ARGUMENT.
THE FIGHT OF ULYSSES AND IRUS.
The beggar Irus insults Ulysses; the suitors promote the quarrel, in which Irus is worsted, and miserably handled. Penelope descends, and receives the presents of the suitors. The dialogue of Ulysses with Eurymachus.
While fix'd in thought the pensive hero sate, A mendicant approach'd the royal gate; A surly vagrant of the giant kind, The stain of manhood, of a coward mind: From feast to feast, insatiate to devour, He flew, attendant on the genial hour. Him on his mother's knees, when babe he lay, She named Arnaeus on his natal day: But Irus his associates call'd the boy, Practised the common messenger to fly; Irus, a name expressive of the employ.
From his own roof, with meditated blows, He strove to drive the man of mighty woes:
"Hence, dotard! hence, and timely speed thy way, Lest dragg'd in vengeance thou repent thy stay; See how with nods assent yon princely train! But honouring age, in mercy I refrain: In peace away! lest, if persuasions fail, This arm with blows more eloquent prevail." To whom, with stern regard: "O insolence, Indecently to rail without offence! What bounty gives without a rival share; I ask, what harms not thee, to breathe this air: Alike on alms we both precarious live: And canst thou envy when the great relieve? Know, from the bounteous heavens all riches flow, And what man gives, the gods by man bestow; Proud as thou art, henceforth no more be proud, Lest I imprint my vengeance in thy blood; Old as I am, should once my fury burn, How would'st thou fly, nor e'en in thought return!"
"Mere woman-glutton! (thus the churl replied;) A tongue so flippant, with a throat so wide! Why cease I gods! to dash those teeth away, Like some wild boar's, that, greedy of his prey, Uproots the bearded corn? Rise, try the fight, Gird well thy loins, approach, and feel my might: Sure of defeat, before the peers engage: Unequal fight, when youth contends with age!"
Thus in a wordy war their tongues display More fierce intents, preluding to the fray; Antinous hears, and in a jovial vein, Thus with loud laughter to the suitor train:
"This happy day in mirth, my friends, employ, And lo! the gods conspire to crown our joy; See ready for the fight, and hand to hand, Yon surly mendicants contentious stand: Why urge we not to blows!" Well pleased they spring Swift from their seats, and thickening form a ring.
To whom Antinous: "Lo! enrich'd with blood, A kid's well-fatted entrails (tasteful food) On glowing embers lie; on him bestow The choicest portion who subdues his foe; Grant him unrivall'd in these walls to stay, The sole attendant on the genial day."
The lords applaud: Ulysses then with art, And fears well-feign'd, disguised his dauntless heart.
"Worn as I am with age, decay'd with woe; Say, is it baseness to decline the foe? Hard conflict! when calamity and age With vigorous youth, unknown to cares, engage! Yet, fearful of disgrace, to try the day Imperious hunger bids, and I obey; But swear, impartial arbiters of right, Swear to stand neutral, while we cope in fight."
The peers assent: when straight his sacred head Telemachus upraised, and sternly said: "Stranger, if prompted to chastise the wrong Of this bold insolent, confide, be strong! The injurious Greek that dares attempt a blow, That instant makes Telemachus his foe; And these my friends shall guard the sacred ties Of hospitality, for they are wise."
Then, girding his strong loins, the king prepares To close in combat, and his body bares; Broad spread his shoulders, and his nervous thighs By just degrees, like well-turn'd columns, rise Ample his chest, his arms are round and long, And each strong joint Minerva knits more strong (Attendant on her chief): the suitor-crowd With wonder gaze, and gazing speak aloud: "Irus! alas! shall Irus be no more? Black fate impends, and this the avenging hour! Gods! how his nerves a matchless strength proclaim, Swell o'er his well-strong limbs, and brace his frame!"
Then pale with fears, and sickening at the sight; They dragg'd the unwilling Irus to the fight; From his blank visage fled the coward blood, And his flesh trembled as aghast he stood.
"O that such baseness should disgrace the light? O hide it, death, in everlasting night! (Exclaims Antinous;) can a vigorous foe Meanly decline to combat age and woe? But hear me wretch! if recreant in the fray That huge bulk yield this ill-contested day, Instant thou sail'st, to Eschetus resign'd; A tyrant, fiercest of the tyrant kind, Who casts thy mangled ears and nose a prey To hungry dogs, and lops the man away."
While with indignant scorn he sternly spoke, In every joint the trembling Irus shook. Now front to front each frowning champion stands, And poises high in air his adverse hands. The chief yet doubts, or to the shades below To fell the giant at one vengeful blow, Or save his life, and soon his life to save The king resolves, for mercy sways the brave That instant Irus his huge arm extends, Full on his shoulder the rude weight descends; The sage Ulysses, fearful to disclose The hero latent in the man of woes, Check'd half his might; yet rising to the stroke, His jawbone dash'd, the crashing jawbone broke: Down dropp'd he stupid from the stunning wound; His feet extended quivering, beat the ground; His mouth and nostrils spout a purple flood; His teeth, all shatter'd, rush inmix'd with blood.
The peers transported, as outstretch'd he lies, With bursts of laughter rend the vaulted skies; Then dragg'd along, all bleeding from the wound, His length of carcase trailing prints the ground: Raised on his feet, again he reels, he falls, Till propp'd, reclining on the palace walls: Then to his hand a staff the victor gave, And thus with just reproach address'd the slave: "There terrible, affright with dogs, and reign A dreaded tyrant o'er the bestial train! But mercy to the poor and stranger show, Lest Heaven in vengeance send some mightier woe."
Scornful he spoke, and o'er his shoulder flung The broad-patch'd scrip in tatters hung Ill join'd, and knotted to a twisted thong. Then, turning short, disdain'd a further stay; But to the palace measured back the way. There, as he rested gathering in a ring, The peers with smiles address'd their unknown king: "Stranger, may Jove and all the aerial powers With every blessing crown thy happy hours! Our freedom to thy prowess'd arm we owe From bold intrusion of thy coward foe: Instant the flying sail the slave shall wing To Eschetus, the monster of a king."
While pleased he hears, Antinous bears the food, A kid's well-fatted entrails, rich with blood; The bread from canisters of shining mould Amphinomus; and wines that laugh in gold: "And oh! (he mildly cries) may Heaven display A beam of glory o'er thy future day! Alas, the brave too oft is doom'd to bear The gripes of poverty and stings of care."
To whom with thought mature the king replies: "The tongue speaks wisely, when the soul is wise: Such was thy father! in imperial state, Great without vice, that oft attends the great; Nor from the sire art thou, the son, declin'd; Then hear my words, and grace them in thy mind! Of all that breathes, or grovelling creeps on earth, Most man in vain! calamitous by birth: To-day, with power elate, in strength he blooms; The haughty creature on that power presumes: Anon from Heaven a sad reverse he feels: Untaught to bear, 'gainst Heaven the wretch rebels. For man is changeful, as his bliss or woe! Too high when prosperous, when distress'd too low. There was a day, when with the scornful great I swell'd in pomp and arrogance of state; Proud of the power that to high birth belongs; And used that power to justify my wrongs. Then let not man be proud; but firm of mind, Bear the best humbly; and the worst resign'd; Be dumb when Heaven afflicts! unlike yon train Of haughty spoilers, insolently vain; Who make their queen and all her wealth a prey: But vengeance and Ulysses wing their way. O may'st thou, favour'd by some guardian power, Far, far be distant in that deathful hour! For sure I am, if stern Ulysses breathe, These lawless riots end in blood and death."
Then to the gods the rosy juice he pours, And the drain'd goblet to the chief restores. Stung to the soul, o'ercast with holy dread, He shook the graceful honours of his head; His boding mind the future woe forestalls, In vain! by great Telemachus he falls, For Pallas seals his doom: all sad he turns To join the peers; resumes his throne, and mourns.
Meanwhile Minerva with instinctive fires Thy soul, Penelope, from Heaven inspires; With flattering hopes the suitors to betray, And seem to meet, yet fly, the bridal day: Thy husband's wonder, and thy son's to raise; And crown the mother and the wife with praise. Then, while the streaming sorrow dims her eyes, Thus, with a transient smile, the matron cries:
"Eurynome! to go where riot reigns I feel an impulse, though my soul disdains; To my loved son the snares of death to show, And in the traitor friend, unmask the foe; Who, smooth of tongue, in purpose insincere, Hides fraud in smiles, while death is ambush'd there."
"Go, warn thy son, nor be the warning vain (Replied the sagest of the royal train); But bathed, anointed, and adorn'd, descend; Powerful of charms, bid every grace attend; The tide of flowing tears awhile suppress; Tears but indulge the sorrow, not repress. Some joy remains: to thee a son is given, Such as, in fondness, parents ask of Heaven."