"Ah me! forbear!" returns the queen, "forbear, Oh! talk not, talk not of vain beauty's care; No more I bathe, since he no longer sees Those charms, for whom alone I wish to please. The day that bore Ulysses from this coast Blasted the little bloom these cheeks could boast. But instant bid Autonoe descend, Instant Hippodame our steps attend; Ill suits it female virtue, to be seen Alone, indecent, in the walks of men."
Then while Eurynome the mandate bears, From heaven Minerva shoots with guardian cares; O'er all her senses, as the couch she press'd, She pours, a pleasing, deep and death-like rest, With every beauty every feature arms, Bids her cheeks glow, and lights up all her charms; In her love-darting eyes awakes the fires (Immortal gifts! to kindle soft desires); From limb to limb an air majestic sheds, And the pure ivory o'er her bosom spreads. Such Venus shines, when with a measured bound She smoothly gliding swims the harmonious round, When with the Graces in the dance she moves, And fires the gazing gods with ardent loves.
Then to the skies her flight Minerva bends, And to the queen the damsel train descends; Waked at their steps, her flowing eyes unclose; The tears she wipes, and thus renews her woes: "Howe'er 'tis well that sleep awhile can free, With soft forgetfulness a wretch like me; Oh! were it given to yield this transient breath, Send, O Diana! send the sleep of death! Why must I waste a tedious life in tears, Nor bury in the silent grave my cares? O my Ulysses! ever honour'd name! For thee I mourn till death dissolves my frame."
Thus wailing, slow and sadly she descends, On either band a damsel train attends: Full where the dome its shining valves expands, Radiant before the gazing peers she stands; A veil translucent o'er her brow display'd, Her beauty seems, and only seems, to shade: Sudden she lightens in their dazzled eyes, And sudden flames in every bosom rise; They send their eager souls with every look. Till silence thus the imperial matron broke:
"O why! my son, why now no more appears That warmth of soul that urged thy younger years? Thy riper days no growing worth impart, A man in stature, still a boy in heart! Thy well-knit frame unprofitably strong, Speaks thee a hero, from a hero sprung: But the just gods in vain those gifts bestow, O wise alone in form, and grave in show! Heavens! could a stranger feel oppression's hand Beneath thy roof, and couldst thou tamely stand! If thou the stranger's righteous cause decline His is the sufferance, but the shame is thine."
To whom, with filial awe, the prince returns: "That generous soul with just resentment burns; Yet, taught by time, my heart has learn'd to glow For others' good, and melt at others' woe; But, impotent those riots to repel, I bear their outrage, though my soul rebel; Helpless amid the snares of death I tread, And numbers leagued in impious union dread; But now no crime is theirs: this wrong proceeds From Irus, and the guilty Irus bleeds. Oh would to Jove! or her whose arms display The shield of Jove, or him who rules the day! That yon proud suitors, who licentious tread These courts, within these courts like Irus bled: Whose loose head tottering, as with wine oppress'd, Obliquely drops, and nodding knocks his breast; Powerless to move, his staggering feet deny The coward wretch the privilege to fly."
Then to the queen Eurymachus replies: "O justly loved, and not more fair than wise! Should Greece through all her hundred states survey Thy finish'd charms, all Greece would own thy sway In rival crowds contest the glorious prize. Dispeopling realms to gaze upon thy eyes: O woman! loveliest of the lovely kind, In body perfect, and complete in mind."
"Ah me! (returns the queen) when from this shore Ulysses sail'd, then beauty was no more! The gods decreed these eyes no more should keep Their wonted grace, but only serve to weep. Should he return, whate'er my beauties prove, My virtues last; my brightest charm is love. Now, grief, thou all art mine! the gods o'ercast My soul with woes, that long, ah long must last! Too faithfully my heart retains the day That sadly tore my royal lord away: He grasp'd my hand, and, 'O, my spouse! I leave Thy arms (he cried), perhaps to find a grave: Fame speaks the Trojans bold; they boast the skill To give the feather'd arrow wings to kill, To dart the spear, and guide the rushing car With dreadful inroad through the walks of war. My sentence is gone forth, and 'tis decreed Perhaps by righteous Heaven that I must bleed! My father, mother, all I trust to three; To them, to them, transfer the love of me: But, when my son grows man, the royal sway Resign, and happy be thy bridal day!' Such were his words; and Hymen now prepares To light his torch, and give me up to cares; The afflictive hand of wrathful Jove to bear: A wretch the most complete that breathes the air! Fall'n e'en below the rights to woman due! Careless to please, with insolence ye woo! The generous lovers, studious to succeed, Bid their whole herds and flocks in banquets bleed; By precious gifts the vow sincere display: You, only you, make her ye love your prey."
Well-pleased Ulysses hears his queen deceive The suitor-train, and raise a thirst to give: False hopes she kindles, but those hopes betray, And promise, yet elude, the bridal day.
While yet she speaks, the gay Antinous cries: "Offspring of kings, and more than woman wise! 'Tis right; 'tis man's prerogative to give, And custom bids thee without shame receive; Yet never, never, from thy dome we move, Till Hymen lights the torch of spousal love."
The peers despatch'd their heralds to convey The gifts of love; with speed they take the way. A robe Antinous gives of shining dyes, The varying hues in gay confusion rise Rich from the artist's hand! Twelve clasps of gold Close to the lessening waist the vest infold! Down from the swelling loins the vest unbound Floats in bright waves redundant o'er the ground, A bracelet rich with gold, with amber gay, That shot effulgence like the solar ray, Eurymachus presents: and ear-rings bright, With triple stars, that casts a trembling light. Pisander bears a necklace wrought with art: And every peer, expressive of his heart, A gift bestows: this done, the queen ascends, And slow behind her damsel train attends.
Then to the dance they form the vocal strain, Till Hesperus leads forth the starry train; And now he raises, as the daylight fades, His golden circlet in the deepening shades: Three vases heap'd with copious fires display O'er all the palace a fictitious day; From space to space the torch wide-beaming burns, And sprightly damsels trim the rays by turns.
To whom the king: "Ill suits your sex to stay Alone with men! ye modest maids, away! Go, with the queen; the spindle guide; or cull (The partners of her cares) the silver wool; Be it my task the torches to supply E'en till the morning lamp adorns the sky; E'en till the morning, with unwearied care, Sleepless I watch; for I have learn'd to bear."
Scornful they heard: Melantho, fair and young, (Melantho, from the loins of Dolius sprung, Who with the queen her years an infant led, With the soft fondness of a daughter bred,) Chiefly derides: regardless of the cares Her queen endures, polluted joys she shares Nocturnal with Eurymachus: with eyes That speak disdain, the wanton thus replies: "Oh! whither wanders thy distemper'd brain, Thou bold intruder on a princely train? Hence, to the vagrants' rendezvous repair; Or shun in some black forge the midnight air. Proceeds this boldness from a turn of soul, Or flows licentious from the copious bowl? Is it that vanquish'd Irus swells thy mind? A foe may meet thee of a braver kind, Who, shortening with a storm of blows thy stay, Shall send thee howling all in blood away!"
To whom with frowns: "O impudent in wrong! Thy lord shall curb that insolence of tongue; Know, to Telemachus I tell the offence; The scourge, the scourge shall lash thee into sense."
With conscious shame they hear the stern rebuke, Nor longer durst sustain the sovereign look.
Then to the servile task the monarch turns His royal hands: each torch refulgent burns With added day: meanwhile in museful mood, Absorb'd in thought, on vengeance fix'd he stood. And now the martial maid, by deeper wrongs To rouse Ulysses, points the suitors' tongues: Scornful of age, to taunt the virtuous man, Thoughtless and gay, Eurymachus began:
"Hear me (he cries), confederates and friends! Some god, no doubt, this stranger kindly sends; The shining baldness of his head survey, It aids our torchlight, and reflects the ray."
Then to the king that levell'd haughty Troy: "Say, if large hire can tempt thee to employ Those hands in work; to tend the rural trade, To dress the walk, and form the embowering shade. So food and raiment constant will I give: But idly thus thy soul prefers to live, And starve by strolling, not by work to thrive."
To whom incensed: "Should we, O prince, engage In rival tasks beneath the burning rage Of summer suns; were both constrain'd to wield Foodless the scythe along the burden'd field; Or should we labour while the ploughshare wounds, With steers of equal strength, the allotted grounds, Beneath my labours, how thy wondering eyes Might see the sable field at once arise! Should Jove dire war unloose, with spear and shield, And nodding helm, I tread the ensanguined field, Fierce in the van: then wouldst thou, wouldst thou,--say,-- Misname me glutton, in that glorious day? No, thy ill-judging thoughts the brave disgrace 'Tis thou injurious art, not I am base. Proud to seem brave among a coward train! But now, thou art not valorous, but vain. God! should the stern Ulysses rise in might, These gates would seem too narrow for thy flight."
While yet he speaks, Eurymachus replies, With indignation flashing from his eyes:
"Slave, I with justice might deserve the wrong, Should I not punish that opprobrious tongue. Irreverent to the great, and uncontroll'd, Art thou from wine, or innate folly, bold? Perhaps these outrages from Irus flow, A worthless triumph o'er a worthless foe!"
He said, and with full force a footstool threw; Whirl'd from his arm, with erring rage it flew: Ulysses, cautious of the vengeful foe, Stoops to the ground, and disappoints the blow. Not so a youth, who deals the goblet round, Full on his shoulder it inflicts a wound; Dash'd from his hand the sounding goblet flies, He shrieks, he reels, he falls, and breathless lies. Then wild uproar and clamour mount the sky, Till mutual thus the peers indignant cry: "Oh had this stranger sunk to realms beneath, To the black realms of darkness and of death, Ere yet he trod these shores! to strife he draws Peer against peer; and what the weighty cause? A vagabond! for him the great destroy, In vile ignoble jars, the feast of joy."
To whom the stern Telemachus uprose; "Gods! what wild folly from the goblet flows! Whence this unguarded openness of soul, But from the license of the copious bowl? Or Heaven delusion sends: but hence away! Force I forbear, and without force obey."
Silent, abash'd, they hear the stern rebuke, Till thus Amphinomus the silence broke: