Classic Poem

But when aire's rosie birth, the Morne, arose,
Telemachus did for the Towne dispose
His early steps, and tooke to his command
His faire long Lance, well sorting with his hand,
Thus parting with Eumaeus: " Now, my friend,
I must to Towne, lest too farre I extend
My Mother's mone for me, who, till her eyes
Mine owne eyes witnesse, varies teares and cries
Through all extreames. Do then this charge of mine,
And guide to Towne this haplesse guest of thine,
To beg else-where his further Festivall.
Give they that please, I cannot give to all:
Mine owne wants take up for my selfe my paine.
If it incense him, he the worst shall gaine;
The lovely truth I love, and must be plaine."
" Alas, Friend," saide his Father, " nor do I
Desire at all your further charity.
'Tis better beg in Cities than in Fields,
And take the worst a begger's fortune yields.
Nor am I apt to stay in Swine-sties more
How ever: ever the great Chiefe before
The poore Rankes must to every step obay.
But goe; your man in my command shall sway
Anon yet too by favor, when your fires
Have comforted the colde heat age expires,
And when the Sun's flame hath besides corrected
The early aire abroad — not being protected
By these my bare weeds from the morning's frost;
Which (since so much ground is to be engrost
By my poore feete as you report) may give
Too violent charge to th'heat by which I live."
This saide, his Sonne went on with spritely pace,
And to the wooers studied little grace.
Arriv'd at home, he gave his Javeline stay
Against a lofty Pillar, and bold way
Made further in — when, having so farre gone
That he transcended the fayre Porch of Stone,
The first by farre that gave his entry eye
Was Nurse Euryclea, who th'embrodery
Of Stooles there set was giving Cushions faire,
Who ranne upon him, and her rapt repaire
Shed teares for joy. About him gather'd round
The other Maides, his head and shoulders croun'd
With kisses and embraces. From above
The Queene her selfe came, like the Queene of Love
Or bright Diana, cast about her Sonne
Her kinde embraces, with effusion
Of loving teares kist both his lovely eyes,
His cheekes, and forehead, and gave all supplies
With this entreaty: " Welcome, sweetest light.
I never had conceite to set quicke sight
On thee thus soone, when thy lov'd father's fame
As farre as Pylos did thy spirit enflame,
In that search ventur'd all unknowne to me.
O say, by what power cam'st thou now to be
Mine eyes' deare object?" He return'd reply:
" Move me not now, when you my scape descry
From iminent death, to thinke me fresh entrapt,
The fear'd would rubbing, felt before I scap't.
Double not needlesse passion on a heart
Whose joy so greene is, and so apt t'invert —
But, pure weeds putting on, ascend and take
Your women with you, that yee all may make
Vowes of full Hecatombs in sacred fire
To all the God-heads, if their onely Sire
Vouchsafe revenge of guest-rites wrong'd, which hee
Is to protect, as being their Deity.
My way shall be directed to the hall
Of common Concourse, that I thence may call
A stranger, who from off the Pylian shore
Came friendly with me, whom I sent before
With all my souldiers, but in chiefe did charge
Piraeus with him, wishing him t'enlarge
His love to him at home in best affaire
And utmost honors, till mine owne repaire."
Her Son thus spoken, his words could not beare
The wings too easely through her either eare,
But, putting pure weeds on, made vowes entire
Of perfect Hecatombes in sacred fire
To all the Deities, if their onely Sire
Vouchsaft revenge of guest-rites wrong'd, which he
Was to protect, as being their Deity.
Her Son left house, in his faire hand his Lance,
His dogs attending, and on every glance
His lookes cast from them Pallas put a grace
That made him seeme of the celestiall race.
Whom (come to concourse) every man admir'd;
About him throng'd the wooers, and desir'd
All good to him in tongues, but in their hearts
Most deepe ils threatn'd to his most deserts.
Of whose huge rout once free, he cast glad eie
On some that, long before his infancie,
Were with his Father great and gracious —
Grave Halitherses, Mentor, Antiphus —
To whom he went, tooke seate by them, and they
Enquir'd of all things since his parting day.
To them Piraeus came, and brought his Guest
Along the City thither, whom not least
The Prince respected, nor was long before
He rose and met him. The first word yet bore
Piraeus from them both, whose haste besought
The Prince to send his women, to see brought
The Gifts from his house that Atrides gave —
Which his own roofes he thought wold better save.
The wise Prince answer'd: " I can scarse conceive
The way to these workes. If the wooers reave
By privy Stratagem my life at home,
I rather wish Piraeus may become
The Maister of them than the best of these.
But, if I sowe in their fields of excesse
Slaughter and ruine, then thy trust imploy
And to me joying bring thou those with joy."
This said, he brought home his grief-practisd Guest,
Where both put off, both oyl'd, and did invest
Themselves in rich Robes, washt, and sate, and eate.
His Mother, in a faire chaire taking seate
Directly opposite, her Loome applied —
Who (when her Son and Guest had satisfied
Their appetites with feast) said: " O my Sonne,
You know that ever since your Sire was wonne
To go in Agamemnon's guide to Troy,
Attempting sleepe, I never did injoy
One night's good rest, but made my quiet bed
A Sea blowne up with sighes, with teares still shed
Embrew'd and troubl'd: yet, though all your misse
In your late voyage hath bene made for this,
That you might know th'abode your Father made,
You shun to tell me what successe you had.
Now then, before the insolent accesse
The wooers straight will force on us, expresse
What you have heard." " I will," saide he, " and true.
We came to Pylos, where the studious due
That any Father could affoord his Son
(But new arriv'd from some course he had ron
To an extreame length, in some voyage vow'd)
Nestor, the Pastor of the people, showed
To me arriv'd in turrets thrust up hye,
Where not his brave Sons were more lov'd than I.
Yet of th'unconquer'd-ever-Sufferer
Ulysses never he could set his eare,
Alive or dead, from any earthy man.
But to the great Lacedemonian
(Atrides, famous for his Lance) he sent,
With horse and Chariots, me, to learne th'event
From his Relation — where I had the view
Of Argive Helen, whose strong beauties drew
(By wils of Gods) so many Grecian States
And Troyans under such laborious Fates.
Where Menelaus ask't me what affaire
To Lacedemon render'd my repaire.
I told him all the truth, who made reply:
" O deed of most abhor'd indecency!
A sort of Impotents attempt his bed
Whose strength of minde hath Cities levelled?
As to a Lyon's den when any Hinde
Hath brought her yong Calves, to their rest inclinde,
When he is ranging hils and hearby dales,
To make of Feeders there his Festivals,
But turning to his luster Calves and Dam,
He shewes abhorr'd death in his anger's flame:
So (should Ulysses finde this rabble housd
In his free Turrets, courting his espousd)
Foule death would fall them. O, I would to Jove,
Phaebus and Pallas that (when he shall prove
The broad report of his exhausted store
True with his eyes) his Nerves and Sinewes wore
That vigor then that in the Lesbian Tow'rs
(Provok't to wrastle with the iron powrs
Philomelides vanted) he approv'd —
When downe he hurl'd his Challenger and mov'd
Huge shouts from all the Achives then in view.
If, once come home, he all those forces drew
About him there to worke, they all were dead,
And should finde bitter his attempted bed.
But what you aske and sue for, I (as far
As I have heard the true-spoke Marinar)
Will tell directly, nor delude your eare.
He told me that an Island did enspheare
(In much discomfort) great Laertes' sonne,
And that the Nymph Calypso (over-ronne
With his affection) kept him in her Caves,
Where men nor Ship, of pow'r to brook the waves,
Were neere his convoy to his countrie's Shore,
And where her selfe importun'd evermore
His quiet stay — which, not obtain'd, by force
She kept his person from all else recourse. "
" This told Atrides, which was all he knew;
Nor staid I more, but from the Gods there blew
A prosperous winde, that set me quickly heere."
This put his Mother quite from all her cheere,
When Theoclymenus the Augure said:
" O woman, honour'd with Ulysses' bed,
Your Son, no doubt, knowes cleerely nothing more.
Heare me yet speake, that can the truth uncore,
Nor will be curious. Jove, then, witnesse beare,
And this thy Hospitable Table heere,
With this whole houshold of your blamelesse Lord,
That, at this houre, his royall feete are shor'd
On his lov'd countrey earth, and that even heere,
Comming or creeping, he will see the cheere
These wooers make, and in his soule's field sow
Seeds that shall thrive to all their overthrow.
This, set a ship boord, I knew sorted thus,
And cried it out to your Telemachus."
Penelope replied: " Would this would prove,
You well should witnesse a most friendly love
And gifts such of me as encountring Fame
Should greete you with a blessed Mortal's name."
This mutuall speech past, all the wooers were
Hurling the stone and tossing of the Speare
Before the Pallace, in the paved Court,
Where other-whiles their petulant resort
Sate plotting injuries. But when the hower
Of Supper enter'd, and the feeding power
Brought sheepe from field, that fil'd up every way
With those that usde to furnish that purvay,
Medon the Herald (who of all the rest
Pleasd most the wooers and at every Feast
Was ever neere) said: " You whose kind consort
Make the faire branches of the Tree our Court,
Grace it within now, and your Suppers take.
You that for health and faire contention's sake
Wil please your minds, know, bodies must have meat:
Play's worse than idlenesse in times to eate."
This said, all left, came in, cast by on Thrones
And Chaires their garments. Their provisions
Were Sheepe, Swine, Goats, the chiefly great and fat,
Besides an Oxe, that from the Herd they gat.
And now the King and Herdsman, from the field,
In good way were to Towne, twixt whom was held
Some walking conference, which thus begun
The good Eumaeus: " Guest, your will was wun
(Because the Prince commanded) to make way
Up to the City, though I wisht your stay
And to have made you Guardian of my stall:
But I, in care and feare of what might fall
In after anger of the Prince, forbore.
The checkes of Princes touch their subjects sore.
But make we hast, the day is neerely ended,
And cold ayres still are in the Even extended."
" I know't," said he, " consider all; your charge
Is given to one that understands at large.
Haste then: heereafter you shall leade the way;
Affoord your Staffe too, if it fit your stay,
That I may use it, since you say our passe
Is lesse friend to a weake foot than it was."
Thus cast he on his necke his nasty Scrip,
All patcht and torne, a cord that would not slip,
For knots and bracks, about the mouth of it
Made serve the turne; and then his Swaine did fit
His forc't state with a staffe. Then plied they hard
Their way to towne, their Cottage left in guard
To Swaines and Dogs. And now Eumaeus led
The King along, his garments to a thred
All bare and burn'd, and he himselfe hard bore
Upon his staffe, at all parts like a pore
And sad old begger. But when now they got
The rough high-way, their voyage wanted not
Much of the City: where a Fount they reacht
From whence the Towne their choisest water fetcht,
That ever over-flow'd, and curious Art
Was shewne about it: in which three had part,
Whose names Neritus and Polyctor were,
And famous Ithacus. It had a Sphere
Of poplar, that ranne round about the wall,
And into it a lofty Rocke let fall
Continuall supply of coole cleare streame —
On whose top to the Nymphs that were supreme
In those parts' loves a stately Altar rose,
Where every Travailer did still impose
Devoted sacrifice. At this fount found
These silly Travailers a man renown'd
For guard of Goats, which now he had in guide,
Whose huge-stor'd Herd two herdsmen kept beside,
For all Herds it exceld and bred a feed
For wooers onely. He was Dolius' seede,
And call'd Melanthius — who, casting eye
On these two there, he child them terribly,
And so past meane that even the wretched fate
Now on Ulysses he did irritate.
His fume to this effect he did pursue:
" Why so, 'tis now at all parts passing true,
That ill leades ill, good evermore doth traine
With like his like. Why, thou unenvied Swaine,
Whither dost thou leade this same victles Leager,
This bane of banquets, this most nasty begger? —
Whose sight doth make one sad, it so abhorres,
Who with his standing in so many doores
Hath broke his backe, and all his beggery tends
To beg base crusts but to no manly ends,
As asking swords, or with activity
To get a Caldron. Wouldst thou give him me
To farme my Stable, or to sweepe my yarde,
And bring brouse to my kids, and that prefer'd
He should be at my keeping for his paines,
To drinke as much whey as his thirsty veynes
Would still be swilling (whey made all his fees)
His monstrous belly would oppresse his knees.
But he hath learn'd to leade base life about,
And will not worke, but crouch among the rout
For broken meate to cram his bursten gut.
Yet this I'le say, and he will finde it put
In sure effect, that, if he enters where
Ulysses' roofes cast shade, the stooles will there
About his eares flye; all the house wil throw,
And rub his ragged sides with cuffes enow."
Past these reviles his manlesse rudenesse spurn'd
Divine Ulysses, who at no part turn'd
His face from him, but had his spirit fed
With these two thoghts — if he should strike him dead
With his bestowed staffe, or at his feete
Make his direct head and the pavement meete.
But he bore all, and entertain'd a brest
That in the strife of all extremes did rest.
Eumaeus, frowning on him, chid him yet,
And, lifting up his hands to heaven, he set
This bitter curse at him: " O you that beare
Faire name to be the race of Jupiter,
Nymphes of these Fountaines! If Ulysses ever
Burn'd thighes to you that hid in fat, did never
Faile your acceptance of or Lambe or Kid,
Grant this grace to me — let the man thus hid
Shine through his dark fate, make som God his guide,
That to thee, Goat-herd, this same Pallat's pride
Thou driv'st afore thee he may come and make
The scatterings of the earth, and over-take
Thy wrongs with forcing thee to ever erre
About the City, hunted by his feare.
And, in the meane space, may some slothfull Swaines
Let lowsie sicknesse gnaw thy Cattel's Vaines."
" O Gods!" replyed Melanthius, " what a curse
Hath this dog barkt out, and can yet do wurse?
This man shall I have given into my hands,
When in a well-built Ship to farre-off Lands
I shall transport him, that (should I want here)
My sale of him may finde me victels there.
And, for Ulysses, would to heaven his joy
The Silver-bearing-bow-God would destroy
This day within his house, as sure as he
The day of his returne shall never see."
This said, he left them, going silent on;
But he out-went them, and tooke straight upon
The Pallace royall, which he enter'd straight,
Sat with the wooers, and his Trencher's fraight
The Kervers gave him of the flesh there vented,
But bread the reverend Buttleresse presented.
He tooke against Eurymachus his place,
Who most of all the wooers gave him grace.
And now Ulysses and his Swaine got nere,
When round about them visited their eare
The hollow Harpe's delicious-stricken string,
To which did Phemius (neere the wooers) sing.
Then by the hand Ulysses tooke his Swaine,
And saide: " Eumaeus! One may heere see plaine
(In many a grace) that Laertiades
Built heere these Turrets, and (mongst others these)
His whole Court arm'd with such a goodly wall,
The Cornish and the Cope Majesticall,
His double gates and Turrets built too strong
For force or vertue ever to expugne.
I know the Feasters in it now abound,
Their Cates cast such a savour, and the sound
The Harpe gives argues an accomplisht Feast:
The Gods made Musicke, Banquet's deerest Guest."
" These things," said he, " your skill may tell with ease,
Since you are grac't with greater knowledges.
But now consult we how these workes shall sort,
If you will first approch this praised Court
And see these wooers (I remaining here),
Or I shall enter and your selfe forbeare.
But be not you too tedious in your stay,
Lest thrust ye be and buffeted away:
Braine hath no fence for blowes ; looke too't I pray."
" You speake to one that comprehends," said he,
" Go you before, and heere adventure me.
I have of old bene usde to cuffes and blowes;
My minde is hardn'd, having borne the throwes
Of many a soure event in waves and wars,
Where knockes and buffets are no Forreinars.
And this same harmefull belly by no meane
The greatest Abstinent can ever weane:
Men suffer much Bane by the Bellie's rage,
For whose sake Ships in all their equipage
Are arm'd and set out to th'untamed Seas,
Their bulkes full fraught with ils to enemies."
Such speech they chang'd: when in the yeard there lay
A dogge call'd Argus, which, before his way
Assum'd for Ilion, Ulysses bred,
Yet stood his pleasure then in little sted
(As being too yong), but, growing to his grace,
Yong men made choise of him for every Chace,
Or of their wilde Goats, of their Hares, or Harts.
But, his King gone, and he now past his parts,
Lay all abjectly on the Stable's store,
Before the Oxe-stall and Mules' stable dore,
To keepe the clothes cast from the Pessants' hands,
While they laide compasse on Ulysses' Lands,
The Dog with Tickes (unlook't to) over-growne.
But by this Dog no sooner seene but knowne
Was wise Ulysses, who (new enter'd there)
Up went his Dog's laide eares, and (comming nere)
Up he himselfe rose, fawn'd, and wag'd his Sterne,
Coucht close his eares, and lay so — nor descerne
Could evermore his deere-lov'd Lord againe.
Ulysses saw it, nor had powre t'abstaine
From shedding tears — which (far-off seeing his Swain)
He dried from his sight cleane, to whom he thus
His griefe dissembled: " 'Tis miraculous
That such a Dog as this should have his laire
On such a dunghill, for his forme is faire.
And yet I know not if there were in him
Good pace or parts for all his goodly lim,
Or he liv'd empty of those inward things,
As are those trencher-Beagles tending Kings,
Whom for their pleasures or their glorie's sake,
Or fashion, they into their favours take."
" This Dog," said he, " was servant to one dead
A huge time since. But if he bore his head
(For forme and quality) of such a hight
As when Ulysses (bound for th'Ilian fight,
Or quickly after) left him, your rapt eyes
Would then admire to see him use his Thyes
In strength and swiftnes. He would nothing flye,
Nor any thing let scape. If once his eye
Seiz'd any wilde beast, he knew straight his scent:
Go where he would, away with him he went.
Nor was there ever any Savage stood
Amongst the thickets of the deepest wood
Long time before him, but he pull'd him downe —
As well by that true hunting to be showne
In such vaste coverts, as for speed of pace
In any open Lawne; for in deepe chace
He was a passing wise and well-nos'd Hound.
And yet is all this good in him uncroun'd
With any grace heere now, nor he more fed
Than any errant Curre. His King is dead
Farre from his country, and his servants are
So negligent, they lend his Hound no care.
Where Maysters rule not but let Men alone,
You never there see honest service done.
That Man's halfe vertue Jove takes quite away,
That once is Sun-burn'd with the servile day."
This said, he enter'd the well-builded Towers,
Up bearing right upon the glorious wooers,
And left poore Argus dead. His Lord's first sight,
Since that time twenty yeares, bereft his light.
Telemachus did farre the first behould
Eumaeus enter, and made signes he should
Come up to him. He (noting) came and tooke
On earth his seate. And then the Maister Cooke
Serv'd in more banquet — of which, part he set
Before the wooers, part the Prince did get,
Who sate alone, his Table plac't aside,
To which the Herald did the bread divide.
After Eumaeus enter'd straight the King,
Like to a poore and heavy aged thing,
Bore hard upon his staffe, and was so clad
As would have made his meere beholder sad.
Upon the Ashen floore his limbes he spred,
And gainst a Cypresse threshold staid his head,
The tree wrought smooth and in a line direct
Tried by the Plumbe and by the Architect.
The Prince then bad the Herdsman give him bread
The finest there, and see that prostrated
At-all-parts plight of his given all the cheare
His hands could turne to: " Take," saide he, " and beare
These cates to him, and bid him beg of all
These wooers heere, and to their feastivall
Beare up with all the impudence he can:
Bashfull behaviour fits no needy Man."
He heard, and did his will: " Hold, Guest," saide he,
" Telemachus commends these cates to thee,
Bids thee beare up, and all these woo'rs implore:
Wit must make Impudent whom Fate makes pore."
" O Jove," said he, " do my poore pray'rs the grace
To make him blessed'st of the mortall race,
And every thought now in his generous heart
To deeds that further my desires convert."
Thus tooke he in with both his hands his store,
And in the uncouth Scrip that lay before
His ill-shod feete repos'd it, whence he fed
All time the Musicke to the Feasters plaid.
Both joyntly ending, then began the woo'rs
To put in old act their tumultuous pow'rs —
When Pallas, standing close, did prompt her frend
To prove how farre the bounties would extend
Of those proud wooers, so to let him try
Who most, who least, had learn'd humanity.
However, no thought toucht Minerva's minde
That any one should scape his wreake design'd.
He handsomly became all, crept about
To every wooer, held a forc't hand out,
And all his worke did in so like a way
As he had practis'd begging many a day.
And though they knew all beggers could do this,
Yet they admir'd it as no deede of his,
Though farre from thought of other, us'd expence
And pitty to him, who he was, and whence,
Enquiring mutually. Melanthius then:
" Heare me, ye wooers of the farre-fam'd Queen,
About this begger: I have seene before
This face of his, and know for certaine more —
That this Swaine brought him hither. What he is,
Or whence he came, flies me." Reply to this
Antinous made, and mockt Eumaeus thus:
" O thou renowned Herdsman, why to us
Brought'st thou this begger? Serves it not our hands
That other Land-leapers and Cormorands
(Prophane poore knaves) lye on us unconducted,
But you must bring them? So amisse instructed
Art thou in course of thrift as not to know
Thy Lord's goods wrackt in this their over-flow?
Which thinkst thou nothing, that thou calst in these?"
Eumaeus answer'd: " Though you may be wise,
You speak not wisely. Who cals in a Guest
That is a guest himselfe? None cal to Feast
Other than men that are of publique use —
Prophets or Poets, whom the Gods produce,
Physitians for men's ils, or Architects.
Such men the boundlesse earth affoords respects
Bounded in honour, and may call them wel:
But poore men who cals? Who doth so excell
In other's good to do himselfe an ill?
But all Ulysses' servants have bene still
Eye-sores in your waie more than all that woo,
And cheefly I. But what care I for you,
As long as these roofes hold as thrals to none
The wise Penelope and her God-like Sonne?"
" Forbeare," said he, " and leave this tongue's bold ill,
Antinous' uses to be crossing still,
And give sharpe words: his blood that humor beares,
To set men stil together by the eares.
But' (turning then t'Antinous) " O," saide he,
" You entertaine a Father's care of me,
To turne these eating guests out. Tis advise
Of needful use for my poore faculties.
But God doth not allow this. There must be
Some care of poore men in humanitie.
What you your selves take, give; I not envy,
But give command that hospitality
Be given al strangers. Nor shal my pow'rs feare,
If this mood in me reach my Mother's eare,
Much lesse the servants, that are heere to see
Ulysses' house kept in his old degree.
But you beare no such mind, your wits more cast
To fill your selfe than let another tast."
Antinous answer'd him: " Brave spoken man!
Whose mind's free fire see check't no vertue can.
If all we wooers heere would give as much
As my minde serves, his Larges should be such
As would for three months serve his farre off way
From troubling your house with more cause of stay."
This said, he tooke a stoole up that did rest
Beneath the boord his spangled feete at feast,
And offer'd at him. But the rest gave all,
And fil'd his fulsome Scrip with Festivall.
And so Ulysses for the present was,
And for the future, furnisht, and his passe
Bent to the doore to eate — yet could not leave
Antinous so, but said: " Do you too give,
Lov'd Lord, your presence makes a shew to me
As you not worst were of the company,
But best, and so much that you seeme the King —
And therefore you should give some better thing
Than bread, like others. I will spred your praise
Through all the wide world, that have in my daies
Kept house my selfe, and trod the wealthy waies
Of other men even to the Title Blest;
And often have I given an erring Guest
(How meane soever) to the utmost gaine
Of what he wanted, kept whole troopes of men,
And had all other commings in with which
Men live so well and gaine the fame of Rich.
Yet Jove consum'd all: he would have it so:
To which, his meane was this — he made me go
Farre off, for Egypt, in the rude consort
Of all-waies-wandring Pyrats, where in Port
I bad my lov'd men draw their Ships ashore,
And dwell amongst them, sent out some t'explore
Up to the Mountaines, who (intemperate,
And their inflam'd bloods bent to satiate)
Forrag'd the rich fields, hal'd the women thence,
And unwean'd children, with the foule expence
Both of their fames and bloods. The cry then flew
Straight to the City, and the great fields grew
With horse and foot, and flam'd with iron armes —
When Jove (that breaks the Thunder in Alarmes)
An ill flight cast amongst my men, not one
Inspir'd with spirit to stand and turne upon
The fierce pursuing foe: and therefore stood
Their ill fate thicke about them, some in blood,
And some in bondage, toiles led by constraint
Fastning upon them. Me along they sent
To Cyprus with a stranger Prince they met,
Dmetor Iasides, who th'Imperiall seat
Of that sweete Island swaid in strong command.
And thus feele I heere Need's contemned hand."
" And what God sent," saide he, " this suffering bane
To vex our banquet? Stand off, nor prophane
My boord so boldly, lest I shew thee here
Cyprus and Egypt made more soure than there.
You are a sawcy set-fac't Vagabond.
About with all you go, and they beyond
Discretion give thee, since they finde not heere
The least proportion set downe to their cheere.
But every Fountaine hath his under floods:
It is no Bounty to give others' goods."
" O Gods," replied Ulysses, " I see now
You beare no soule in this your goodly show.
Beggers at your boord, I perceive, should get
Scarse salt from your hands, if themselves broght meat,
Since, sitting where another's boord is spread,
That flowes with feast, not to the broken bread
Will your allowance reach." " Nay then," said he,
And look't austerely, " if so saucy be
Your suffer'd language, I suppose that cleere
You shall not scape without some broken cheere."
Thus rapt he up a stoole, with which he smit
The King's right shoulder 'twixt his necke, and it.
He stood him like a rocke: Antinous' dart
Not stirr'd Ulysses, who in his great hart
Deepe ils projected, which, for time yet, close
He bound in silence, shooke his head, and went
Out to the Entry, where he then gave vent
To his full scrip, sate on the earth, and eate,
And talk't still to the wooers: " Heare me yet,
Ye wooers of the Queene. It never greeves
A man to take blowes, where for Sheepe, or Beeves,
Or other maine possessions, a man fights:
But for his harmefull belly this man smites,
Whose love to many a man breeds many a wo.
And if the poore have Gods, and Furies too,
Before Antinous weare his Nuptiall wreath
He shall be worne upon the dart of death."
" Harsh Guest," saide he, " sit silent at your meate,
Or seeke your desperate plight some safer seate,
Lest by the hands or heeles youths drag your yeares,
And rend your rotten ragges about your eares."
This made the rest as highly hate his folly
As he had violated something holy —
When one (even of the proudest) thus began:
" Thou dost not nobly thus to play the man
On such an errant wretch. O ill dispos'd!
Perhaps some sacred God-head goes enclos'd
Even in his abject outside. For the Gods
Have often visited these rich abods
Like such poore stranger Pilgrims, since their pow'rs
(Being al wayes shapefull) glide through Townes and Tow'rs,
Observing as they passe stil who they be
That piety love, and who impiety."
This all men said, but he held sayings cheape.
And all this time Telemachus did heape
Sorrow on sorrow on his beating hart
To see his Father stricken, yet let part
No teare to earth, but shooke his head, and thought
As deepe as those ils that were after wrought.
The Queen now, hearing of her poore guest's stroke,
Said to her Maid (as to her wooer she spoke):
" I wish the famous for his Bow, the Sun,
Would strike thy heart so." Her wish (thus begun)
Her Lady, faire Eurynome, pursude
Her execration, and did thus conclude:
" So may our vowes call downe from heaven his end,
And let no one life of the rest extend
His life till morning." " O Eurynome,"
Replied the Queene, " may all Gods speake in thee,
For all the wooers we should rate as foes,
Since all their weales they place in others" woes.
But this Antinous we past all should hate,
As one resembling blacke and cruell Fate.
A poor strange wretch beg'd here, compel'd by need,
Askt all, and every one gave in his deed,
Fill'd his sad Scrip and eas'd his heavy wants:
Onely this man bestow'd unmanly tants,
And with a cruell blow (his force let flye)
'Twixt necke and shoulders shew'd his charity."
These minds (above) she and her Maids did show,
While at his scrip Ulysses sate below.
In which time she Eumaeus call'd, and said:
" Go, good Eumaeus, and see soone convaid
The stranger to me. Bid him come and take
My salutations for his welcome's sake,
And my desire serve, if he hath not heard
Or seene distrest Ulysses — who hath err'd
Like such a man, and therefore chance may fall
He hath by him bene met, and spoke withall."
" O Queene," saide he, " I wish to heaven your eare
Were quit of this unreverend noise you heare
From these rude wooers, when I bring the guest:
Such words your eare would let into your brest
As would delight it to your very heart.
Three nights and dayes I did my Roofe impart
To his fruition (for he came to me
The first of all men since he fled the Sea)
And yet he had not given a perfect end
To his relation of what woes did spend
The spight of Fate on him. But as you see
A Singer breathing out of Deity
Love-kindling lines, when all men seated nere
Are rapt with endlesse thirst to ever heare:
So sweetn'd he my bosome at my meate,
Affirming that Ulysses was in Crete,
Where first the memories of Minos were,
A Guest to him there dwelling, then as deare
As his true Father; and from thence came he
Tir'd on with sorrowes, tost from sea to sea,
To cast himselfe in dust and tumble heere
At wooers' feete, for blowes and broken cheere.
But of Ulysses (where the Thesprots dwell,
A wealthy people) Fame, he sayes, did tell
The still survivall — who his Native light
Was bound for now with treasure infinite."
" Call him," sayd she, " that he himselfe may say
This over to me. We shall soone have way
Given by the wooers. They, as well at Gate
As set within doores, use to recreate
Their high-fed spirits. As their humors leade
They follow — and may well, for still they treade
Uncharg'd waies here, their own welth lying unwasted
In poore-kept houses; onely something tasted
Their bread and wine is by their houshold Swaines,
But they themselves let loose continuall Reines
To our expences, making slaughter still
Of Sheepe, Goats, Oxen, feeding past their fill,
And vainly lavishing our richest wine,
All these extending past the sacred line.
For here lives no man like Ulysses now
To curbe these ruines. But should he once show
His country light his presence, he and his
Would soone revenge these wooers' injuries."
This said, about the house in ecchoes round
Her Son's strange Neesings made a horrid sound,
At which, the Queene yet laught, and said: " Goe call
The stranger to me. Heardst thou not to all
My words last utter'd what a Neesing brake
From my Telemachus? From whence I make
This sure conclusion — that the death and fate
Of every wooer heere is neere his date.
Call then the Guest; and if he tel as trew
What I shal aske him, cote, cloke, all things new
These hands shal yeeld him." This said, down he went
And told Ulysses that the Queene had sent
To call him to her, that she might enquire
About her husband what her sad desire
Urg'd her to aske; and, if she found him true,
Both cote, and cassocke (which he needed) new
Her hands would put on him, and that the Bread
Which now he begg'd amongst the commune tread
Should freely feed his hunger now from her,
Who all he wisht would to his wants prefer.
His answer was: " I will with fit speed tell
The whole truth to the Queene. For passing well
I know her Lord, since he and I have shar'd
In equall sorrowes. But I much am scar'd
With this rude multitude of wooers here,
The rage of whose pride smites heaven's brazen sphere —
Of whose rout when one strooke me for no fault,
Telemachus, nor none else, turn'd th'assault
From my poore shoulders. Therefore, though she hast,
Beseech the Queene her patience will see past
The daye's broad light, and then may she enquire.
'Tis but my closer preasing to the fire
In th'Evening's cold, because my weeds, you know,
Are passing thin — for I made bold to show
Their brackes to you, and pray'd your kinde supply."
He heard, and hasted, and met instantly
The Queene upon the pavement in his way,
Who askt: " What? Bringst thou not? What cause of stay
Finde his austere supposes? Takes he feare
Of th'unjust wooers? Or thus hard doth beare
On any other doubt the house objects?
He does me wrong, and gives too nice respects
To his fear'd safety." " He does right," said he,
" And what he feares should move the policie
Of any wise one, taking care to shun
The violent wooers. He bids bide, til Sun
Hath hid his broad light: and, beleeve it, Queene,
T'will make your best course, since you two unseene
May passe th'encounter — you to speake more free,
And he your eare gaine lesse distractedly."
" The Guest is wise," said she, " and well doth give
The right thought use. Of all the men that live
Life serves none such as these proud wooers are
To give a good man cause to use his care."
Thus (all agreed) amongst the wooers goes
Eumaeus to the Prince, and (whispering close)
Said: " Now, my Love, my charge shall take up me,
Your goods, and mine. What here is, you must see
In fit protection. But, in chiefe, regard
Your owne deere safegard, whose state study hard,
Lest sufferance seize you. Many a wicked thought
Conceale these wooers — whom just Jove see brought
To utter ruine, ere it touch at us."
" So chance it, Friend," replyed Telemachus,
" Your Bever taken, go: in first of day
Come and bring sacrifice, the best you may.
To me, and to th'immortals, be the care
Of whatsoever heere the safeties are."
This said, he sate in his elaborate Throne.
Eumaeus (fed to satisfaction)
Went to his charge, left both the Court and wals,
Full of secure and fatall Festivals,
In which the wooers' pleasures still would sway.
And now begun the Even's nere-ending day.