"'Tis hard (he cries,) to bring to sudden sight Ideas that have wing'd their distant flight; Rare on the mind those images are traced, Whose footsteps twenty winters have defaced: But what I can, receive.--In ample mode, A robe of military purple flow'd O'er all his frame: illustrious on his breast, The double-clasping gold the king confess'd. In the rich woof a hound, mosaic drawn, Bore on full stretch, and seized a dappled fawn; Deep in the neck his fangs indent their hold; They pant and struggle in the moving gold. Fine as a filmy web beneath it shone A vest, that dazzled like a cloudless sun: The female train who round him throng'd to gaze, In silent wonder sigh'd unwilling praise. A sabre, when the warrior press'd to part, I gave, enamell'd with Vulcanian art: A mantle purple-tinged, and radiant vest, Dimension'd equal to his size, express'd Affection grateful to my honour'd guest. A favourite herald in his train I knew, His visage solemn, sad of sable hue: Short woolly curls o'erfleeced his bending head, O'er which a promontory shoulder spread; Eurybates; in whose large soul alone Ulysses view'd an image of his own."
His speech the tempest of her grief restored; In all he told she recognized her lord: But when the storm was spent in plenteous showers, A pause inspiriting her languish'd powers, "O thou, (she cried,) whom first inclement Fate Made welcome to my hospitable gate; With all thy wants the name of poor shall end: Henceforth live honour'd, my domestic friend! The vest much envied on your native coast, And regal robe with figured gold emboss'd, In happier hours my artful hand employ'd, When my loved lord this blissful bower enjoy'd: The fall of Troy erroneous and forlorn Doom'd to survive, and never to return!"
Then he, with pity touch'd: "O royal dame! Your ever-anxious mind, and beauteous frame, From the devouring rage of grief reclaim. I not the fondness of your soul reprove For such a lord! who crown'd your virgin love With the dear blessing of a fair increase; Himself adorn'd with more than mortal grace: Yet while I speak the mighty woe suspend; Truth forms my tale; to pleasing truth attend. The royal object of your dearest care Breathes in no distant clime the vital air: In rich Thesprotia, and the nearer bound Of Thessaly, his name I heard renown'd: Without retinue, to that friendly shore Welcomed with gifts of price, a sumless store! His sacrilegious train, who dared to prey On herds devoted to the god of day, Were doom'd by Jove, and Phoebus' just decree, To perish in the rough Trinacrian sea. To better fate the blameless chief ordain'd, A floating fragment of the wreck regain'd, And rode the storm; till, by the billows toss'd, He landed on the fair Phaeacian coast. That race who emulate the life of gods, Receive him joyous to their bless'd abodes; Large gifts confer, a ready sail command, To speed his voyage to the Grecian strand. But your wise lord (in whose capacious soul High schemes of power in just succession roll) His Ithaca refused from favouring Fate, Till copious wealth might guard his regal state. Phedon the fact affirm'd, whose sovereign sway Thesprotian tribes, a duteous race, obey; And bade the gods this added truth attest (While pure libations crown'd the genial feast), That anchor'd in his port the vessels stand, To waft the hero to his natal land. I for Dulichium urge the watery way, But first the Ulyssean wealth survey: So rich the value of a store so vast Demands the pomp of centuries to waste! The darling object of your royal love Was journey'd thence to Dodonean Jove; By the sure precept of the sylvan shrine, To form the conduct of his great design; Irresolute of soul, his state to shroud In dark disguise, or come, a king avow'd! Thus lives your lord; nor longer doom'd to roam; Soon will he grace this dear paternal dome. By Jove, the source of good, supreme in power! By the bless'd genius of this friendly bower! I ratify my speech, before the sun His annual longitude of heaven shall run; When the pale empress of yon starry train In the next month renews her faded wane, Ulysses will assert his rightful reign."
"What thanks! what boon! (replied the queen), are due, When time shall prove the storied blessing true! My lord's return should fate no more retard, Envy shall sicken at thy vast reward. But my prophetic fears, alas! presage The wounds of Destiny's relentless rage. I long must weep, nor will Ulysses come, With royal gifts to send you honour'd home!-- Your other task, ye menial train forbear: Now wash the stranger, and the bed prepare: With splendid palls the downy fleece adorn: Uprising early with the purple morn. His sinews, shrunk with age, and stiff with toil, In the warm bath foment with fragrant oil. Then with Telemachus the social feast Partaking free, my soul invited guest; Whoe'er neglects to pay distinction due, The breach of hospitable right may rue. The vulgar of my sex I most exceed In real fame, when most humane my deed; And vainly to the praise of queen aspire, If, stranger! I permit that mean attire Beneath the feastful bower. A narrow space Confines the circle of our destin'd race; 'Tis ours with good the scanty round to grace. Those who to cruel wrong their state abuse, Dreaded in life the mutter'd curse pursues; By death disrobed of all their savage powers, Then, licensed rage her hateful prey devours. But he whose inborn worth his acts commend, Of gentle soul, to human race a friend; The wretched he relieves diffuse his fame, And distant tongues extol the patron-name."
"Princess? (he cried) in vain your bounties flow On me, confirm'd and obstinate in woe. When my loved Crete received my final view, And from my weeping eyes her cliffs withdrew; These tatter'd weeds (my decent robes resign'd) I chose, the livery of a woful mind! Nor will my heart-corroding care abate With splendid palls, and canopies of state: Low-couch'd on earth, the gift of sleep I scorn, And catch the glances of the waking morn. The delicacy of your courtly train To wash a wretched wanderer would disdain; But if, in tract of long experience tried, And sad similitude of woes allied, Some wretch reluctant views aerial light, To her mean hand assign the friendly rite."
Pleased with his wise reply, the queen rejoin'd: "Such gentle manners, and so sage a mind, In all who graced this hospitable bower I ne'er discerned, before this social hour. Such servant as your humble choice requires, To light received the lord of my desires, New from the birth; and with a mother's hand His tender bloom to manly growth sustain'd: Of matchless prudence, and a duteous mind; Though now to life's extremest verge declined, Of strength superior to the toil design'd-- Rise, Euryclea! with officious care For the poor friend the cleansing bath prepare: This debt his correspondent fortunes claim, Too like Ulysses, and perhaps the same! Thus old with woes my fancy paints him now! For age untimely marks the careful brow."
Instant, obsequious to the mild command, Sad Euryclea rose: with trembling hand She veils the torrent of her tearful eyes; And thus impassion'd to herself replies:
"Son of my love, and monarch of my cares, What pangs for thee this wretched bosom bears! Are thus by Jove who constant beg his aid With pious deed, and pure devotion, paid? He never dared defraud the sacred fane Of perfect hecatombs in order slain: There oft implored his tutelary power, Long to protract the sad sepulchral hour; That, form'd for empire with paternal care, His realm might recognize an equal heir. O destined head! The pious vows are lost; His God forgets him on a foreign coast!-- Perhaps, like thee, poor guest! in wanton pride The rich insult him, and the young deride! Conscious of worth reviled, thy generous mind The friendly rite of purity declined; My will concurring with my queen's command, Accept the bath from this obsequious hand. A strong emotion shakes my anguish'd breast: In thy whole form Ulysses seems express'd; Of all the wretched harboured on our coast, None imaged e'er like thee my master lost."
Thus half-discover'd through the dark disguise, With cool composure feign'd, the chief replies: "You join your suffrage to the public vote; The same you think have all beholders thought."
He said: replenish'd from the purest springs, The laver straight with busy care she brings: In the deep vase, that shone like burnish'd gold, The boiling fluid temperates the cold. Meantime revolving in his thoughtful mind The scar, with which his manly knee was sign'd; His face averting from the crackling blaze, His shoulders intercept the unfriendly rays: Thus cautious in the obscure he hoped to fly The curious search of Euryclea's eye. Cautious in vain! nor ceased the dame to find This scar with which his manly knee was sign'd.
This on Parnassus (combating the boar) With glancing rage the tusky savage tore. Attended by his brave maternal race, His grandsire sent him to the sylvan chase, Autolycus the bold (a mighty name For spotless faith and deeds of martial fame: Hermes, his patron god, those gifts bestow'd, Whose shrine with weanling lambs he wont to load). His course to Ithaca this hero sped, When the first product of Laertes' bed Was now disclosed to birth: the banquet ends, When Euryclea from the queen descends, And to his fond embrace the babe commends: "Receive (she cries) your royal daughter's son; And name the blessing that your prayers have won." Then thus the hoary chief: "My victor arms Have awed the realms around with dire alarms: A sure memorial of my dreaded fame The boy shall bear; Ulysses be his name! And when with filial love the youth shall come To view his mother's soil, my Delphic dome With gifts of price shall send him joyous home." Lured with the promised boon, when youthful prime Ended in man, his mother's natal clime Ulysses sought; with fond affection dear Amphitea's arms received the royal heir: Her ancient lord an equal joy possess'd; Instant he bade prepare the genial feast: A steer to form the sumptuous banquet bled, Whose stately growth five flowery summers fed: His sons divide, and roast with artful care The limbs; then all the tasteful viands share. Nor ceased discourse (the banquet of the soul), Till Phoebus wheeling to the western goal Resign'd the skies, and night involved the pole. Their drooping eyes the slumberous shade oppress'd, Sated they rose, and all retired to rest.
Soon as the morn, new-robed in purple light, Pierced with her golden shafts the rear of night, Ulysses, and his brave maternal race, The young Autolyci, essay the chase. Parnassus, thick perplex'd with horrid shades, With deep-mouth'd hounds the hunter-troop invades; What time the sun, from ocean's peaceful stream, Darts o'er the lawn his horizontal beam. The pack impatient snuff the tainted gale; The thorny wilds the woodmen fierce assail: And, foremost of the train, his cornel spear Ulysses waved, to rouse the savage war. Deep in the rough recesses of the wood, A lofty copse, the growth of ages, stood; Nor winter's boreal blast, nor thunderous shower, Nor solar ray, could pierce the shady bower. With wither'd foliage strew'd, a heapy store! The warm pavilion of a dreadful boar. Roused by the hounds' and hunters' mingling cries, The savage from his leafy shelter flies; With fiery glare his sanguine eye-balls shine, And bristles high impale his horrid chine. Young Ithacus advanced, defies the foe, Poising his lifted lance in act to throw; The savage renders vain the wound decreed, And springs impetuous with opponent speed! His tusks oblique he aim'd, the knee to gore; Aslope they glanced, the sinewy fibres tore, And bared the bone; Ulysses undismay'd, Soon with redoubled force the wound repaid; To the right shoulder-joint the spear applied, His further flank with streaming purple dyed: On earth he rushed with agonizing pain; With joy and vast surprise, the applauding train View'd his enormous bulk extended on the plain. With bandage firm Ulysses' knee they bound; Then, chanting mystic lays, the closing wound Of sacred melody confess'd the force; The tides of life regain'd their azure course. Then back they led the youth with loud acclaim; Autolycus, enamoured with his fame, Confirm'd the cure; and from the Delphic dome With added gifts return'd him glorious home. He safe at Ithaca with joy received, Relates the chase, and early praise achieved.
Deep o'er his knee inseam'd remain'd the scar; Which noted token of the woodland war When Euryclea found, the ablution ceased: Down dropp'd the leg, from her slack hand released; The mingled fluids from the base redound; The vase reclining floats the floor around! Smiles dew'd with tears the pleasing strife express'd Of grief and joy, alternate in her breast. Her fluttering words in melting murmurs died; At length abrupt--"My son!--my king!"--she cried. His neck with fond embrace infolding fast, Full on the queen her raptured eye she cast Ardent to speak the monarch safe restored: But, studious to conceal her royal lord, Minerva fix'd her mind on views remote, And from the present bliss abstracts her thought. His hand to Euryclea's mouth applied, "Art thou foredoom'd my pest? (the hero cried:) Thy milky founts my infant lips have drain'd; And have the Fates thy babbling age ordain'd To violate the life thy youth sustain'd? An exile have I told, with weeping eyes, Full twenty annual suns in distant skies; At length return'd, some god inspires thy breast To know thy king, and here I stand confess'd. This heaven-discover'd truth to thee consign'd, Reserve the treasure of thy inmost mind: Else, if the gods my vengeful arm sustain, And prostrate to my sword the suitor-train; With their lewd mates, thy undistinguish'd age Shall bleed a victim to vindictive rage."
Then thus rejoin'd the dame, devoid of fear: "What words, my son, have passed thy lips severe? Deep in my soul the trust shall lodge secured; With ribs of steel, and marble heart, immured. When Heaven, auspicious to thy right avow'd, Shall prostrate to thy sword the suitor-crowd, The deeds I'll blazon of the menial fair; The lewd to death devote, the virtuous spare."
"Thy aid avails me not (the chief replied); My own experience shall their doom decide: A witness-judge precludes a long appeal: Suffice it then thy monarch to conceal."
He said: obsequious, with redoubled pace, She to the fount conveys the exhausted vase: The bath renew'd, she ends the pleasing toil With plenteous unction of ambrosial oil. Adjusting to his limbs the tatter'd vest, His former seat received the stranger guest; Whom thus with pensive air the queen addressed:
"Though night, dissolving grief in grateful ease, Your drooping eyes with soft impression seize; Awhile, reluctant to her pleasing force, Suspend the restful hour with sweet discourse. The day (ne'er brighten'd with a beam of joy!) My menials, and domestic cares employ; And, unattended by sincere repose, The night assists my ever-wakeful woes; When nature's hush'd beneath her brooding shade, My echoing griefs the starry vault invade. As when the months are clad in flowery green, Sad Philomel, in bowery shades unseen, To vernal airs attunes her varied strains; And Itylus sounds warbling o'er the plains; Young Itylus, his parents' darling joy! Whom chance misled the mother to destroy; Now doom'd a wakeful bird to wail the beauteous boy. So in nocturnal solitude forlorn, A sad variety of woes I mourn! My mind, reflective, in a thorny maze Devious from care to care incessant strays. Now, wavering doubt succeeds to long despair; Shall I my virgin nuptial vow revere; And, joining to my son's my menial train, Partake his counsels, and assist his reign? Or, since, mature in manhood, he deplores His dome dishonour'd, and exhausted stores; Shall I, reluctant! to his will accord; And from the peers select the noblest lord; So by my choice avow'd, at length decide These wasteful love-debates, a mourning bride! A visionary thought I'll now relate; Illustrate, if you know, the shadow'd fate:
"A team of twenty geese (a snow-white train!) Fed near the limpid lake with golden grain, Amuse my pensive hours. The bird of Jove Fierce from his mountain-eyrie downward drove; Each favourite fowl he pounced with deathful sway, And back triumphant wing'd his airy way. My pitying eyes effused a plenteous stream, To view their death thus imaged in a dream; With tender sympathy to soothe my soul, A troop of matrons, fancy-form'd, condole. But whilst with grief and rage my bosom burn'd, Sudden the tyrant of the skies returned; Perch'd on the battlements he thus began (In form an eagle, but in voice a man): `O queen! no vulgar vision of the sky I come, prophetic of approaching joy; View in this plumy form thy victor-lord; The geese (a glutton race) by thee deplored, Portend the suitors fated to my sword.' This said, the pleasing feather'd omen ceased. When from the downy bands of sleep released, Fast by the limpid lake my swan-like train I found, insatiate of the golden grain."
"The vision self-explain'd (the chief replies) Sincere reveals the sanction of the skies; Ulysses speaks his own return decreed; And by his sword the suitors sure to bleed."
"Hard is the task, and rare," (the queen rejoin'd,) Impending destinies in dreams to find; Immured within the silent bower of sleep, Two portals firm the various phantoms keep; Of ivory one; whence flit, to mock the brain, Of winged lies a light fantastic train; The gate opposed pellucid valves adorn, And columns fair incased with polish'd horn; Where images of truth for passage wait, With visions manifest of future fate. Not to this troop, I fear, that phantom soar'd, Which spoke Ulysses to this realm restored; Delusive semblance!-but my remnant life Heaven shall determine in a gameful strife; With that famed bow Ulysses taught to bend, For me the rival archers shall contend. As on the listed field he used to place Six beams, opposed to six in equal space; Elanced afar by his unerring art, Sure through six circlets flew the whizzing dart. So, when the sun restores the purple day, Their strength and skill the suitors shall assay; To him the spousal honour is decreed, Who through the rings directs the feather'd reed. Torn from these walls (where long the kinder powers With joy and pomp have wing'd my youthful hours!) On this poor breast no dawn of bliss shall beam; The pleasure past supplies a copious theme For many a dreary thought, and many a doleful dream!"
"Propose the sportive lot (the chief replies), Nor dread to name yourself the bowyer's prize; Ulysses will surprise the unfinish'd game, Avow'd, and falsify the suitors' claim."
To whom with grace serene the queen rejoin'd: "In all thy speech what pleasing force I find! O'er my suspended woe thy words prevail; I part reluctant from the pleasing tale, But Heaven, that knows what all terrestrials need, Repose to night, and toil to day decreed; Grateful vicissitudes! yet me withdrawn, Wakeful to weep and watch the tardy dawn Establish'd use enjoins; to rest and joy Estranged, since dear Ulysses sail'd to Troy! Meantime instructed is the menial tribe Your couch to fashion as yourself prescribe."
Thus affable, her bower the queen ascends; The sovereign step a beauteous train attends; There imaged to her soul Ulysses rose; Down her pale cheek new-streaming sorrow flows; Till soft oblivious shade Minerva spread, And o'er her eyes ambrosial slumber shed.