the return Deplorable of the Achaian host From Ilium by command of Pallas, sang. Penelope, Icarius’ daughter, mark’d Meantime the song celestial, where she sat In the superior palace; down she came, By all the num’rous steps of her abode; Not sole, for two fair handmaids follow’d her. She then, divinest of her sex, arrived 420 In presence of that lawless throng, beneath The portal of her stately mansion stood, Between her maidens, with her lucid veil Her lovely features mantling. There, profuse She wept, and thus the sacred bard bespake. Phemius! for many a sorrow-soothing strain Thou know’st beside, such as exploits record Of Gods and men, the poet’s frequent theme; Give them of those a song, and let themselves Their wine drink noiseless; but this mournful strain 430 Break off, unfriendly to my bosom’s peace, And which of all hearts nearest touches mine, With such regret my dearest Lord I mourn, Rememb’ring still an husband praised from side To side, and in the very heart of Greece. Then answer thus Telemachus return’d. My mother! wherefore should it give thee pain If the delightful bard that theme pursue To which he feels his mind impell’d? the bard Blame not, but rather Jove, who, as he wills, 440 Materials for poetic art supplies. No fault is his, if the disastrous fate He sing of the Achaians, for the song Wins ever from the hearers most applause That has been least in use. Of all who fought At Troy, Ulysses hath not lost, alone, His day of glad return; but many a Chief Hath perish’d also. Seek thou then again Thy own apartment, spindle ply and loom, And task thy maidens; management belongs
