Arising, fixt he stood, his native soil

  Contemplating, till with expanded palms

  Both thighs he smote, and, plaintive, thus began.

  Ah me! what mortal race inhabits here?

  Rude are they, contumacious and unjust,

  Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods? 240

  Where now shall I secrete these num'rous stores?

  Where wander I, myself? I would that still

  Phæacians own'd them, and I had arrived

  In the dominions of some other King

  Magnanimous, who would have entertain'd

  And sent me to my native home secure!

  Now, neither know I where to place my wealth,

  Nor can I leave it here, lest it become

  Another's prey. Alas! Phæacia's Chiefs

  Not altogether wise I deem or just, 250

  Who have misplaced me in another land,

  Promis'd to bear me to the pleasant shores

  Of Ithaca, but have not so perform'd.

  Jove, guardian of the suppliant's rights, who all

  Transgressors marks, and punishes all wrong,

  Avenge me on the treach'rous race!--but hold--

  I will revise my stores, so shall I know

  If they have left me here of aught despoiled.

  So saying, he number'd carefully the gold,

  The vases, tripods bright, and tissued robes, 260

  But nothing miss'd of all. Then he bewail'd

  His native isle, with pensive steps and slow

  Pacing the border of the billowy flood,

  Forlorn; but while he wept, Pallas approach'd,

  In form a shepherd stripling, girlish fair

  In feature, such as are the sons of Kings;

  A sumptuous mantle o'er his shoulders hung

  Twice-folded, sandals his nice feet upbore,

  And a smooth javelin glitter'd in his hand.

  Ulysses, joyful at the sight, his steps 270

  Turn'd brisk toward her, whom he thus address'd.

  Sweet youth! since thee, of all mankind, I first

  Encounter in this land unknown, all hail!

  Come not with purposes of harm to me!

  These save, and save me also. I prefer

  To thee, as to some God, my pray'r, and clasp

  Thy knees a suppliant. Say, and tell me true,

  What land? what people? who inhabit here?

  Is this some isle delightful, or a shore

  Of fruitful main-land sloping to the sea? 280

  Then Pallas, thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.

  Stranger! thou sure art simple, or hast dwelt

  Far distant hence, if of this land thou ask.

  It is not, trust me, of so little note,

  But known to many, both to those who dwell

  Toward the sun-rise, and to others placed

  Behind it, distant in the dusky West.

  Rugged it is, not yielding level course

  To the swift steed, and yet no barren spot,

  However small, but rich in wheat and wine; 290

  Nor wants it rain or fertilising dew,

  But pasture green to goats and beeves affords,

  Trees of all kinds, and fountains never dry.

  Ithaca therefore, stranger, is a name

  Known ev'n at Troy, a city, by report,

  At no small distance from Achaia's shore.

  The Goddess ceased; then, toil-enduring Chief

  Ulysses, happy in his native land,

  (So taught by Pallas, progeny of Jove)

  In accents wing'd her answ'ring, utter'd prompt 300

  Not truth, but figments to truth opposite,

  For guile, in him, stood never at a pause.

  O'er yonder flood, even in spacious Crete

  I heard of Ithaca, where now, it seems,

  I have, myself, with these my stores arrived;

  Not richer stores than, flying thence, I left

  To my own children; for from Crete I fled

  For slaughter of Orsilochus the swift,

  Son of Idomeneus, whom none in speed

  Could equal throughout all that spacious isle. 310

  His purpose was to plunder me of all

  My Trojan spoils, which to obtain, much woe

  I had in battle and by storms endured,

  For that I would not gratify his Sire,

  Fighting beside him in the fields of Troy,

  But led a diff'rent band. Him from the field

  Returning homeward, with my brazen spear

  I smote, in ambush waiting his return

  At the road-side, with a confed'rate friend.

  Unwonted darkness over all the heav'ns 320

  That night prevailed, nor any eye of man

  Observed us, but, unseen, I slew the youth.

  No sooner, then, with my sharp spear of life

  I had bereft him, than I sought a ship

  Mann'd by renown'd Phæacians, whom with gifts

  Part of my spoils, and by requests, I won.

  I bade them land me on the Pylian shore,

  Or in fair Elis by th' Epeans ruled,

  But they, reluctant, were by violent winds

  Driv'n devious thence, for fraud they purposed none. 330

  Thus through constraint we here arrived by night,

  And with much difficulty push'd the ship

  Into safe harbour, nor was mention made

  Of food by any, though all needed food,

  But, disembark'd in haste, on shore we lay.

  I, weary, slept profound, and they my goods

  Forth heaving from the bark, beside me placed

  The treasures on the sea-beach where I slept,

  Then, reimbarking, to the populous coast

  Steer'd of Sidonia, and me left forlorn. 340

  He ceased; then smiled Minerva azure-eyed

  And stroaked his cheek, in form a woman now,

  Beauteous, majestic, in all elegant arts

  Accomplish'd, and with accents wing'd replied.

  Who passes thee in artifice well-framed

  And in imposture various, need shall find

  Of all his policy, although a God.

  Canst thou not cease, inventive as thou art

  And subtle, from the wiles which thou hast lov'd

  Since thou wast infant, and from tricks of speech 350

  Delusive, even in thy native land?

  But come, dismiss we these ingenious shifts

  From our discourse, in which we both excel;

  For thou of all men in expedients most

  Abound'st and eloquence, and I, throughout

  All heav'n have praise for wisdom and for art.

  And know'st thou not thine Athenæan aid,

  Pallas, Jove's daughter, who in all thy toils

  Assist thee and defend? I gave thee pow'r

  T' engage the hearts of all Phæacia's sons, 360

  And here arrive ev'n now, counsels to frame

  Discrete with thee, and to conceal the stores

  Giv'n to thee by the rich Phæacian Chiefs

  On my suggestion, at thy going thence.

  I will inform thee also what distress

  And hardship under thy own palace-roof

  Thou must endure; which, since constraint enjoins,

  Bear patiently, and neither man apprize

  Nor woman that thou hast arrived forlorn

  And vagabond, but silent undergo 370

  What wrongs soever from the hands of men.

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  O Goddess! thou art able to elude,

  Wherever met, the keenest eye of man,

  For thou all shapes assum'st; yet this I know

  Certainly, that I ever found thee kind,

  Long as Achaia's Heroes fought at Troy;

  But when (the lofty tow'rs of Priam laid

  In dust) we re-embark'd, and by the will

  Of heav'n Achaia's fleet was scatter'd wide, 380

  Thenceforth, O daughter wise of Jove, I thee

  Saw not, nor thy appearance in my ship

  Once mark'd, to rid me of my num'rous woes,

  But always bearing in my breast a heart

  With anguish riv'n, I roam'd, till by the Gods

  Relieved at length, and till with gracious words

  Thyself didst in Phæacia's opulent land

  Confirm my courage, and becam'st my guide.

  But I adjure thee in thy father's name--

  O tell me truly, (for I cannot hope 390

  That I have reach'd fair Ithaca; I tread

  Some other soil, and thou affirm'st it mine

  To mock me merely, and deceive) oh say--

  Am I in Ithaca? in truth, at home?

  Thus then Minerva the cærulean-eyed.

  Such caution in thy breast always prevails

  Distrustful; but I know thee eloquent,

  With wisdom and with ready thought endued,

  And cannot leave thee, therefore, thus distress'd

  For what man, save Ulysses, new-return'd 400

  After long wand'rings, would not pant to see

  At once his home, his children, and his wife?

  But thou preferr'st neither to know nor ask

  Concerning them, till some experience first

  Thou make of her whose wasted youth is spent

  In barren solitude, and who in tears

  Ceaseless her nights and woeful days consumes.

  I ne'er was ignorant, but well foreknew

  That not till after loss of all thy friends

  Thou should'st return; but loth I was to oppose 410

  Neptune, my father's brother, sore incensed

  For his son's sake deprived of sight by thee.

  But, I will give thee proof--come now--survey

  These marks of Ithaca, and be convinced.

  This is the port of Phorcys, sea-born sage;

  That, the huge olive at the haven's head;

  Fast by it, thou behold'st the pleasant cove

  Umbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named

  The Naiads; this the broad-arch'd cavern is

  Where thou wast wont to offer to the nymphs 420

  Many a whole hecatomb; and yonder stands

  The mountain Neritus with forests cloath'd.

  So saying, the Goddess scatter'd from before

  His eyes all darkness, and he knew the land.

  Then felt Ulysses, Hero toil-inured,

  Transport unutterable, seeing plain

  Once more his native isle. He kiss'd the glebe,

  And with uplifted hands the nymphs ador'd.

  Nymphs, Naiads, Jove's own daughters! I despair'd

  To see you more, whom yet with happy vows 430

  I now can hail again. Gifts, as of old,

  We will hereafter at your shrines present,

  If Jove-born Pallas, huntress of the spoils,

  Grant life to me, and manhood to my son.

  Then Pallas, blue-eyed progeny of Jove.

  Take courage; trouble not thy mind with thoughts

  Now needless. Haste--delay not--far within

  This hallow'd cave's recess place we at once

  Thy precious stores, that they may thine remain,

  Then muse together on thy wisest course. 440

  So saying, the Goddess enter'd deep the cave

  Caliginous, and its secret nooks explored

  From side to side; meantime, Ulysses brought

  All his stores into it, the gold, the brass,

  And robes magnificent, his gifts received

  From the Phæacians; safe he lodg'd them all,

  And Pallas, daughter of Jove Ægis-arm'd,

  Closed fast, herself, the cavern with a stone.

  Then, on the consecrated olive's root

  Both seated, they in consultation plann'd 450

  The deaths of those injurious suitors proud,

  And Pallas, blue-eyed Goddess, thus began.

  Laertes' noble son, Ulysses! think

  By what means likeliest thou shalt assail

  Those shameless suitors, who have now controuled

  Three years thy family, thy matchless wife

  With language amorous and with spousal gifts

  Urging importunate; but she, with tears

  Watching thy wish'd return, hope gives to all

  By messages of promise sent to each, 460

  Framing far other purposes the while.

  Then answer thus Ulysses wise return'd.

  Ah, Agamemnon's miserable fate

  Had surely met me in my own abode,

  But for thy gracious warning, pow'r divine!

  Come then--Devise the means; teach me, thyself,

  The way to vengeance, and my soul inspire

  With daring fortitude, as when we loos'd

  Her radiant frontlet from the brows of Troy.

  Would'st thou with equal zeal, O Pallas! aid 470

  Thy servant here, I would encounter thrice

  An hundred enemies, let me but perceive

  Thy dread divinity my prompt ally.

  Him answer'd then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

  And such I will be; not unmark'd by me,

  (Let once our time of enterprize arrive)

  Shalt thou assail them. Many, as I judge,

  Of those proud suitors who devour thy wealth

  Shall leave their brains, then, on thy palace floor.

  But come. Behold! I will disguise thee so 480

  That none shall know thee! I will parch the skin

  On thy fair body; I will cause thee shed

  Thy wavy locks; I will enfold thee round

  In such a kirtle as the eyes of all

  Shall loath to look on; and I will deform

  With blurring rheums thy eyes, so vivid erst;

  So shall the suitors deem thee, and thy wife,

  And thy own son whom thou didst leave at home,

  Some sordid wretch obscure. But seek thou first

  Thy swine-herd's mansion; he, alike, intends 490

  Thy good, and loves, affectionate, thy son

  And thy Penelope; thou shalt find the swain

  Tending his herd; they feed beneath the rock

  Corax, at side of Arethusa's fount,

  On acorns dieted, nutritious food

  To them, and drinking of the limpid stream.

  There waiting, question him of thy concerns,

  While I from Sparta praised for women fair

  Call home thy son Telemachus, a guest

  With Menelaus now, whom to consult 500

  In spacious Lacedæmon he is gone,

  Anxious to learn if yet his father lives.

  To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

  And why, alas! all-knowing as thou art,

  Him left'st thou ignorant? was it that he,

  He also, wand'ring wide the barren Deep,

  Might suffer woe, while these devour his wealth?

  Him answer'd then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

  Grieve thou not much for him. I sent him forth

  Myself, that there arrived, he might acquire 510

  Honour and fame. No suff'rings finds he there,

  But in Atrides' palace safe resides,

  Enjoying all abundance. Him, in truth,

  The suitors watch close ambush'd on the Deep,

  Intent to slay him ere he reach his home,

  But shall not as I judge, till of themselves

  The earth hide some who make thee, now, a prey.

  So saying, the Goddess touch'd him with a wand.

  At once o'er all his agile limbs she parch'd

  The polish'd skin; she wither'd to the root 520

  His wavy locks; and cloath'd him with the hide

  Deform'd of wrinkled age; she charged with rheums

  His eyes before so vivid, and a cloak

  And kirtle gave him, tatter'd, both, and foul,

  And smutch'd with smoak; then, casting over all

  An huge old deer-skin bald, with a long staff

  She furnish'd him, and with a wallet patch'd

  On all sides, dangling by a twisted thong.

  Thus all their plan adjusted, diff'rent ways

  They took, and she, seeking Ulysses' son, 530

  To Lacedæmon's spacious realm repair'd.

  FOOTNOTES:

  Ἱερον μενος Αλκινοοιο.

  Homer dates all the fictions of Ulysses from Crete, as if he meant

  to pass a similar censure on the Cretans to that quoted by St.

  Paul--κρητες αει ψευσαι.

  BOOK XIV

  ARGUMENT

  Ulysses arriving at the house of Eumæus, is hospitably entertained, and

  spends the night there.

  Leaving the haven-side, he turn'd his steps

  Into a rugged path, which over hills

  Mantled with trees led him to the abode

  By Pallas mention'd of his noble friend

  The swine-herd, who of all Ulysses' train

  Watch'd with most diligence his rural stores.

  Him sitting in the vestibule he found

  Of his own airy lodge commodious, built

  Amidst a level lawn. That structure neat

  Eumæus, in the absence of his Lord, 10

  Had raised, himself, with stones from quarries hewn,

  Unaided by Laertes or the Queen.

  With tangled thorns he fenced it safe around,

  And with contiguous stakes riv'n from the trunks

  Of solid oak black-grain'd hemm'd it without.

  Twelve penns he made within, all side by side,

  Lairs for his swine, and fast-immured in each

  Lay fifty pregnant females on the floor.

  The males all slept without, less num'rous far,

  Thinn'd by the princely wooers at their feasts 20

  Continual, for to them he ever sent

  The fattest of his saginated charge.

  Three hundred, still, and sixty brawns remained.

  Four mastiffs in adjoining kennels lay,

  Resembling wild-beasts nourish'd at the board

  Of the illustrious steward of the styes.

  Himself sat fitting sandals to his feet,

  Carved from a stain'd ox-hide. Four hinds he kept,

  Now busied here and there; three in the penns

  Were occupied; meantime, the fourth had sought 30

  The city, whither, for the suitors' use,

  With no good will, but by constraint, he drove

  A boar, that, sacrificing to the Gods,

  Th' imperious guests might on his flesh regale.

  Soon as those clamorous watch-dogs the approach

  Saw of Ulysses, baying loud, they ran

  Toward him; he, as ever, well-advised,