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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE BOW OF ODYSSEUS, by GERHART HAUPTMANN Poet's Biography
First Line: Nothing but bitter toil and care! I never
Last Line: That I her favourite playthings broke so soon?
Subject(s): Mythology - Classical; Ulysses; Odysseus
First Line: Nothing but bitter toil and care! I never
Last Line: That I her favourite playthings broke so soon?
Subject(s): Mythology - Classical; Ulysses; Odysseus
PERSONS
ODYSSEUS
TELEMACH
LAERTES
ANTINOOS The Wooers of Penelope
AMPHINOMOS
KTESIPPOS
EURYMACHOS
EUMÆUS, a swineherd
LEUCONE, his grand-daughter
MELANTEUS, a goathered
MELANTO, his daughter
NOAIMON, a young swineherd
EURYCLEA Herdsmen
GLAUKOS
LYKURGOS
IDOMENEUS
HEKTOR
LAMON
DRYAS
EUPHOBION
THE FIRST ACT
A region upon the island of Ithaca, high and hilly and covered for the most
part with forests of immemorial oaks. In the foreground a rocky ascent which
leads to the farm of EUMÆUS.
It is noon.
EUMÆUS, the swineherd, a very vigorous man, though over sixty, is
sitting on a bench beside the gate bisily anointing with tallow a
beautifully carved bow. Next to him, on the ground, a wooden bowl holding the t
allow, as well as a wine jug and a cup.
At the foot of the ascent appear two maidens of beautiful form who carry
pitchers on their heads and are about to mount the hillside. The first
of the water carriers is MELANTO, daughter of the goatherd
MELANTEUS, the other is LEUCONE, the grandchild of
EUMÆUS. The girls stop to rest, taking the pitchers from their heads.
MELANTO has reddish brown hair; her form is soft and sensuous. LEUCONE
is slender and dark, of perfect form and austerely noble beauty.
MELANTO
Nothing but bitter toil and care! I never
Lived through such evil days as here with you.
Surely, thou grudgest answer! Am I then
Of meaner birth? My father of estate
Lower than thy grandfather? One herds swine,
The other goats! A mighty difference!
Yet there's no other.
LEUCONE
'Tis the truth, Melanto.
Yet what help can I give thee? Still thy plaint
Is loud over this terrible drouth sent down
By Father Cronion on us, which I
Cannot prevent; nor make to flow again
The holy fountains from the arid hills.
Do I not fare down the steep path like thee
Unto the shore and Arethusa's well?
MELANTO
Ah, all were well didst thou but deign to speak.
For I am wont to dwell in palaces
And have received kind words and favour high.
For are they not greater than thou, the princes
Who, striving for Penelope's hand, yet spurned
Melanto not as of too humble stripe?
LEUCONE
[Sighs.]
Now I have nothing but my silence, girl.
MELANTO
Ay, nurse that silence, proud and arrogant!
And yet the truth is true! Oh, I could speak
Of things would make thy wide eyes wider yet.
Chief of the wooers is Eurymachos,
No man on Ithaca dare question that
Nor any woman — nor Penelope —
Who pants after him as doth the hart, but he
Grudges her not unto Antinoos,
Pursuing me, even me, with love. My shadow
Is not so faithful as Eurymachos.
LEUCONE
Were I to speak it were to vex thee. So,
Melanto, let us calmly go our ways.
MELANTO
And why, I pray thee, was I exiled here?
Who knows not that were blind indeed, Leucone.
Thou knowest it as surely as do I.
'Tis not Eurymachos alone that takes
Delight in me, but all who see me: this
Penelope's jealousy will not endure.
LEUCONE
To please such men as those who desecrate
The palace's hospitality below
Is not so difficult as many deem:
And were they pleased with me, I'd hold that pleasure
A bitterer pain than being stoned to death.
MELANTO
Art thou so chaste, Leucone? Ah, one knows
The story of thy chastity; wherefore
Thou followest the heroes in the hall
Still with thine hatred. What delights thee is
The red, full, kissing mouth of the unfledged youth.
Thou lovest the down more than the beard, the shyness
Of hesitant boys more than the strength of them
Who, sighing not, snatch the delight they would.
But thy effeminate weakling is a mark
Of jeering to all proper island men.
It may be that one pities him, would stroke
His curving cheek as though it were a girl's,
Thinking: "How awkward in thine innocence
O Telemachos, art thou and pitiable!
How, against heroes, canst thou guard thine own?"
And he would say: "Oh fetch a nurse that she
May spread my couch: mine eyes are heavy with sleep."
[She laughs immoderately.]
O strange and laughable thy nursling is!
LEUCONE
[Helping her lift the pitcher to her head.]
The errors that thou lovest thou must keep,
Melanto. But the nursling of thy jeers
Is no less than our fathers' lord and ours,
And in the days to come thy heart will be
Mindful of what thou hast forgotten now.
[LEUCONE has also lifted the pitcher to her head and the two girls asce
nd the hillside. They are about to pass EUMÆUS and enter the farmyard
when the swineherd stops them.
EUMÆUS
Melanto!
Ay, what is 't?
EUMÆUS
Leucone, look!
Younger thine eyes than mine. Does there not climb
A man unto our heights?
LEUCONE
Nay, I see no one.
Grandfather.
EUMÆUS
Thou seest no one?
LEUCONE
No one, nay.
EUMÆUS
Then still a demon doth confuse mine eyes.
For ever clearly I behold men climb
The summits of our hills. One had white hair,
And yestereve it was a youth. But when
I rise to greet them, 'tis as though a god
Made them dissolve into mere smoke and air.
[MELANTO goes on through the gate and enters the farmyard.
EUMÆUS
How promises the new maid in the house?
LEUCONE
Not well, grandfather. Had the queen but spared
To send this woman to our quiet house,
Blaspheming all things dear unto our hearts!
EUMÆUS
Oh, if on Ithaca there reigned a man,
He would have had this wench well scourged and sent
In chains to the Phœnician slave-dealers
For her loose ways and evil in the palace,
And not brought her unto the hills and us.
Not thus Penelope, the all too mild.
What help is there? They prey is here and all
The hounds upon her trail and in our stead —
Those hounds in heat from whom they have stolen her.
Two nights ago when that Antinoos
With his wild boon-companions climbed our wall
And like a mountain wolf broke in our court
I marked as well the fierce Eurymachos
Who is Melanto's lover above all.
She lured him to the insolent deed and he
Drew after him the others of his kind.
But they received a bloody welcome here,
Their evil prank ending in fear and shame.
How often sawest thou Antinoos, girl?
LEUCONE
I saw him in the council of the men
When Telemachos asked the ship to fare
Upon the sea and he would have denied it.
Then I saw him, he me, for the first time
And never since that day. He spake to me
With speech and manner and empty words I loathe.
EUMÆUS
Truly. "The shepherd Paris on Mount Ida"
Thus spake he, "saw thee not, fair shepherdess,
Else had the holy Aphrodite even
Not gained the apple in the contest there."
Have tidings from the city come, Leucone,
Speaking of Telemach's return from Pylos?
LEUCONE
Scarcely, for still I see the spies in ambush.
EUMÆUS
Where seest thou spies?
LEUCONE
Yonder I see them well,
Even though they seek to hide their forms, and clearly.
They are the spies sent by Antinoos.
They lie in wait upon the promontories,
Watchful for weeks, like robbers of the wild,
To slay our lord and theirs when he appears.
EUMÆUS
[Arising and gazing upon his work.
Father Cronion, father of the oppressed,
Guide Telemachos on his voyaging
And send his sails a favorable wind.
LEUCONE
And bring him safely through the bight to land.
[She and EUMÆUS gaze anxiously toward the sea.
EUMÆUS
Can man be such? This same Antinoos
Whom once Odysseus rocked upon his knees,
Foretelling him heroic future days,
Now seeks the life of the king's only son
And nurses other plans too dark for speech.
[He rises.
If but that mighty arm came to this land
To bend again this bow's unbendable string.
LEUCONE
[Looking at the bow in her father's hand. Her pitcher is still on her
head.
Is that Odysseus' bow?
EUMÆUS
Even his,
His and no other's, girl. Didst ever see
Another bow like this in all the world?
Not I, not ever! In ancient days Apollo
Once bent it ere Silenos carried it
The wise old centaur, teacher of the youth
Of Dionysos. In immemorial days
'Twas brought to Lacedæmon, there a hunter
Found it; to Iphitus it passed, and he
Being our lord's host gave it him as a gift.
Thine eyes ask questions, never yet sawest thou
The weapon in my hand. Behold, for years
I guard it ever hidden out of reach.
Were not the serfs far in the fields away
Guarding our herds, were solitary not
Our farmstead — had I not dreamed last night
Mysteriously, strangely, I would not
Sit here holding the weapon in my hand.
LEUCONE
What is it thou didst dream?
EUMÆUS
I know not. None
Must know it save the holy seer, child.
To-morrow will I fare unto the town
And tell him of these things.— Child, wert thou not
Beside my couch in the still night hours?
LEUCONE
Ay.
EUMÆUS
And thou didst hold a spear?
LEUCONE
I grasped a spear
And held it in my arm.
EUMÆUS
And why didst thou
Take the long spear and step unto my couch?
LEUCONE
Methought that I heard voices call and heard
The wolves once more baying about our wall.
EUMÆUS
Thou has peopled my dream from thine own dreams, Leucone.
It seemed to me that on thy shoulder sat
Athena's bird of wisdom, that thy lips
Spake things divine divinely. It is well.
I have done as I was bidden, have anointed
The bow with tallow, and the sounding string
Lies here prepared. Now may he come, that archer,
For whom the arrows have been kept so long.
[A baying of hounds is heard.
What is it? Why that uproar?
LEUCONE
'Tis the beggar,
I see him — yonder! — From the forest he comes.
EUMÆUS
Ho, beggar! Lift a stone and hurl it at them!
[He whistles to the dogs whose wild barking approaches; then lifts up a
stone and runs away, crying.
Ho Warder, Wolf and Guardian! Ho! Come here!
[A beggar appears — breathless and driven and throws himself at
LEUCONE'S feet, embracing her knees. It is ODYSSEUS, irrecognisable
through age and misery and his rags.
ODYSSEUS
Thou lofty one, whether thou be a goddess,
Or else one of the daughters of this island,
Praying for refuge I lie at thy feet.
Thy countenance is likest an immortal's!
Happy thy father! Happy she who bore thee!
Thrice happy he who, some day, calls thee his.
LEUCONE
I am naught but a herd girl, O strange man.
ODYSSEUS
Then would I wish to exalt thee till thou be
The equal of thy worth, wishing I were
What once I was in better days of old.
[In apparent exhaustion he lets his head sink.
LEUCONE
[To EUMÆUS who comes back hastening.
He breathes no more.
EUMÆUS
Breathes he no more?
LEUCONE
Ah, no.
EUMÆUS
Hurry into the house and bring the balsam
I gained in barter from the trading ship
Lately of the Phœnician! And bring wine!
For wine is healing when life's hardship grown
Too bitter robs the strength that is in man.
[LEUCONE goes into the house. EUMÆUS busies himself
about ODYSSEUS.
It is too late! Artemis from her quiver
Has sent a gentle shaft to set him free.
ODYSSEUS
Thou errest, friend! Him whom, here in the dust,
Thou seest in tears the divine arrow shuns!
Deaf is the goddess to my prayers; I must
Still bear my life, still bear it on and drag
A woe that knows no measure and no end,
Hateful to heaven and by the generations
Of men cast forth in darkness and forgotten.
EUMÆUS
Despair not, friend, whoever thou mayest be!
It is not seemly that, ere thou hast gained
New strength from food and drink, I question thee,
Upon the manner of thy sorrows! Which
Of all the gods pursues thee most with hate?
But be assured: the immortal gods alone
Are free of lamentation! Ay, not they
Wholly! Arise! Think of the heavenly ones,
And drink!
[LEUCONE has poured a cup full of wine and gives it to ODYSSEUS.
ODYSSEUS
Shall I think of the heavenly powers,
Wrapt round by shadows? I, one who has died?
I, so forgotten? Who fro m the realm below
Inured to darkness, but emerges, one
Scarcely remembering them who walk in light?
To whom pour I libation? Helios? He
Pursues me with his unendurable light?
Or to Poseidon, unforgiving lord?
To whom then? Ah, to Orcus and to thee
Persephone I pour the dark wine out!
[From the cup which he holds in both hands he spills some
drops of wine: then drinks thirstily. Having drunk he returns the empty cup to@
1 LEUCONE.
I thank thee, lofty maiden, that thou didst
Refresh my soul with wine. Thus did I pour
Blood for the dead below; 'twas dark and sweet
And fragrant like thy wine and all the shades
Slaked their unspeakable thirst as I do here.
And O my mother, with the naked sword
I strove to hinder thee lest thou shouldst drink
The blood! 'Twas agony to my heart and yet
I did it! Yet at last thou drankest too,
And then thy ghostly lips did tremble and speak,
And words themselves like shadows thy shade's mouth
Whispered! O mother, thrice did I spring forth
To embrace thee dear and lost, and thrice thine image
Melted, like to a dream, in nothingness!
O mother, all about me is a dream!
EUMÆUS
Confusedly thou speakest, O strange man,
And fearfully. Be gracious, Zeus, who guardest
The hospitable hearth. Come thou and rest.
[He leads the beggar to the bench where the latter sits down. Then he
continues.
A herdsman am I, servant of my lord,
Yet masterless. Does that seem strange to thee?
It is most strange, yet it is truth and seems
No easy burden, easily to be born,
Rather a thing of grief and of affliction.
Yet silence thereof, for the gods have willed it.
And he, my master, yet not mine, doth bear
A heavier load than I who still untouched
By lack of aught feast me upon his wealth
While he afar wanders or else is dead!
So in his name I bid thee welcome here,
And as I share with thee his wine and bread,
Thus may the gods ordain that unto him
The like be done as I do unto thee
Where he, perchance, bare of all needful things,
Knocks at some gate, craving the gifts of men.
Tarry a little, strengthen thee with wine
That lightens ill! Meanwhile I will prepare
All things and call thee to the cheerful board
When all is ready.
[EUMÆUS taking the bow and arrows with him disappears in the
yard. The beggar sits for a space lost in thought. LEUCONE stands
near him and regards him thoughtfully. Suddenly he moves his lips.
ODYSSEUS
Tell me the name this land
Bears that I look upon!
LEUCONE
'Tis Ithaca.
ODYSSEUS
[Turns slowly and looks at LEUCONE strangely and
absent-mindedly.]
I ask thee this land's name in which I am.
LEUCONE
This land is Ithaca.
ODYSSEUS
[Seems not to understand and gazes into the far
regions of the isle.]
Never shall I,
(Do I not feel it, cruel powers above?)
See even the smoke of my ancestral hearth
Rise in the distant sky!
LEUCONE
Tell me, strange man —
Surely thou camest not afoot! Then where
Did thy companions draw their keels ashore?
ODYSSEUS
[Without hearing or answering the girl's
question still stares immovably at the landscape.
To what new torment have the hostile gods
Consigned me? Helplessly I grope about,
Shadowed in madness! Where I landed? Where?
It is not known to me. With whom I came?
I know it not. And whence? Ah, could I tell!
LEUCONE
If thou art stricken in soul so that thou knowest
Neither the whence nor whither of thy ways,
Then must thy sorrows have been measureless
And measureless the immortals' ire which still
Pursues thee. For my simple mind can think
Not of a punishment more terrible
Than madness! When the empty darkness rules
Behind the forehead of a man where else
Sat the clear child of Zeus enthroned — then even
The writhing worm o' the slime is happier
And lordlier than that man. Oh, how could eye
Of mortal or of any god endure
To see the dead in soul eat, drink and walk
In the earth's ways?
ODYSSEUS
Tell me: What is this land!
LEUCONE
Though thou know not the wind that brought thee here,
Yet know — and of this one thing be assured —
Old man, that this is Ithaca. Here reigned
Odysseus once! Once, not to-day! To-day
Our lords are violence, hate, oppression, murder!
ODYSSEUS
And who, who, sayest thou did in old days wield
The scepter here? Who was the man?
LEUCONE
A god.
ODYSSEUS
What name gave men to him?
LEUCONE
Odysseus.
ODYSSEUS
Ah, speak that word again! Clear! Sound by sound!
LEUCONE
There is no goatherd in Hellenic lands
So deaf, so separate from all the world,
But that his soul is awed by the great fame
Of that Odysseus. ... But that his very bones
Do tremble at the name of him whom thou
Unblessèd man pretendest not to know.
ODYSSEUS
I know him.
[He hides his head.
LEUCONE
Truly thou must know the man
Before whom fell the cities of the earth!
Wisest in council, through whose skill and craft
Sank the impregnable towers of Ilion.
ODYSSEUS
[Uncovers his head again. Mysteriously
the landscape of the island outspread there seems to attract his gaze.
The demons mock me! O ye woods whose green
Covers the lofty cliff side like a fleece!
O bay which the stream seeks! There willows stand
And poplars! And the fishers cast their nets,
And white sails glide beyond! Oh, though I close
Mine eyes or open, picture changes not —
A blessing unto sight and unto soul!
And though no visible barrier shuts it in,
My glance rests as though finding refuge sweet,
After long wandering in an inn prepared
Even by the grace of the immortal gods.
And yet it is delusion!
LEUCONE
So this land
Is no strange land to thee?
ODYSSEUS
Softly ... I dream!
Or doth there lie beyond those gentle hills
Resting in shadow of the olive groves,
Hiding the river, sloping toward the shore —
Lies not behind them? ... Hidden ... Ay! Ah, no!
Thou liest! I know it! Lies there not the city
And royal seat of him whose name thou didst
Speak but this hour?
LEUCONE
Ay, it is so, in truth ...
ODYSSEUS
Pallas, high goddess, was it thy voice that spake?
Dividest thou the mists with one great flash
That slays me not? O homeland, art thou there?
Standest on earth's foundations still and waitest
Faithfully as though fate had been a friend?
And art thou made of earth?
[He picks up a handful of earth.
Ay, this is it ...
Is gold, not earth! Ambrosial sustenance,
Not earth! Nay, only simple earth and not
Base gold, base food of the immortals, only
Earth, earth, earth, earth! And yet this lowly dust
Is costlier than purple, precious more
Than freighted silks of the Phœnician looms,
More easeful that Calypso's lovely bed,
Sweeter than Circe's body wonderful,
More magic to the touch. Behold I am
A beggar and have nothing in the world
Save these poor rags! Offer me Helen's breasts,
Give me the holy citadels of Troy!
I'd weigh them not against this grain of earth.
LEUCONE
Who art thou?
ODYSSEUS
I? Odysseus ... was my friend.
LEUCONE
O good, old man, let not that dangerous word
Slip from thy tongue when thou art in the house
And sittest at the hospitable board.
For far too often men come — like to thee —
Whether through greed or need — full of wild tales,
Feigning to tell us of Odysseus' fate.
They sit and feed until the torches smoulder
And lie with brazen forehead of our lord.
I counsel thee: Speak of Odysseus not!
Neither assert that thine own eyes have seen him,
Nor that a guest friend told thee tales of him,
Nor that he fared but shortly from a land
Thou visitedst thereafter! Do not say
He lives! Let it not come into thy mind
To swear thou wert his spear bearer of old
On Trojan fields, or that thou wert with him
Once hidden in the belly of the horse.
If thou desirest protection, gift or rest,
Beware lest some imagined demon drive
Thee unto prophecy of his return.
For it is certain that he comes no more.
ODYSSEUS
And why so certain?
LEUCONE
Far away from here
The gods decreed his everlasting doom,
And there is nothing more for us to hope.
ODYSSEUS
So you have certain message of his death?
And died he nobly?
LEUCONE
Ask Poseidon that!
Who drives him o'er the bitter waves o' the sea,
Whether he fell in fighting pirate ships,
Or whether in inglorious struggle him
The angry sea devoured.
ODYSSEUS
Men say — and do they speak
Truthfully — that thirteen unshorn Achæans
Of them whom once the hero led afar
Against the Trojan walls, have safe returned
In days but now gone by?
LEUCONE
But now gone by?
Not one returned in all the twenty years,
And so let no man doubt that he is dead.
And he has passed beyond the ken of man,
And hope were blasphemy. Oh, ill enough
Waiting has brought and doubt and hesitation.
What dost thou?
ODYSSEUS
Naught! The chill shakes me: the air
Blows cold upon your mountains. 'Tis well. I will
For the sake of food — for I am hungry — name
Never the name that hovers on my tongue,
And raze if from my memory for the sake
Of a piece of mouldy bread. But tell me then:
Who was it vaulted me the hero's mound,
And poured libations in his memory?
Was any left to do that memory grace?
LEUCONE
Old man, this is the question makes my soul
Tremble in care ever since Telemach
Put forth to sea to get him counsel wise
In sandy Pylos from old Nestor's lips,
And I myself persuaded him to it!
Also I bade him, for the last time, seek,
If of the winds, word of his father's fate,
And any hope that he still breathed on earth.
I bade him, hoping nothing, certain rather
Of the extreme doom—yet counseling so that
He might in manly wise stem idle grief
And unblessed, curve him the memorial mound,
Sacrifice and give gifts and hold henceforth,
Free of all doubt the sceptre and hold sway
As ruler of the isle. But now our lot
Is waiting, watching that cats into the heart
Since he is gone. We waited for the father
Now wait we for the father and the son.
To-day the son's return doth seem to me
A joy far deeper to be wished than even
The coming of Odysseus! For he is young,
Odysseus old, and we have need of strength
And of the vigour of the arm of youth.
For weeks I stand upon the shore and gaze,
Until mine eyes ache, over the boundless sea.
Oh, had I wings like to the crane, could fly
To warn the unsuspecting Telemach
And point with finger at the murderers
Who hide in hollows of the coast in ships
To slay him as their evil hearts have planned.
ODYSSEUS
Thou speakest of a man called Telemach!
Was't not the name once of Odysseus' son
Whom he left here, a suckling at the breast?
Telemach? Does he live? Has the forgotten
And luckless wanderer a living son?
LEUCONE
Art thou in dreams still? Also the lad's mother
Divine Penelope is still alive!
The strangest mother, surely, that was ever
Given a son on earth: she is surrounded
By bands of insolent wooers who do homage
To her and with wild waste destroy and scatter
Her son's possessions and plot against his life.
Thou smilest! This seems madness unto thee.
And yet those men who cross the estuaries
With shameless sails bellowing in the wind
Are that Penelope's royal parasites,
Reared by her patience, by her weakness bred,
Who sate her troubled soul with flatteries
Until she is confused and weak and weaves
A web she would not finish evermore
And still unravels in the silent night.
And if these wooers win to slay the son
Of her they woo, then will the web be not
The shroud of old Laertes! It will be
The shroud of him her womb in pain has borne.
ODYSSEUS
[Breaks his staff.
Ye will not let it be, O heavenly powers!
EUMÆUS
[Appearing at the gate of the yard.
Two pigs are crackling on the spit for us,
Come in.
LEUCONE
He moans.
EUMÆUS
Art thou sick?
LEUCONE
One can see
Only the white of his eye in pain, grandfather.
EUMÆUS
Let be! Bring me the mixing jug, Leucone
Famished is this man's soul! Who hath not known
How lack of all doth break the strength of one
Who in the bottom of the wooden ship
Must watch the moons arise and the moons sink.
[LEUCONE goes into the yard.
Thy foot is on the solid earth, good father,
Arise, enter my house and honour next
The board that has been spread against thy need.
ODYSSEUS
[Supported by EUMAEUS, arises slowly and gazes at the spot on
which LEUCONE stood but now.
The goddess? Tell me: whither vanished she,
The fair immortal who from the head of Zeus
Sprang gleaming? She was with me! Ay, she stood
Scarcely two paces from thee, stood, and spake!
And what she spake I'd treasure in my heart
Until the fortunate hour, if one more such
Be destined for me, makes my tongue o'erflow.
But now grant me that with my lips I touch
The holy threshold ere I cross it! How
Should I affront this venerable stone,
Yearned for through, ah, how many sleepless nights
In the wild passion of my desperate prayers?
[He lies down and touches the threshold with his lips. Long he
lies there in silence. Then he arises and slowly disappears with
EUMAEUS within the gate.
THE SECOND ACT
Within the house of the swineherd EUMÆUS. Walls of
unhewn stone. In the background the great hearth with a
smouldering fire: above it a chimney. The whole oblong
chamber is blackened with smoke. Behind the hearth
other rooms adjoin this: they serve the needs of
the house and farm. Within them are troughs for
feed, amphoræ for the storing of wine. The floor consists of uneven flagst
ones.
The outer chamber has a door in either wall. That at the left remains closed.
A long, very ancient wooden table occupies the greater part of the space.
Here EUMÆUS is in the habit of eating with his manservants and
maidservants.
MELANTO is busy in the adjoining room. LEUCONE passes her and
enters. She carries a ewer filled with water in her hands.
MELANTO
Where tarriest thou? Who is without the gate?
LEUCONE
One whose misfortunes make him our fit guest.
[Through the door at the right which now opens comes
EUMÆUS supporting the beggar from the yard.
EUMÆUS
Never saw I a man thy equal yet
In deep humility. Oh, raise thee up!
Forget and though it be for briefest space
The hardships of thy struggles and thy years.
ODYSSEUS
What have I not forgotten!
EUMÆUS
Rest thee here
And let Melanto wash thy feet. Come, girl,
And do this service for the poor old man.
MELANTO
[Looking in, boldly.
I wash the feet of scaly beggarmen?
Have I fallen so low! Then woe to me indeed!
LEUCONE
It is my office. Here I am, grandfather.
And let the fretting maiden mind her task.
EUMÆUS
Ay, follow thy task, girl. But remember this:
Though I seem not to look on thee nor watch
Thy doings. Once the day must come when thou
Shalt reap an hundred fold what thou hast sown.
ODYSSEUS
[As MELANTO laughs a jeering laugh.
Oh let me rest upon the cold hearth stone,
And cover me with the ashes of this house,
And suffer me the while, remembering not.
EUMÆUS
Welcome thou art and not endured, O stranger.
ODYSSEUS
Welcome to thee, not to the gods; of thee
Blessed, but to the heavenly ones accursed.
[He cowers in the ashes and kisses the hearthstone.
EUMÆUS
What doest thou? The stone of this plain hearth
Harbors no demon that would vex thee, naught
That thou must or appease or fear, but guards
A hospitable fire for thee and me.
And now, be not unmanned. Art thou pursued
For guilt's sake? 'Twas a mighty guilt and thou
Borest thyself heroically in it.
Be no less strong and manly expiating.
ODYSSEUS
Let me caress the red flame of this hearth,
Press my dishonoured and accursed face
Deep in the glow thereof, even as a child
Hides in its mother's lap its frightened head.
Leave me!
EUMÆUS
His mind is stricken.
MELANTO
Or else he is
Naught but a very cunning thief of pigs,
Seeing his profit thus.
EUMÆUS
Come thou and eat.
[He and LEUCONE raise ODYSSEUS and lead him
to the table, helping him to sit down. EUMÆUS
turns again to MELANTO.
Curb thy bold tongue a little, red-haired wench!
Remind me not of those dark thieves of night
Whom once before I chased in pitiful plight.
MELANTO
Thou'llt vex me not; thou knowest they come again!
Evil fares he who harms a hair o' my head.
EUMÆUS
Why dost thou tremble at my touch and gazest
So full of horror?
ODYSSEUS
Master, I am afraid.
EUMÆUS
Of what?
ODYSSEUS
Even of the maidservants in thine house.
MELANTO
'Tis wise in thee. But do not end by giving
A story of Odysseus' homecoming.
ODYSSEUS
[With a throttled cry.
Never! He who is lost can come no more!
MELANTO
Right so! For we drive liars out with whips.
EUMÆUS
Desecratest thou this man's grief, Melanto,
With insolent words? Tormentest him pursued
Even in the peace of this house till a cry
Of fear and horror is wrung from his sad heart?
Oh well I know where thou hast learned such
ways!
Friend full of grief, 'tis but a worthless wench
And godless, coarse of heart, who does not know
That one whom some immortal's curse pursues
Carries the immortal's stamp upon his brow.
It is enough! Away from here, vile wench!
[While MELANTO goes with a jeering
shrug, NOAIMON, a young swineherd, brings
in the roasted pig on a platter and sets it on the table.
EUMÆUS
[Continuing.
Be sure, good father, I know well thou'rt not
One of those arch impostors who at times
With lying tales of our great lord's return
Strive here to play the idle parasite.
Take what is offered thee and be refreshed.
Thou whisperest—what?
ODYSSEUS
First let me think; then tell me:
What is the truth?
EUMÆUS
He who perverts it knows
And he who tells it wholly knows no less.
ODYSSEUS
Then am I held in a cleft that's made of truth
And falsehood, headlong over an abyss.
No more!
[To LEUCONE.
I thank thee. He returns no more.
[He begins to eat greedily. LEUCONE goes into the adjoining chamber
from which she watches.
EUMÆUS
Thou sayest too much, even thou, I know, canst
not
Know aught or of Odysseus or his ways:
Yet the mere words thou speakest—though empty sound—
Give a new wound to my despairing heart,
And thou wouldst not reward kindness with wounds.
What is a name to thee, even though it be
That of our king? Whether he be alive,
Or dead and unreturning. Let it rest.
ODYSSEUS
[Striking the table, cries out.
Then bury him twelve fathoms deep in earth!
EUMÆUS
[Astonished.
Whom?
ODYSSEUS
Well, that king of yours!
EUMÆUS
Whom?
ODYSSEUS
Ay, himself!
Away with him, if it be but the name
That scares you. Hide him deep in earth—forgotten!
EUMÆUS
Odysseus' name is fearful to his foes,
Not unto us.
ODYSSEUS
Yet it seems so.
EUMÆUS
Thou errest.
What knowest thou of Odysseus.
ODYSSEUS
This, naught else:
To name him at his board is dangerous.
EUMÆUS
Ay, at the board where the wild wooers sit
Who strive, imperious, for Penelope's hand,
The palace board of riotous gluttony—
There it is fearful. But thou errest thinking
That any name sounds sweeter in our ears.
But we are weary of waiting—twenty years!—
Weary of hopeless waiting, and the name
Of him, our venerated chief, recalls
The barren sorrow of our long despair.
ODYSSEUS
And were he to return?
EUMÆUS
Old man, forget not
The food before thee. Let it be. Why dost thou
Pierce me with such stern glances? Who art thou?
ODYSSEUS
A poor blind beggar, master—nothing else.
EUMÆUS
If thou art blind how canst thou glance so?
ODYSSEUS
Yet
With this same glance did I subdue a god.
EUMÆUS
What god didst thou subdue?
ODYSSEUS
The same whose light
Was quenched thereafter in my darkening soul.
EUMÆUS
O poor, poor victor!
[TELEMACHUS enters just as he has disembarked.
Telemachus! Thou?
Is't thou in truth?
TELEMACH
In very truth!
EUMÆUS
'Tis thou
O dearly loved son; thou'rt safe and whole.
TELEMACH
So truly as the sea returned me.
ODYSSEUS
[Springing up in a kind of ecstasy.
A god!
EUMÆUS
A god to us! Well mayest thou say he is
A god.
TELEMACH
Telemach only. Where is Leucone, friend?
EUMÆUS
Ah, let me look on thee, beloved one,
So sorely yearned for! May the gods protect me:
A boy thou wentest, comest back—a man.
TELEMACH
'Tis well. A man! We need him in this land.
Oh, may the seeming not deceive you, like
The beggar whose wild eyes still stare at me.
Let me not vex thee, old man; rest thee still.
ODYSSEUS
[Sits down again trembling.
A god.
TELEMACH
No god, dear man; only a mother's son.
EUMÆUS
Oh, if, instead of thee who standest here
Odysseus' self, thy father had fared home —
Art thou not both? Doth he not live in thee? —
No greater the delight were of my heart.
[He embraces TELEMACH.
But tell me: How didst thou escape the spies?
TELEMACH
We landed at the promontory. There
I landed, my companions sailed around
The island to the harbor.
EUMÆUS
This, my son,
Did some immortal counsel.
TELEMACH
Nay, my heart.
EUMÆUS
Then of that farm I must no more complain
That from the ship and to Nereiton drew thee,
Since it has saved thee from a certain death!
Ah, evil plotters, let your oar-locks creak,
Your yard-arms groan with labour! He is here!
He has escaped your net, is safe at home.
TELEMACH
How is it in the city since I went?
EUMÆUS
More wretched than the day thou put'st to sea.
How should it not? Since thou art gone, those princes
Who by themselves are wooers called, and are
Wild revellers and robbers, watch the peaks
The gleaming peaks of Hellas with distrust.
And as we, daily hoping, seek the snow
Upon Taygetus' top with yearning eyes,
So sought they it with fear but ill concealed.
For might not come from thence, at any hour,
Avengers of their guiltiness which now
Through thee was known in the Hellenic lands?
But they redoubled their wild revelry,
And heaped up shame and violence and ill:
Woe to the peasant, to the vintner, herdsman,
That did with wife and children not subdue
His wishes to their boundless, tireless lusts!
Bringest thou help to us, O Telemach?
TELEMACH
None but the help that these two hands can give.
No keel, no sail, no prow follows me here,
Save those that fared with me in ocean. Or,
Perchance thou wilt esteem a cargo of
Light promises a host of Myrmidons.
ODYSSEUS
[Strikes the table as though in madness.
Slay me a fatted swine! Then sacrifice,
And feast until the dawn come! I, the lord,
Command that ye shall kill the beast and eat!
EUMÆUS
With madness, lord, the gods have cursed this man.
TELEMACH
Get me a frugal meal. The thought disgusts me
To imitate the gluttons in the palace.
EUMÆUS
That is not wisely acted, O my dear one.
The servant who shall recognise his master
Demands a goodly feast on happy days.
And therefore the poor beggar's mad command
Shall be to me to-day above thine own.
There comes my grandchild. Ye can spare me now.
I shall myself prepare the good we need.
[LEUCONE approaches with some hesitancy from the adjoining room,
while EUMÆUS passes out at the right into the yard.
L
EUCONE
Can I then trust mine eyes, O Telemach?
Is it thyself?
TELEMACH
Has dwelling in strange lands
So changed me that I am strange even to you?
LEUCONE
Ay, thou are changed. Also the soul that's torn
Suddenly from the darkness of despair
Lacks faith in sudden glory of the light.
TELEMACH
Yet I am Telemach whom thou didst counsel
Unto the voyage which is safely passed.
LEUCONE
And did not ships with full sails cross thy path,
Bristling with men and weapons, when ye passed
The isle of Asteris upon your way?
TELEMACH
I shunned the island.
LEUCONE
Then a god gave thee
Protection! The same god who sped thee forth,
Brought thee safe home amid the murderous swords.
For I must warn thee that they seek thy life,
The wooers all, foremost Antinoos,
And seek it openly and without shame,
Since thou didst set out on thy voyage. Day
And night they lie in wait upon the sea,
Sleepless with their alternate sentinels.
TELEMACH
Fear then no more. I am safe. Upon that day
When in the council of the folk I begged
In vain for ship and men and the salt words —
Bitterer than brine — of all the wooers were poured
Out over me, the boy — upon that day
My new found manhood was in sorry plight.
I came to thee. We sacrificed unto
The fountain's nymph. Then we descended far
Unto the sounding shore and dipped our hands
In the grey flood of ocean, praying both
Unto Athena, and she heard our prayer.
For straight thy soul was filled with steady light.
Thou spakest unforgetable words: "Oh take,
What the empty chatterers refuse to give.
Odysseus' name is not an empty sound:
Odysseus' son is not a figment vain."
Oh, I have learned that he is not, in truth.
Thou spakest further: "The lion's seed is still
A lion. Be thyself and show thy claws!
No man will venture to oppose thee then."
And I have worked my work and first my soul
Strove unto thee. Now my companions sail
Without me, around the cape, into the sound
And the great harbour. For I left them, went
Upon the promontory and climbed to thee.
To thee — ere any other eye should gaze
In mine, or any other face should meet
My glance and in the stead of refuge sweet
Oppose the blankness of the fields of death.
Why art thou full of horror? Why showest thou
Fear, not that courage bright thou gavest me?
Be joyous, maiden, for I know as I
Have always known: This is a combat keen
For life or death; no game! Thus shall it be!
High is my courage, fearless is my heart.
How fares my mother?
LEUCONE
When she learned that thou
Hadst secretly voyaged upon the sea ...
TELEMACH
Hush! Strange ears hear us, I forgot that there
The beggar lies.
LEUCONE
He has fallen into sleep.
So when thy mother learned that thou hadst put
Secretly out to sea without farewell,
She would believe it not. But when at last
She knew that it was true a great fear shook her.
She spake not, hid herself; her maid-servants
Heard how she wept. Reproachfully she called
The ancient Euryclea, beat her breast,
And threatened them with heavy punishment
Who had, perchance, known of thy secret plan.
TELEMACH
Tell me how many days had passed ere she
Asked for her son?
LEUCONE
Four.
TELEMACH
Gladly had I spared
Thee the discomfort, mother, of recalling
Even on the fifth day the poor son whose life
Is more a burden than a joy to thee.
Let me not speak thereof. 'Tis well with her
And with her wooers, I trust, whom father Zeus
Preserves unto my vengeance and their doom.
Why moans the old man in his sleep?
LEUCONE
I know not.
But fragile is his life that in the storms
Of fate flickers and may go out to-day.
TELEMACH
And this, behold, is my far faring's gain:
By ancient Nestor's hearth and in the land
Of mighty Menelaos, aye, even more
In struggle with wave and wind I grew — myself.
Out in the world I found that which I am.
And more I learned: to tell the thing that is
From what is not, the duty from the shame,
And marked what is no more to be endured.
I saw the goal and saw the way and saw
The deed which unescapably awaits
My hands, no other's, a deed that shall avenge
With bloody stroke my father and myself,
Also my mother, her not least of us,
For shame is put upon her through the years
By her wild wooers' revelry and crime.
LEUCONE
What knowledge of thy father brought'st thou home?
TELEMACH
That he was godlike! Here on Ithaca
Men bite their lips in wretched silence when
His lofty name resoundeth through the halls,
And shrug their shoulders and turn to their neighbours
In pity, and in doubt. And when my mother
Recounts his praise, the faces of the men
Jeer silently and in their stillness lies
Indulgence for a woman's weaknesses.
Thus is it here where once the rocky ground
Brought forth Odysseus, the incomparable.
Inured to shame and dull-souled is this race
That tills our earth, and envious of the bright
Radiance and fame of the Olympian,
Thinking of naught but how to quench its lust
And sate its greed in his own bed and wealth.
In the great world it is not so. Mighty
His shadow in men's song. Heroical
In music of all harps in royal halls!
Ay, so magnificently the minstrel's song
Glorified him, that fear upon me came
And quietly in mine own mind I weighed
If I were truly of his blood divine.
LEUCONE
And of what mind are the strange princes now?
Shall we still hope?
TELEMACH
That he return, perchance,
Unto his homeland? Nay! Longer to hope
Were blasphemy. He is dead. The gods desire not
That man beseeching the impossible
Recall to them the limits of their power.
And it is well for him he lives no more
Far from his native land; such misery
The gods inflict not on their favourites
Enduringly. What he, the godlike man
Has suffered, only now I fathom it.
For when the rocky shore of Ithaca
Was lost in the great sea, then from my breast
For the first time the cry leapt forth: My father!
In shadow of his sorrow I understood
His mighty, incommunicable pain:
It wakened in my soul and drove the tears
Into my eyes. Then, then first was he near
My spirit, he, the stranger whom my mother
Calleth my father, and his mighty soul
Enveloped me — weeping, my father's soul.
It stayed with me. In the deep night when I
Clung to the oar and when with mountainous surge
The billows rolled beneath our fragile ship,
My father's breath did touch me and I felt
A soft caress as from a ghostly hand
Upon my brow and shoulders, and my heart
Throbbed with a blessèd sense mysterious,
With courage high, and spake within me thus:
Thou art my son, no orphan evermore!
And when our prow turned toward home, behold
His spirit flew before. The grating dull
Against the shore, the hour I landed, seemed
A greeting from him in the world below
Returning home and yearning for this land.
Thine own shall come to thee, O father. He
To whom the azure of the boundless sea,
Radiant as the cloudless fields of heaven,
Seems sweeter than a meadow filled with flowers
Or forest rustling on Nereiton's peak —
He knows not the fell guile of the blue-locked
Poseidon, god of the sea. Let him consider
That all the splendour of the cruel sea
To him dying of thirst would equal not
One cupful dipped from Arethusa. Father,
I bid thee welcome home. Oh, thou shalt dwell
In shimmering palaces of gleaming stone
Drenched in the light, after I have duly built
Thy memoried mound and poured the sacrifice
To quench they thirst! And thou shalt drink of all
The holy fountains of this bounteous land
Draughts of sweet water and of sweeter wine —
And the black blood of rams, and what avails
More even than these — the blood of all thy foes.
ODYSSEUS
[Jumps up and stands with a mad gesture before TELEMACH.
Here! Ha! Bury me straight! I am Odysseus!
LEUCONE
Darest thou degrade the hero with mad ways?
TELEMACH
Let be, Leucone! He disgusts me. Come.
[TELEMACH and LEUCONE withdraw.
ODYSSEUS
Why should it not disgust him when dead men
Breathing corruption round about beseech
Burial. Who was it taught my son, a lad,
To know the kernel of fame's golden fruit
Rotting beside the public way, which is
Naught that it seems, nor seems in any wise
That which it is. And who am I, in sooth?
Have not my deeds fled from me far to shine
Coldly, in starry heavens, amid the gods?
Hidden in light, great constellations,
Strange to my soul? While I crouch huddled here,
A bundle of mean rags! And did not he,
My flesh and blood turn shuddering away
When I presumed to be that which I am?
Is not my son as strange as is my fame?
And I am here to beg both son and fame!
Oh, ye false gods, him whom ye called to deeds
Must now learn to endure: his courage high
Learns cowardice! He who was first in council
And in the battle of men knows how to flee!
Doglike the hero flees the random stone!
[He is about to run away. But EURYCLEA enters followed by
EUMÆUS. ODYSSEUS is startled and cowers again on the bench.
EURYCLEA
Ye have a killing here? Ye scald a swine?
Ye too give feasts and waste the substance of
Laertes' noble son! Fy on thee, fy,
Eumæus!
EUMÆUS
Fy, Eumæus, says she! Well,
Shall the grasshoppers in the palace yard
Only enjoy the booty?
EURYCLEA
Fy, oh, fy!
May that word rue thee, swineherd, may the food
Stick in the gullet, swineherd, mayest thou
Be strangled by the thing thou stealest.
EUMÆUS
Zeus
Will prevent that. Come gird thee now and help
Us with the feast, old chatterer.
EURYCLEA
Ay, I'll help!
I'll help thee, swineherd, with Penelope!
Here I come climbing with my anguished heart ...
EUMÆUS
Zeus strengthen the small ass that bore thee hither.
EURYCLEA
Old as I am, I climb! I sway and swing
O'er the abyss, fall, almost die and glide,
For the beast stumbled so. ...
EUMÆUS
We know, we know!
Forget not what thou camest to say, old woman.
EURYCLEA
I come and find ye mad like all the rest!
[EUMÆUS laughs aloud.
ODYSSEUS
[Strikes the table in the midst of the laughter.
Oh, slay and eat! Oh, slay and eat!
EURYCLEA
[Frightened. Who is
That man, Eumæus?
EUMÆUS
No one! Take him to be
No one, for that's the measure of the man.
EURYCLEA
Where carrion lies soon will the vultures flock.
These ragamuffins! Were I king and lord
In Ithaca I'd place me poisoned bites,
Or with the hounds drive forth this beggar folk
Into the sea. No danger of such rule!
I am a helpless aged woman. No man
Reigns in the land. The son and heir has gone
The father's way. Zeus knows and he alone
Where Telemach and his father rot together.
O mighty one, Odysseus!
[To EUMÆUS.
Woe to thee, too,
Thou faithless servant, when the master comes!
EUMÆUS
[With simple sincerity.
Ah, he is welcome!
ODYSSEUS
Ay, the horse-dealer who
In trickery is master of us all:
Nimble in all thieves' cunning, well experienced
In cowardly slyness — hardened, brazen, shrewd —
Bring him and make him prince and king and lord
Of the rogue's guilds in Ithaca!
EURYCLEA
[Rushes up to him.
Thou ventest
Thy venom on the king, and no one beats
And thwacks and drives thee as is thy desert!
ODYSSEUS
Ah, No one beats me! No one beats me here!
[He strikes his own head.
EUMÆUS
He is beside himself, mad. Mark him not.
EURYCLEA
Who is it?
ODYSSEUS
No one!
EURYCLEA
Art thou no one?
ODYSSEUS
Ay!
Thou knowest me. I am No one, daughter of Ops.
EURYCLEA
He makes me shudder!
EUMÆUS
Having eaten and drunk,
He grows a burden.
ODYSSEUS
[As though in fear of pursuit. Room! Oh, give me room!
Leave me!
EUMÆUS
Whither away? What troubles thee?
ODYSSEUS
Eh, ye would steal upon the beggar's sleep.
Murderer!
[He runs to the rear and disappears.
EURYCLEA
Support me, friend. Who hurts him? Who?
My blood runs cold. I am old. I have often seen
Men slay each other. Never yet heard I
A cry by which my soul was riven so.
EUMÆUS
I have heard sorer in my time, old nurse.
What brings thee to us?
EURYCLEA
I have come for news
Of Telemach. My mistress sends me. She
Beats her poor breasts and weeps and scolds, because
Men are deceiving her.
EUMÆUS
Who is't deceives her?
EURYCLEA
Thou and her wooers and her maids and all!
And now at last even her own son. Speak not
For Telemach! He'd slay his mother! Ay!
Slay her through fear and consternation. Is that
A kind son's way? Oh, may some god forgive him
His thoughtlessness. All secretly he speeds
Away, alone, unchildlike! No farewell!
Boards him a ship and goes in the dark night.
He needs a father! What this wayward boy
Wants is a vigorous father's heavy hand.
EUMÆUS
And art thou done, O Euryclea?
EURYCLEA
Nay!
Heaven knows I climbed not hither unto thee
And to thy swine to rasp my throat with words.
Thou and thy swine surely are less to me
Than Telemachos and his mother. Thou art
The base betrayer of thy youthful lord.
Strive not to darken council! Didst not thou
Secretly aid his plan? Didst not provide
Him ship and men and pilot for his ship?
And to what end but to be rid of him?
EUMÆUS
Wise in thine own conceit?
EURYCLEA
Eh? Have I not
Eyes that can see, ears that can hear? Did I not,
Also Melanteus the goatherd meet?
EUMÆUS
Melanteus, of all men?
EURYCLEA
Surely I met him
Climbing the hills to visit thee, his friend.
EUMÆUS
Not light are thy reproaches! Yet didst thou
Send us Melanto, that vile, common wench,
To be a sting and weariness to us?
Now comes the goatherd, that repulsive wight,
To speak with her. Is that so strange seeing
She is the daughter of the wily wretch?
By Zeus, but thou must change thy tune, old friend.
And Telemach has safe returned to us.
And there has come a man and a strong lord
And not the youth who, one short month ago,
Put forth his ship to sea. Therefore I bid thee
Spare violent words and rest content with us.
EURYCLEA
My dream! My dream of the dark night come true!
Lead me to him that I may see and touch him.
[MELANTO has approached, listening with bold curiosity.
MELANTO
Is't true thou metst my father?
EUMÆUS
What wouldst thou?
MELANTO
Naught, master. Only hear if I heard right.
EUMÆUS
Work, woman, and put wax into thine ears.
MELANTO
One likes to hear what it is well to know.
EUMÆUS
Then know that righteousness toward thee would mean
A stone about thy neck and casting thee
In ocean for thy evil deeds and tongue.
MELANTO
[Laughs jeeringly.
The chiefs of the princes think not as thou dost,
And will decree that punishment for others.
Until that time I'll use my patience here.
Oh, if the wooers knew what here is done.
EURYCLEA
Art thou not tamed yet, O thou void of shame,
Who in the very palace of the king
Didst practice evil with the sons of sloth,
To every stranger's lust a willing thing,
Betraying the holy hearth that nourished thee?
Does not thy heart smite thee now that our mistress
Has chosen so mild a punishment for thee?
MELANTO
Is then the queen so chaste with all her rout
Of maddened princes and wild younglings there
Who day and night are noisy in her house?
Lies on the threshold of her chamber door
The hundred headed hound of hell to watch?
And in these hills does Telemach otherwise
Delight him with a serf and lowly maid
Than did Eurymachos, the hero, if
Reports are true and he kissed me indeed?
[MELANTO laughs and returns to the adjoining chamber in the rear. The
old LAERTES, indistinguishably like ODYSSEUS in his beggar's guise,
has sat down unnoticed on the place which the latter left.
EUMÆUS
Since she is here the foe is in my house.
And when the day of bloody reckoning comes,
Not as the last must she to Orcus fare.
EURYCLEA
[Observes LAERTES and is startled.
He has come back.
EUMÆUS
Who?
EURYCLEA
Oh, a horror shakes me.
What would the stranger with his stealthy ways?
EUMÆUS
Thou errest. 'Tis Laertes.
LAERTES
Who calls me?
EUMÆUS
Thy servant bids thee welcome, O dear lord.
LAERTES
Cook me an oatmeal porridge! Hearest thou?
An oatmeal porridge, swineherd, ay, that's it.
EUMÆUS
This is a sacred hour, lord, for to-day
Thy grandson has come home. Thy meal must be
Fitting; a festive board have we prepared
To celebrate our Telemach's return.
LAERTES
Ay, 'tis the porridge. Right so. Cook me quick
The oatmeal porridge, swineherd!
EUMÆUS
O my dear
Old lord, akin once to the very gods,
Father of him, the much-proved wanderer
Whom men Odysseus call, the wrathful one.
I knew him well. I knew his wrath that once
Awakened was not sated but by blood.
Art thou without protection? Is there no one
To knead thee in the bath and clothe thy limbs
In regal garb. Are not Penelope's chambers
Fulfilled of costly raiment?
LAERTES
Eh, Eumæus
Thou art to cook an oatmeal porridge straight.
EURYCLEA
And do they let thee want, O venerable,
Grey father? Was it ever heard before?
A wealthy prince in rags! Oh, if thy son
Would but return and straight avenge thee!
LAERTES
Who
Is this woman, Eumæus?
EUMÆUS
It is Euryclea.
LAERTES
Is't thou, O Euryclea, daughter of Ops?
[Sobbing, EURYCLEA kisses his feet.
Is it not passing strange, Eumæus? Look!
This woman once was young! And still more strange!
I, too, was young in far days! Both of us,
She and myself — we were once young i' the world.
I had no son then, nor my son a wife
Busy weaving my shroud for me, nor yet
A grandson Telemach. I had been born
Into the world and laughed. And there was she!
With garments girded even to the sweet thighs
Did she prepare my bath. And think, likewise,
That all the bitter enemies who now
Crowd our dear island, and the swarms of men
Who come to harbour from ships great and small —
That they were all unborn. And unborn were
The beasts and men who rage here now. And also,
Knowest thou why I, who so yearned after thee,
(Thou yearning equally to be possessed)
Did not embrace all thy young loveliness,
O ancient Euryclea, daughter of Ops?
[Laughing in senile forgetfulness.
I know it not! Now are we old and toothless!
And thou and I — we play with love no more! ...
Cook me an oatmeal-porridge, swineherd! Go!
THE THIRD ACT
Inside of the yard of EUMÆUS' farmstead. The yard is surrounded
by block-houses, which serve the needs of the household, and by tall
fences. Toward the sea the farm is unfortified because it lies upon
a mountain height and is inaccessible from the shore. In the
background a strong gate of wood which is barricaded; in the middle of the yard
a well which is now dry. Not far from it stands MELANTO and stirs blood
in a pot of earthenware.
The dwelling house stands at the left. Next to the door is a stationary bench.
Upon this bench crouches feebly the beggar ODYSSEUS. LAERTES, who is now
the counterpart of ODYSSEUS in every way comes from the house and sits
down next to him.
LAERTES
Thou bathest thee i' the sun! Wilt thou not leave
A little space also for me, good comrade?
ODYSSEUS
[Leaps up, trembling.
Zeus be with me! Who art thou?
LAERTES
I have eaten
Of oatmeal porridge! Hee, hee! May be thou
Wouldst like some oatmeal porridge too, good comrade?
ODYSSEUS
Hast thou naught better?
LAERTES
Nay, I want naught better.
ODYSSEUS
O eyes of mine, so dull and blind! Must ye,
Having seen many woes, confess at last
That ye have seen no thing unto this day?
LAERTES
What murmurest thou, comrade! Let us chat!
[ODYSSEUS sits down again beside LAERTES.
ODYSSEUS
What are they busy with beyond there?
LAERTES
One
Cleaneth a swine, and the maid stirreth blood.
That is the custom on our island now.
Greed wastes the forest and the half-ripe fruit,
Greed wastes the blade upon the fields of wheat,
And greed gnaws at the root. Cellar and barn
Swarm with a vermin unescapable,
Even the king's golden house; for also it
Is wasted and picked clean by robbery.
Voracious teeth crush the land's marrow, maws
Insatiable still gorge themselves with it.
Let us prick up our ears, good comrade, let us
Listen unto their speech.
MELANTO
Why do we kill
A swine again to-day?
NOAIMON
Clearly that thou
Mayest not waste away, O head of flame!
MELANTO
Because the foolish people like it not,
I will not stain with smoke my golden hair,
Or shear it as great Hera's sacrifice.
NOAIMON
'Twould be a pity, for a steed like thou
Needs those strong reins for man to govern it.
MELANTO
It may be that that milk-faced Telemach
Escaped once more the punishment that's his,
But wait a little and thou soon wilt see
Who graces the board that has been laid for him.
NOAIMON
Whose favour shall one crave? The choice is hard.
MELANTO
When summer comes, lord of this isle will be
If not Antinoos, yet Eurymachos.
A few there be who hold that even more
Penelope burneth for Ktesippos —
No despicable hero either, he,
A mountain steer, innocent of the yoke.
But I do not believe that she prefers him.
Rather it is the tall Amphinomos:
For often she devours him with a glance
In which her passion flares up like a flame.
And she, the hypocrite, grows red and pale,
And lowers her moist glances to her lap.
She knows the arts of hiding. But who sees
Clearly, sees how her glances wander far.
And more one sees: for aye her traitor lips
Tremble and throb in secret ecstasy,
So that the goddess, cool as marble, glows
And her knees, chastely covered, falteringly
Refuse their service, and open to receive
The arrow of Eros even against their will.
O scarlet flower of passion, all aglow
Beneath concealing snow which doth but seem
To hide the burning summer at its heart.
And woe to him who this false Hera weds.
For love long reined will come upon him, bound
And throttled in this net he will receive
Wound after wound and bleed at last to death.
NOAIMON
But were Odysseus to return, O thou
Flaming-haired demon, tell me, were he not
An aged man? What thinkest thou? Would our mistress
Quench her red glow with him and be content?
MELANTO
Content and quenched? She and an aged man?
Oh, let him come and try! I'll hang myself,
If she delivers him not unto the pack,
And lets her wooers tear him limb from limb!
LAERTES
An evil-hearted wench.
ODYSSEUS
Assuredly.
[Pretending to be cold and in terror.
I am afraid! I am afraid!
LAERTES
I, too!
But I know caverns that are full of leaves.
Come with me! We will hide us in the mountains.
ODYSSEUS
It is not true that I am that Odysseus,
And so my wife can chase me not to death
With bloodhounds. Am I right? But if I were,
Father, I would be still as any mouse.
LAERTES
Ha, ha, ha, ha! Thou art my son Odysseus.
Why not, seeing that I am father of the man!
Odysseus' father dwells in these foul rags.
Nay, nay! I lied! Laertes am I not,
And so she whom my son did wed may not
Hunt me with bloodhounds. But if I were he,
I'd do as thou dost and speak not at all.
ODYSSEUS
[Moans and kisses the face of LAERTES
LAERTES
What dost thou?
ODYSSEUS
Lo, I kiss my father! Shall I
Not kiss the sacred head I have not seen
For twenty long, intolerable years?
Thrust me not from thee or my heart will burst,
And, terror-stricken, my entrails burn to ashes.
LAERTES
Ay, kiss me then, old comrade, kiss me then.
I have no brother, but thou art like to me.
The gods caused thee to shrivel and the vultures
Of misery to brood upon our heads.
Come, let us babble and hum. Let the half lamed
Tongues of old men babble their folly forth.
Though it sound wooden, I can think of no
Lovelier sound, spite of the Muses all.
Dishonoured aged men delight the gods.
How camest thou hither?
ODYSSEUS
In a pirate-ship's
Void belly I lived through dreadful, dreadful years,
Till I grew old and sick and the oar-slaves
Did case me forth as strengthless. Then they dragged
Me sleeping hither to this shore of thine.
'T was a strange sleep, old man; it was no less
A wakening as from a thousand deaths.
LAERTES
Not ill thou speakest. But what meanst thou?
ODYSSEUS
I babble as the thought come to my mind,
Knowing not what and void of memory.
LAERTES
They who do so are the gods favourites.
Up, darling of the gods, and let us dance.
NOAIMON
[Holding his sides with laughter.
Was ever such thing heard? Two beggars — deaf,
Crooked and stiff, limbs all awry with gout
And age and want, kiss — and at last they dance!
MELANTO
[Screaming with merriment.
Never thought I to see such sport. It happened
Never since the beginning of the world.
LAERTES
I dance and I caress thy ancient head.
ODYSSEUS
I do the same to thee, O ancient father.
LAERTES
If but my son could see my well-being!
ODYSSEUS
Woe! Woe!
LAERTES
[Stops, frightened.
Why criest thou? Who strikes thee?
ODYSSEUS
Woe!
[NOAIMON and MELANTO have watched the dance of the beggars
with loud laughter. ODYSSEUS has knelt down before LAERTES and kissed h
is hands. In the mean time MELANTO has opened the central gate and
admitted her father, the goatherd MELANTEUS.
MELANTEUS
[A restless, birdfaced fellow with spiteful and malicious eyes.
An old goat of my flock escaped from me;
I heard him bleating and I find him here.
[Amid general laughter he plucks LAERTES by the beard.
Pent in a cage this curious animal
From Sparta take to Athens! Let him dance
At all the fairs of Hellas as the last
Of all his race. Dance, learn to dance, Laertes!
Dance, thou obscene old goat and tell the men
Who stand about thee gazing, of the brood
Thou once begottest of those spindle loins.
LAERTES
How callest thou me? I am not that! Thou liest!
I am not Laertes! I am an old beggar.
MELANTEUS
Thou hast become a beggar, so take that!
[He strikes him.
EUMÆUS bearing the bow of ODYSSEUS steps from the
house as LAERTES runs away.
EUMÆUS
What hath been done?
ODYSSEUS
[Roars like one possessed.
My father, O my father!
They have beaten him! They have taken my old father
And beaten him! They have beaten my father!
Ah!
[Fully armed and proud of bearing, the wooers ANTINOOS,
AMPHINOMOS, KTESIPPOS and EURYMACHOS enter the open gate.
The most notable in appearance is the thirty-year old
ANTINOOS; after him EURYMACHOS.
EUMÆUS
Who of ye serfs against my stern command
Opened the gate?
NOAIMON
It was this wench that did it.
[He points to MELANTO.
EUMÆUS
Woman, who gave thee leave to do this thing?
MELANTO
I heard my father's voice and knew his call.
EUMÆUS
My call and not thy father's here is law,
Melanto. Take thy pack and go with him!
Follow thy father to that stead where he
Commands.
MELANTO
This was long since my wish, and I
Endured this place only by cruel force.
EUMÆUS
Then all the better.
MELANTEUS
She will go, O swineherd,
If these, the mighty princes, suffer it.
She bade them enter here with seemlier grace
Than thou, O serf, who deem'st thyself a lord.
KTESIPPOS
Ay, he's the servant of two bursting corses
Washed by the outer seas.
EUMÆUS
So let it be,
So and not otherwise, O Ktesippos!
I am content being aught but thy serf.
MELANTEUS
Did I report too much? Does this old man
Not speak in fearless and in shameless wise,
Weaving with words a noose for his own neck!
ANTINOOS
Enough. We are but modest guests, O swineherd.
Men say that thou art overwise, canst hear
The very acorns growing and the wheat.
Old women who in the city stir the refuse
For goodly bites forgotten call thee seer
And sacred, say thy daily vision proclaims
The awful ruler of men has come again,
And sees Odysseus landing on the isle,
A thing fit to make babes and sucklings scream.
But now: Ay, look upon me searchingly,
As though I were thy sphinx, O Oedipus
Of swine! For my mysterious questions are:
Knowest thou a man who dares, at dead of night,
Hunt heroes, princes, rulers of men as though
They were mere beasts of the forest?
EUMÆUS
Ay, by Zeus,
Well know I such a man. It is Odysseus.
ANTINOOS
Thou hast guessed wrongly, excellent Oedipus!
EUMÆUS
Ask then the driven princes after him!
ANTINOOS
If thou hast vision, why seest thou this not?
EUMÆUS
What wouldst thou that I see, Antinoos?
ANTINOOS
First, then, direct thy seeing eyes on me.
EUMÆUS
I do it not gladly but may not refuse.
ANTINOOS
What seest thou written on my brow, O herd?
EUMÆUS
If I were wise in reading, I would know.
ANTINOOS
Thy sentence, swineherd! Ay, thy death and doom!
If Zeus should make me ruler over ye,
I swear it by Styx! Hearest thou? Thou shalt swing!
EUMÆUS
I too shall hang thee once the lordship's mine.
[The wooers burst out into forced laughter.
EURYMACHOS
Antinoos, thy foe is witty.
KTESIPPOS
Knowest thou
What shall I do with thy old core, swineherd,
When I am lord here?
EUMÆUS
Nay, how should I know?
KTESIPPOS
I'll cry command: cast it before the swine!
EUMÆUS
Thou criest too much, Ktesippos, and too many
Cry out on thee. Spare thy voice yet awhile.
EURYMACHOS
Only remains for thee to know, O swineherd,
What I, being ruler here, shall ask of thee,
Thou mayest remain my friend, I'll give thee gold —
Thou'It give thy grandchild as my concubine.
AMPHINOMOS
Aha, where is that miracle of thine,
That nymph that will not let thee sleep?
KTESIPPOS
Even here.
[LEUCONE carrying an urn of water on her
shoulder crosses the courtyard.
ODYSSEUS
[With the terror of a madman throws himself at her feet.
O thou walking aloft, great sorceress,
Terrible goddess Circe, thou who changest
Into mere swine all whom thy magic lures,
Have pity upon the princes.
KTESIPPOS
This beggarman
Is mad.
LEUCONE
Alas, he speaks the truth, O princes.
But for this thing, that I am not the goddess,
Only the lofty lady's maiden — hers
Who has changed the Ithacans so fatally.
ANTINOOS
Behold the goddess in her anger. Did
Dædalus ever or anyone create
Of ivory and gold a form like hers?
ODYSSEUS
[With senile business runs to ANTINOOS and presses something into h
is hand.
Take this, O hero, swiftly and save thyself.
ANTINOOS
What would the childish old man?
ODYSSEUS
Close thy hand
And hold fast what thou hast and what I have Given, O prince.
EURYMACHOS
What gave he thee?
ANTINOOS
[Shows his empty hand.
There — naught!
ODYSSEUS
It was the herb called Moly which once Hermes
The divine messenger did give me who
With golden staff greeted me on Aeæa.
This is the isle of Circe, whose mother was
Perse, whose father was Oceanos!
The goddess' stables are full of swine who were
Great heroes once. Only the small herb Moly
Saved me from being equal to them in fate.
Give heed and ear, O heroes, also here
Resounds her loom. Fear then the sacred weaver's
Alluring song and draught of poisoned honey.
[LEUCONE has passed the scene and disappeared.
EURYMACHOS
Right art thou, O Antinoos, thou wouldst
Assume the inheritance of Telemach
Ere thou assumest what Odysseus left.
ANTINOOS
By Zeus almighty, my Eurymachos,
Thus shall it be. If ever she become
Thy concubine, I'll feed on Circe's grunters.
EUMÆUS
Wash lips and hands, O men, there is the jug
For cleansing.
AMPHINOMOS
That Pallas of thine bore
Swines' stomach and intestines
Across the courtyard!
KTESIPPOS
Pay thy court to her.
For that boy Telemach will not again
Warm her lone bed. The slain are but cold friends.
MELANTEUS
The swineherd knows this not. The boatmen crouch
Upon the strand, peer o'er the sea, await
His body floating, cireled o'er by vultures.
ODYSSEUS
[Calls.
Be wise, O friend, and give thy grandchild straight
As concubine to Antinoos the king.
EUMÆUS
He alone shall be king who bends this bow,
None other: 'tis the strong bow of Odysseus.
To him who bends him I myself will bow,
But to none other in the world.
ANTINOOS
'Tis well.
We are weary, swineherd, and would eat — naught else.
Thy wine and bread are good, Melanteus says.
Thou wouldst refuse us neither surely.
EUMÆUS
Zeus
Forbid! Nor unto you, nor to this beggar here.
KTESIPPOS
Let us go in to Telemach's funeral feast.
[The wooers enter the dwelling house. With them MELANTEUS and
EUMÆUS, who carries the bow of ODYSSEUS.
ODYSSEUS
[Calls out after them.
I counsel ye: take the herb Moly too!
[Gazing after them with fixed look, his attitude becomes
threatening: he seems to grow in stature. The slaughtered swine
is carried off by NOAIMON and other men-servants. By a
door, opposite to that through which the wooers have gone, enter TELEMACH a
nd LEUCONE.
TELEMACH
[Catches sight of ODYSSEUS who turns his back to him.
Who is this man?
LEUCONE
A stranger. Nay, the beggar
Who, but an hour ago, disturbed thy mood.
[ODYSSEUS, aware that he is observed, lets himself shrink into the
beggar again.
TELEMACH
'Tis true. Mine eyes dazzle. Almost I saw
A Heracles in this poor fellow's rags.
Thy message has perturbed my grieving soul.
LEUCONE
[Holding his hand soothingly.
O Telemach, a soul perturbed works ill.
Stay! Go not in the hall to meet those men;
For they are feigning thou art lost and drowned.
Perchance false news misleads them. Yet, who knows?
Their eyes are full of treachery and fear.
TELEMACH
When in my mother's hall in time now past,
Before I went to Sparta, I beheld
The wooers — among wolves I was a lamb.
Now I hate all, as doth the wolf the lamb.
I go. Let them behold that I still live.
LEUCONE
Although thou be a wolf, these are not lambs.
Thy father was Athena's darling. Be
Still mindful of the goddess and of him
Who in disguise and cunning was a master.
TELEMACH
And why climbed they the hills unto your house?
LEUCONE
To learn this let us practice patience now.
TELEMACH
No more of patience! Is it not enough
That these fell hounds defile my father's house
And void their rheum upon its pictured walls?
It is enough, the evil that they do;
That in the royal palace of my sire,
Beloved, sacred and incomparable,
The shame of all our race is blended with
The offal of their bodies thrice accursed,
And drips from holy columns of the hall.
O unendurable ill! If I but see
Afar that radiant and dishonoured roof,
A madness seizes me, the bitter gall
Throttles me; black with grief and throbbing rage
I see the world. No more! No more! Speak not
Of patience unto me. I have suffered much.
I will go in. I will go in and slay.
They shall not lie upon my track, they shall not
Seek out my scent as though I were a deer,
Or dig into my hiding place as though
I were a badger!
[He rushes forward.
ODYSSEUS
[Bars his way.
Seest thou not behind thee
The admonishing goddess bright?
TELEMACH
Who art thou, man?
And who the goddess that thou seest?
ODYSSEUS
Her
Who sprang full-armed from the broad head of Zeus.
LEUCONE
Hold not this man's monition of no worth,
O dearest one! Confused by age and grief,
Yet is he stirred at times by impulses
Of holy madness, seeing the face of gods.
ODYSSEUS
Yea, I see gods walking upon the earth.
TELEMACH
Art thou beyond thy seeming? If thou art
A seer whom the master that he served
Cast forth for evil presage — speak thy name!
Art thou a friend of the gods? Then be mine too.
ODYSSEUS
Oh, call me No one, boy, for I am No one.
TELEMACH
Thou art not No one, nor am I a boy.
Then go thy way.
ODYSSEUS
No one slew Polyphemus!
No one is wily as thy father was.
TELEMACH
Zeus light this madman's mind.
ODYSSEUS
May he do so,
In truth, the ruler of gods and men!
TELEMACH
And mine!
ODYSSEUS
The minds of father and son, O Telemach!
TELEMACH
[Involuntarily, struck by the voice of the beggar.]
Who calls?
ODYSSEUS
Why dost thou shrink and start,
When No one calls? Because in secret thoughts
Thou hast betrayed this No one. Thou wouldst rule!
Thou wert a boy when oft this No one called
Thee by thy name and thou madst answer:
"Father!"
What glittered in thy eyes but murder when
Thou spokest of his death. But No one lives!
He is not dead! He yearns to see again
The goddess and command as in old times
That which is his by right. And this same No one
Loves thee! And like thine own his tongue doth cleave,
Dry with great bitterness unto his throat,
The while, like thee, he marks his house's shame
Deep in his heart. Black murder hurtles o'er
This No one's head. Give thou his bow to him
Which no one bends but No one; he will choose
So many arrows and dip them in the black,
Foul blood of lecherous men as there are now
Wooers about thy mother in the palace.
TELEMACH
Who art thou?
ODYSSEUS
One who is desperate. Farewell!
TELEMACH
Remain! Or go! Go, and return no more.
ODYSSEUS
Ay, boy, thou art right. Thrust me in the abyss!
Why not, in truth? Is not the round o' the earth
Narrow enough for those who live? Is not
Most precious every span of the good mould
The sun god kisses? What were left of earth
Did once the hemmed in flood of the dark world
Of Styx and Acheron pour over it
Its unimaginable sea of dead?
By Acheron, there let them rest, the dead.
For there they lie, heaped to the very moon
Which with a flickering light abominable
And full of fear lights faintly hill and dale
Lifeless, void even of a vulture's wing!
There is my place and no one strives with me.
TELEMACH
[To LEUCONE.
Go, lass, and leave me with this man alone.
[Walking slowly backwards, LEUCONE withdraws.
TELEMACH
[Continuing.
When first I saw thee, I was inly moved
Half by compassion, half by horror too.
The road's filth clings to thee, thine eyes protrude
From red-rimmed hollows and thine eye-brows are
Bushy and grey with dust. Thy beard grown wild
Has been unshorn for many, many years.
Thy rags scarce cover thee, thy body is
Emaciated with hunger and with sickness,
And bent by age. And the words of thy mouth
Are stammering. A wheezing, whistling breath
Forces its way from thine old breast. Thou starest
Into the air grinning or blind of soul;
And now again thou bleatest like a beast,
Reft of all sense, possessed, degraded, bound
By madness in deep, incurable, black night.
But suddenly at times it seems to me
That thou art neither helpless, old nor poor,
That from the inmost places of thy soul
Beckons some mystic good—a wisdom breaks,
A truth through the delusion and the snares
Which meet mine eye and fill me with disgust.
And therefore, if thou hast a word to speak,
Speak it! If messages are thine, proclaim them!
For of this island I am king and lord
Strong to command and to protect thee too.
ODYSSEUS
If of this island thou art king and lord,
I am a beggar truly, unless thou
Wilt swathe me in thy purple, and wilt seat me
Upon that golden chair which is thy throne.
O Telemach, from that exalted seat
Truly would I arise in godlike ire,
Arise and stretch myself and stand revealed
In argent armour clanging death and doom,
As the avenger—called Odysseus once.
Why dost thou tremble?
TELEMACH
[Pale.
'Tis thy madness, friend,
That dares assume my father's sacred might.
And also at that hero whose high fame
Unreachable did strike thine eyes with blindness
And shook the firm foundations of thy soul.
ODYSSEUS
My fame is the possession of strange men,
O Telemach, friend of his fame, and not
Of him, thy father! But thou are too young
To know what fame is in this world, what are
A man and a man's fate by gods assigned,
And how the world, the gods must change for him,
And how the world, the gods must change him too,
Ere he is ripe for death that draweth night.
I tell thee, if thy father came again,
Thou wouldst not know him and not recognise.
TELEMACH
The first glance of mine eyes would know him straight.
ODYSSEUS
I swear to thee by Zeus, thou wouldst not see,
Not hear thy father, though he stood before thee
Even as I do now and spake with thee.
TELEMACH
And I swear also by the Thunderer
That I would know him at the slightest word
That his lips uttered!
ODYSSEUS
[With a dreadful smile.
Yet thou knowest me not?
[LEUCONE returns.
LEUCONE
I could not stay afar from thee; thou must
Learn of the miracle which came to pass
Even while thou wert speaking with our guest.
Certain it is: he brings us good, not ill.
For months have passed since a great drouth laid waste
The soil upon our isle; the hollow bed
Of rivers is dry dust strewn by the winds.
Naught but some sparing, hidden rill hath run.
Also this farmstead, waterless so long,
Was hard put to it with its multitude
Of men and beasts tormented by grim thirst.
Suddenly gushes and sparkles all about
Through every runlet the crystalline stream,
And even this through of stone doth overflow.
Here too the life-giving wells awaken! Look!
[She points out to TELEMACH the well which is beginning to flow
mightily.
About thirty shepherds, serfs of EUMAEUS, come hastening in
with laughter and loud, happy talk. Without paying attention to
anything else they hasten to the well to slake their thirst.
Each is eager to drink first; they thrust one another from
the well, drink from the spout or from their hollow hands, and in their delight
sprinkle one another with water.
[Among the shepherds are GLAUKOS, LYKURGOS, IDOMENEUS, HECTOR,
LAMON, DRYAS, EUPHORION.
[NOAIMON and MELANTO join them.
LYKURGOS
The nymphs have hastened on, far, far ahead.
Behold how here the cool well gushes forth.
DRYAS
This is a miracle indeed, O youth.
'Tis true, for days above Nereiton's peaks
Rumbled Kronion's thunder, but till now
No drop of water fell from the hot blue
Or sickered from the skeleton of earth.
NOAIMON
Who called me hither, youths, unto this place?
LYKURGOS
The sacred nymphs who guard the well—none else.
DRYAS
A voice did call me in the wood below
And bade me fare unto this spot.
EUPHORION
Me too.
IDOMENEUS
The self-same voice did bring me to this place.
LAMON
O shepherds, while afar among my boars
I lay and rested in the vale of pines
The voice ye speak of also called me here.
MELANTO
How is't that ye all hasten here at once?
ALL
Strange as it is to thee, it was to us,
When at the gate suddenly we did meet.
MELANTO
Ye prate of voices of invisible ones!
Ye are but flies that scent the butcher's block.
IDOMENEUS
[Who has been wandering through the adjoining court-yards now
returns. With lifted hands he turns about as in a dance.
O nymphs! O Pan! Wreathe ivy about your heads.
Eumæus has killed the swine. Out in the orchard
Fragrant it turns upon the glowing spit,
And filled with thyme, the incense smoke ascends.
ALL
[Exaltedly.
O nymphs! O Pan!
DRYAS
Where is another master
Like ours, or one so brave of heart, who shares
All good things with his people, not alone
The bitter toil and sweat.
EUPHORION
[Places a gnarled piece of wood near the well on an elevation.
Be thou Priapus!
Come, let us dance, O youths! Let Glaucos put
The flutes unto his lips in honour of Pan,
In honour of the beneficent return
Of the kind nymphs, the daughters of high Zeus.
So that the holy nymphs may know forever
How welcome they unto the meanest are,
And how in piety and kindliness
We dwell forever mindful of their gifts.
ALL
[Dancing about the rude symbol of Priapus.
A Priapean song! A song of nymphs!
In honour of Zeus, and of the nymphs and Pan!
LEUCONE
[To ODYSSEUS who is weeping silently.
Why dost thou weep among the shepherds glad?
ODYSSEUS
Shall not he weep to whom the heavenly powers
Show in a mirror all that he hath lost.
I was like them. My golden homeland gave
Me golden fruits and draughts of golden wine
And golden happiness. Did I, since faring
From that dear land, draw nearer to the gods?
Oh, these live in communion with great Pan
Forever. And they guard their flocks, and he
The shepherds' shepherd hath them in his care.
While the great slaughter raged at Ilion,
There grew this seed of youths on the untouched
Inviolate mountains of the mother isle.
Are they the same that once I dragged afar
To the great battle of men in Asia
And who have risen again like blades of wheat
After the reaper bared the meadows? Nay!
They know me not! The dear companions whom
I thrust into the night return no more.
[From beyond the court-yard there is heard the soft, long drawn out
blowing of a horn. The shepherds interrupt their dance.
HECTOR
Hear ye the soft, low music of the horn?
ALL
What is it? Whether comes he? Me he wakened
At night and frightened me and all my herd:
Now sounded from the earth, now from the clouds.
At times the night, even while his music blew,
Was dipped in sudden, brief and silent light.
HECTOR
Trust an old swineherd's wisdom. There's no hill
Upon the earth but may Olympus be,
If gods desire it and the wise man see,
Where they may gather and their councils hold.
The immortal messenger fits to and fro.
The cloud thunders, the smoke upon the height
Rises. The swallow circles. The sheep bay
Wolf-like, and in the harbour the Old Man
O' the sea from the salt flood rears his white head.
This happened once before on Ithaca,
Then when Oydsseus our great king fared forth
To Ilion. Ah, he returned no more.
Then did the peasant see Demeter tall
Stride through the unripe corn: saw Pallas lean
Full-armed against the sacred poplar-tree.
Pan raged through the slim pipes even as to-day,
As though the green reed were a shepherd's horn.
And these things have a meaning, be assured.
ODYSSEUS
[Steps among the shepherds with the gestures of a blind man.
Shepherds, Apollo robbed me of the light
And drew over mine eyes a horny rind:
But in exchange he gave me second sight.
Hear me! I know and feel what is to come.
It is the horn of the embattled Pan
To whom ye raised a sanctuary high
On Kora cliff. For did ye not yourselves
Give unto Pan the name of warlike there?
Then take your arms. Let each man fetch his spear,
And when Eumæus, who is your master, calls,
Then be prepared and rush upon the foe!
MELANTO
Beggarly rogue! Thou scurfy and accursed
Ragged, malodorous, repulsive wretch!
Hasten and get thee gone from this court-yard,
If thou wouldst not that I tear out thy tongue,
Malevolent, cunning, treacherous hound! Oh, they
Shall learn of thy vile plotting, for thou art
A venomous viper. They shall learn from me,
The princes, who do honour to this house
And are even now within. Wait thou! A noose
Is twisted soon enough, and thou shalt swing,
Thou creeping spy, soon from the nearest peartree.
ODYSSEUS
Put her in bonds, bind her with thongs! Then cast her
Into a prison impenetrable of light.
And Zeus himself commands ye do this thing.
[The lightning flashes, and almost simultaneously it thunders. The
shepherds bend as under the lash of a whip and do as they are commanded. MELA
NTO, paralysed with terror, is dragged away.— The rolling of
subterranean thunder.
ODYSSEUS
Poseidon, dost thou answer that dread god
Who nods and grants my will with lofty brow?
Answerest thou the wielder of the bolt
Defiant with ancient anger from thy depths
With rolling thunder? Dost thou stain the sea
Black in thy powerless rage? Here do I stand,
And care not for thy threat. For on the sea,
Even thy sea, lies Pallas' argent shield
And gleams unto me though the night be dark.
Let the long shoreline thunder, terrible god,
And yellow fumes arise! Roll on, roll on
In bitter, measureless ire thy massive slabs
Of blackish green and ponderous ore and break them
Even to powdery dust against the cliffs.
I hate thee and I mock thy power from this
Sure promontory which thou canst not devour.
'Tis well! Raise thou thy mountainous waves!
'Tis well,
Thou toothless, envious, ever surging god—
More crone than god! To suffer more I have
Suffered too deep! I am here, whate'er betide.
[He falls upon his face and remains lying motionless. In
the meantime a storm has arisen and gloomy, sulphurous light
spreads about. Weak lightning and the mere muttering of
thunder. Clouds are formed and move in the sky
gigantically like dark and dislimning
mountains. Except ODYSSEUS only TELEMACH and LEUCONE have remained
in the courtyard.
TELEMACH
Where is he? Swallowed him the earth?
LEUCONE
Ah, no!
He prays, it seems, unto the heavenly ones.
TELEMACH
And does he beg them to wipe out the curses
Which he has uttered here?
LEUCONE
O Telemach
He is a seer possessed by some high god.
He foams at the mouth and writhes convulsively.
TELEMACH
And earth herself quivers! My head goes round!
LEUCONE
O Telemach, is this no half-god who
Drew lightning on his head?
TELEMACH
Ah woe!
LEUCONE
To whom
The father of the gods did lend his bolt
At mere beseeching?
TELEMACH
Woe! Woe!
LEUCONE
Terrible
Was his rebellion. Yet the spear I hold
Began to glow while his wild words burst forth.
I felt my stature grow, it seemed I wore
Helmet and shield to fight beside him though
'Twere even against gods. So mighty is
His sorrow that it shames the unjust gods.
TELEMACH
Zeus! Wielder of lightning! Thou didst make of me
A man but to unman me straight again.
Why didst thou send this terrible sorcerer
Lending him even thy thunder? All too bright
A flare strikes us with blindness, all too loud
A thunder awakens not but makes us dead.
O sacred spaces of earth! To flee to you!
Were his long wanderings truly at an end,
His whose dread name I would not call, then is
This garden of errors which we call the world
A void at last. Anew the gods require
A plaything! Away! For I will serve their ends.
LEUCONE
O Telemach, thou art so changed, so changed.
TELEMACH
I grasp about me, tottering, helpless, weak.
THE FOURTH ACT
The same scene as in the second act, the hall of stone with the long
table.
EUMÆUS and EURYCLEA.
EURYCLEA
[Hastening in in mad terror.
What was the meaning of that fearful stroke?
EUMÆUS
[Who busies himself with the bow of ODYSSEUS.
'Tis right so. For the earth pants, and my herds Need water. The
heavenly Zeus has gathered now
For weeks his clouds and silently made darkness
About Nereiton's forest-covered peak.
And I am glad to hear from out that night
The lightning and the thunder crash at last.
EURYCLEA
[Fearfully.
There is a stench of sulphur and of burning.
EUMÆUS
[Grimly.
Right so. The heavenly one would drive with smoke
The wild blasphemers.
EURYCLEA
O good herdsman, hide me,
If, as they say, the wooers are in the house.
For I, the oldest nurse, in truth am not
Too humble to arouse their hate and more
The malice of their distrust.
EUMÆUS
Fear not, old friend!
They hurl the discus in the court without
And greedily drink the black wine of my casks.
EURYCLEA
And is Eurymachos among them?
EUMÆUS
Ay.
EURYCLEA
If he beheld me here my doom were sealed.
He blames me that the creature of his lust,
Melanto, is not suffered by the queen
Longer to bide with her and dwells with thee.
EUMÆUS
Thus did Leucone draw Antinoos;
Thus did Melanto lure Eurymachos
About my head, also the treacherous
Father of the loose wench. Thus, as thou seest,
High honours hurtle on my humble roof.
Were they wild boars, I'd stick them in my stys
To fatten there. But they are only men,
And evil men, good flesh and blood gone wrong.
EURYCLEA
Have my ass brought me, swineherd, I must away.
I can bide here no longer, for fear drives me —
Fear of both gods and men; also the joy
Over the home-coming of Telemachus
Whereof I would take news unto the queen.
EUMÆUS
Now hail and rain are rattling on the roof!
Tarry until the storm has passed away.
EURYCLEA
Far rather would I trust myself to Zeus
Than to the hands of bitter, vengeful men.
EUMÆUS
I will unbar for thee the little gate
And lead thee down the path cut in the rocks
Secretly to the holy olive tree
Where, at my bidding, wait the boy and ass.
[He opens the latch of a closed side door.
EURYCLEA
Swift, swineherd! nay! Hold yet! A bitter care
Gnaws at my heart. What fate will be Laertes'?
EUMÆUS
Thou canst not hold him! If thou graspest him
Like to a sick old eagle, to be locked
In a harsh cage, his heart will surely break.
Let him be friended by the daughters of Zeus,
The goddesses who dwell not under roof,
And rest on foliage of the vine. He knows
That gods and shepherds are his constant friends
And that my poor, tried soul is true to him.
[He opens the door and most, cleansed air and a great
clearness stream in.
EUMÆUS
Behold how Iris's iridescent bow
Vaults over all. Does not one end of it
Rest on our king's house? Glittering in its light
We see the golden stones. The other end
Rests upon Kora and the sacred tree
Of high Athena: is not the far-seen spot
Hidden in glowing light? Ah, tell me what
Dost thou desire, O fearful one! For I
See here an omen bringing us happiness.
[He shows EURYCLEA the bow of ODYSSEUS.
The thunderer's daughter is not idle! That
Dear goddess who, above all other gods,
Loves our lost king. Never before saw I
So many day owls on her olive trees
Gather. Never arose so many times
As now that heavenly one from the clear night
And stood in all my dreams with spear and shield.
About our stead she walks: almost each day
A shepherd tells me he has seen her form
Holding her vigil amid herds afar.
And thus she bade me fetch Odysseus' bow,
With speech that made no sound, because the words
Of the immortals are death to mortal man.
And now the bow awaits its archer here.
[EUMÆUS, accompanied by EURYCLEA, goes out
through the side gate which remains open. Immediately
thereafter come from the rear TELEMACH and LEUCONE.
LEUCONE
Not thus, not thus, beloved!
TELEMACH
O LEUCONE,
How void of knowledge of himself is man.
LEUCONE
But whither wouldst thou go afar from here?
TELEMACH
What matters it? Wherever home is not!
There I would find myself, my father's star
Would shine upon my young, blind liberty.
And if thou'rt brave enough, thou'lt go with me.
LEUCONE
Thou hast nor ship nor men to row it.
TELEMACH
One
Light solitary nod from me and they
Will crowd aboard who followed me to Pylos,
And landed in the harbour but this hour.
A crumbling heritage shall I await,
When the illimitable beckons me
And waits for me with its unmeasured wealth?
LEUCONE
If thou but knowest how my soul is pained,
How bitterly whenever thou speakest thus.
TELEMACH
Because more than with boys I played with thee,
My mother thinks, and so dost thou, Leucone,
That I am of the stuff of girls and not
Of virile stripe. Ye are wrong! I am a man!
In truth, I had no father when I stood
In need of one, grew up an orphan, lapped
In the effeminate nursing of a widow.
Yet Zeus forgot me not: he knows my heart.
'Tis ye would know me not nor understand,
Ye women, and above all others: thou!
For, shall I beg? How often have I not
Sought warmth of thy cool sweetness, sought in vain?
What hast thou given me? A light caress,
Or an admonishing kiss upon my brow,
Soothing me as thou wouldst a troubled child.
And yet it was for thy sake, thine alone,
That I returned to this curse-laden isle.
Oh that the sea devoured it on this day.
[He embraces LEUCONE and weeps.
LEUCONE
O Telemach, come to thyself, thou art
Like Aiolos, god of the storms, whom ever
His own storms grasp and lift and whirl through space.
What has uprooted all thy soul, sweet friend?
TELEMACH
It is this beggar who has wrought upon me
Strong as a daemon, and I am helpless quite.
For if a man comes with a croaking, hoarse
Abominable voice, a stranger, worse!
A filthy beggar, who presses close to me,
Beats in the sacred gateway of my soul,
And says ... and says ... with impudent glance, or else
With a wild, tameless flashing of command:
"I have come to rule within thy soul, being
Thy father, thy commander and thy god!"
If this betide — death's cloud sinks down on me
Or else the Atridan madness fierce with blood.
LEUCONE
Not so! Speak thou not so, O Telemach!
Whatever that man be, or god, or daemon,
Let us not judge but still await the event.
At his approach the barren springs flowed free,
And all he did, mysterious though it seem,
Yet proved to be of good and not of ill.
And he hates the destroyers of thy house.
If he return — which is not sure at all,
For like the mist he melted into air —
We must with care test all his words and acts.
For this is true: the world swarms with deceivers.
And this no less true, that the cunninger
Is still the greater, and the wiliest
Greatest of all. Therefore must we beware.
Yet Telemach, if ever the great gods
Send him, the mightiest man of all men, home —
As the dark presage of this house foretells —
Then wilt thou too come home unto thyself,
Come home, not flee, nor with thy filial love
Beautiful turned awry or to despair,
Wander afar in self-inflicted pain.
[With a sudden gesture TELEMACH has freed himself from LEUCONE
and has grasped the bow of ODYSSEUS. In vain he seeks to bend the bow.
EUMÆUS returns through the open door and, seeing the efforts of
TELEMACH, laughs heartily. He raises his hand and points to the landscape.
EUMÆUS
Behold the rainbow yonder, Telemach!
More easily the god bends it than thou
Thine own.
TELEMACH
[Throws the bow from him.
Away! It is not mine!
EUMÆUS
It is!
And on a day the string will twang and thou
Wilt be the bender of the mighty bow.
TELEMACH
It is full of sorcery: it is full of ill.
A daemon stiffens it who is my foe.
[Almost weeping with rage and humiliation he goes to the open door and
gazes into the distance.
EUMÆUS
[Softly to LEUCONE.
What troubles him? What omen of ill saw he?
LEUCONE
Ah, that I knew this thing myself, grandfather.
For all his new, strong, manly mood is spent.
When first he learned from me that all the wildest
Among his mother's wooers were within,
He wished to plunge among them with his sword.
And ah, perhaps 'twas wrong that I restrained him.
And then there was this beggar. O grandfather,
Who is this man beseeching help of us
Whose voice summons the heavenly fires, whose glance
Resting on the young hero Telemach
Strikes him with fear of death?
EUMÆUS
What sayest thou?
LEUCONE
Know'st thou that he assumes Odysseus' name?
EUMÆUS
[Startled.
Who doth assume Odysseus' name, sayest thou?
LEUCONE
The beggar who come into the house at noon.
EUMÆUS
And are ye all of reason so devoid
That the poor wanderer's piteous madness haunts ye?
Do I not know my lord, O foolish children?
Did I not hunt with him and fish and see him
A thousand times in sport on the wide fields?
Did not one mantle cover us at night
When in the mountains we pursued the wolves?
O inexperienced! This impoverished isle,
If ever it felt the tread of his strong feet
Its deeps would tremble and proclaim him king.
LEUCONE
The deeps tremble ... the very pebbles dance!
EUMÆUS
And though he came endowed with the strange power
Of Proteus, the old sea-god, and could change
His form into a stone or beast or plant,
Or bird or fish ... my eye would search him forth!
Odysseus could not hide himself from me.
TELEMACH
Good father herdsman, art thou so very sure?
'Twas but of late when in the Spartan land
Helen, at Menelaos' board, related
How through the gates of Troy my father crept
Irrecognisable. The mighty one
Assumed a beggar's aspect horrible,
Seemed ill and weak, a raucous, hollow cough
Wheezed from his stricken chest: his eyes ran rheum.
EUMÆUS
'Tis madness! But where is the man? Your minds
Feel the confusion of a fateful time.
[ODYSSEUS re-enters from the adjoining room at the rear. He seems to
have grown taller and mightier, but still walks somewhat bent and heavy and
silent, like a gigantic goblin of the forest. His forehead and eyes show an exp
ression of still, repressed rage, beyond which lies the shadow of a terrible
smile. The dusk has fallen.
TELEMACH
[Frightened.
The dæmon! Am I alone the seeing one?
Or do ye also see what rises there?
EUMÆUS
[Consciously acting unembarrassed.
'Tis well that I discover thee, old man.
Princes have come to be our guests to-day:
Show thou thy usefulness when they're at board,
And that the darkness may not hide their mouths
Guard thou the light and feed the fire with logs.
TELEMACH
He grows, expands! He fills the very house,
Wherein no one but he can longer breathe!
EUMÆUS
[Fearfully.
He speaks not. Maiden, speak thou unto him!
LEUCONE
Wilt thou then guard the fire, O strange, old man?
[ODYSSEUS approaches the fire-place.
LEUCONE
[Uncertainly.
Why ask him further? See, he will do it now.
[NOAIMON enters. His apron is spattered with blood: his head is
wreathed with ivy. Through the door which he has left open one may hear singing
and the music of the pipes of Pan.
NOAIMON
[Red with fire and wine, vigorously.
The meat is done. The banquet may begin.
EUMÆUS
Thou has wreathed thine head Noaimon; cause also
Ivy-wreathes for the wooers to be cut.
NOAIMON
Ivy-wreaths for blasphemers? If I must!
TELEMACH
Go, call the all-voracious to the board,
That they may gather at Odysseus' feast
And gorge themselves with all his garnered wealth.
[NOAIMON withdraws.
And now, thou beggar! Take it that to-day
Is Kronos' day of mummery and license!
Kronos devoured his children, as thou knowest!
But on this day the master serves the slave,
And the low slave is master o'er his lord.
And so command me wholly! At the board
Shall I help crowd the spoilers of our goods,
Or go and hide me in the sty with swine?
Thou shakest thy head, then noddest: it is well.
I will obey as doth the dog his master.
[Swiftly he goes out through the same door by which NOAIMON has
gone.
EUMÆUS
[To ODYSSEUS
If this is to be Kronos' day, fire-guardian,
And even our ruler young obeys thy voice —
Command us, too! Shall I obey the wild
Cry of the wooers? Must Leucone go
And be the handmaid of their gluttony?
ODYSSEUS
[Mysteriously and awe-inspiring.
What is't? There stares the maid! There stares the slave!
And still the maid stares and the slave! They know not,
Neither knows what to do! Girl, art thou blown
Of fine Phœnician glass, and wilt thou break
If but a prince regards thee? One of them
Whom thy own queen Penelope doth deem
Worth of her familiar friendship?
[The wild and empty laughter of the wooers is heard from afar.
Go!
And when the flame leaps up, return! Obey!
[EUMÆUS and LEUCONE withdraw to the right and go out into the
courtyard. The door at the left which EUMÆUS unlatched is now ajar.
From the rear room come the wooers, heated with wine and gaming: ANTINOOS, AM
PHINOMOS, EURYMACHOS, KTESIPPOS. As they enter they are startled for a
moment and cease from laughing.
ANTINOOS
A sweetish smell as in a slaughter-house.
EURYMACHOS
And darkness of the very grave itself.
KTESIPPOS
Would they make wretched gulls of us, these herders
Of swine in that they are invisible?
And would this slavish crowd lift up their heads
Defying and affronting rightful lords?
EURYMACHOS
Why doubt it, seeing the example set
But lately by Eumæus' haughty self.
KTESIPPOS
Why is the swineherd to be seen no more?
ANTINOOS
[Seeing ODYSSEUS by the fire.
What would ye more? There's the man spake of Moly!
The master's worthy substitute is he.
AMPHINOMOS
This is a nest of vermin, a breeding-place
Of malice and of treachery against us:
If ever ill betide 'twill spring from here.
ANTINOOS
The watchdog of the flock hates not the wolf
More bitterly than this though herd us princes.
Consider closely — he is in the right.
Were he my serf and clung with faithfulness
So deep to me, as he doth to Odysseus
And unto Telemach, the effeminate boy,
And guarded so the treasures of my house,
God knows that he should be my friend, not serf.
EURYMACHOS
ANTINOOS is in his melting mood,
When it delights him to caress small children,
And with a lullaby sing them to sleep.
It is a mood that passes. Tell me, princes,
Seems it to thee that Telemach is still
Hidden somewhere about the farmstead here?
ANTINOOS
Fortune, I think, was with him on his voyage.
AMPHINOMOS
Never forget why we are here, O princes,
Nor hold this boyis Telemach as naught!
He creeps about gaining him newer friends.
How do we know he ever put to sea?
ANTINOOS
He sailed! No one may doubt of that!
AMPHINOMOS
And so
By Zeus he may return and bring with him
A line of Grecian ships unto this isle.
What then?
ANTINOOS
A bloody combat in which he
Who proves the stronger holds the field — naught else.
EURYMACHOS
Where is Melanto? Since just now I saw her
Out in the open she has vanished quite
And has not reappeared. The wench is true
To me! If I speak with her I know all,
Even whether Telemach is in the house.
KTESIPPOS
Princes, ye carry swords! Why grasp ye not
The tricky peasants with a stronger hand,
As their desert and custom teaches them.
When they appear lay hold on them! If they
Keep silence wrench their useless necks at last.
And if they hide, harry them forth from stays
Of swine, or rooms, or even from their beds
And make them serviceable with a staff.
[He roars and beats on the table.
What ho! Within there!
[The fire in the fire place flares up and illuminates the room
that has been growing darker and darker. Now through the gate to the
yard the wooers' feast is brought in. GLAUKOS leads the
procession, playing upon the flutes. DRYAS follows,
carrying upon his head the roasted swine's flesh: then
comes LAMON with a mighty wineskin, LEUCONE
with a ewer of water for laving the hands,
and NOAIMON with cups and ivywreaths. EUMÆUS comes last of all.
KTESIPPOS
'Tis well for the that thou rememberedst us!
EUMÆUS
It was the thunderous weather that delayed us;
The blessed water fell and quenched our fires.
But well may we forgive it, for it is
So deep desired by all the famished land.
EURYMACHOS
Where is the handmaiden Melanto, herd?
Why serves she not at table as was long
Her wont and ours at the high palace board?
EUMÆUS
For nothing shall ye want even wanting her.
EURYMACHOS
A subterfuge! Where is she! Tell me that!
EUMÆUS
Did I but know it I would tell thee straight.
ANTINOOS
[As LEUCONE pours the water over his hands.
Lovely Leucone, why do thine eyes show tears?
Because the youngster Telemach doth not well
And with his manhood vagrant passion shows?
Console thyself! Thus are we all.
KTESIPPOS
I thought
That she and Telemach are like the doves
Of Aphrodite, quite inseparable.
AMPHINOMOS
Are, lord? They were! They are no more today.
For now his body the Ionian sea
Washes about, and fish and gull fight for it.
Or dost thou deem thy lover still alive?
Perhaps thou hidest him in thy little room
Secreted, the companion of thy childhood?
We will not hurt him. Send him calmly forth.
ANTINOOS
Assume the wreaths, O princes, drive forth sorrow.
Not despicable is Eumæus' feast.
[GLAUKOS plays the pipes. The wooers place wreathes about their
temples and begin to feast.
EURYMACHOS
[Stubbornly, as LEUCONE is about to place the wreath upon
his brow.
MELANTO and not thou shall wreathe my head.
The robust milkmaid who from her she-goats brings
The odour of Pan hid in her earthy hair!
And so, for the last time, swine-herd: Where is she?
[He has hurled the wreath aside. MELANTEUS comes in
greatly excited.
MELANTEUS
Princes, I bid ye know that in these walls
Treachery lies in wait! The while ye feast
Malevolent violence is practiced here.
Behold how pale he grows, the swineherd there —
He, the vile tool of that pernicious race
That under the very course of all the gods
Still clings to its accursed blasphemous life.
[They have all jumped up except ANTINOOS.
ANTINOOS
Do not disturb our feasting. What is wrong?
MELANTEUS
Melanto, lord, my daughter, lies in bonds
Watched by the herdsmen who are bearing arms.
They have thrust a cruel gag into her mouth
That she, the ever faithful unto ye,
Might not betray the treachery that's here.
EUMÆUS
My lords, if that this goatherd does not lie
Whose vengeful hatred hounds me through the years —
If he speaks truth, I am guiltless of the deed.
But lies are all his words, barbed to destroy me.
We hanged his brother, for that he in secret
Pillaged the goatherds of our lord and prince
And sold his booty to the sea-robbers.
It is not strange that now he plots my death.
[EURYMACHOS who has hastened out upon the complaint of
the goatherd returns now with MELANTO. The girl is thoroughly exhausted.
ODYSSEUS
Look not on me, I am a raving fool,
A madman void of reason, let me be!
Look not on me but put the fetters on me!
EURYMACHOS
[His voice choked with rage.
Tell us but this: Who gave the vile command?
And though it were Eumæus, even he,
This night would see him stark in certain death.
MELANTO
[Stretches out her hand toward ODYSSEUS.
'Twas he who stands beside the fire — the beggar!
ODYSSEUS
[With rolling eyes, feigning madness.
He who brought down the seed of flame from heaven
Wherefrom the blossoms of the fire sprang, was
Prometheus! Lo, I pluck the blossoms! Lo,
I gather flowers!
[He pretends to pluck the flames as though they were flowers.
ANTINOOS
[Who, like AMPHINOMOS, breaks out into loud laughter.
And so, Eurymachos,
Thou wilt not harm this gatherer of flowers.
Unknowing, weak of mind, who did the deed!
Them who obeyed him we must drag forth and slay,
For folly grown too mighty, waxeth dangerous.
KTESIPPOS
[Hurls a wooden stool at ODYSSEUS which the latter parries with
his arm.
Stamp into earth this raging vermin, lords,
Of madness which spews high its venomous foam;
Else ye give freedom to all blasphemies.
ODYSSEUS
[With a terrible smile.
Knowest thou, man, whom thou affrontest thus?
KTESIPPOS
As I consider, mangy fellow, thou
Art one o' the gods escaped from high Olympus,
And holy madness fills thy brain as full
As swollen beans fill full a pot of clay:
'Twere to be wished the brittle shard would burst.
EURYMACHOS
[Who has given MELANTO great draughts of wine.
Recover, my good child; come to thyself.
ANTINOOS
And do ye princes now wax sane once more.
And let us laugh at Pan, the frolicsome,
Who did confuse and trick these maids and serfs
Even as is seemly. His gamesome mood should not
Embitter with fear a hero's festal meal.
MELANTO
Trust not this beggar who but feigns confusion.
He is a spy, a creeping traitor, quite
As clear and apt in mind as any one.
And what is more: if ye have not yet learned,
Nor other wooers in the palace know it:
I bid ye know that Telemach is hid
Here in this stead, returning safe and hale.
And that is why they cruelly fettered me
So that my arms are numb, and gagged my mouth,
That I might not bring warning to your ears.
Behold the swineherd! Mark his trembling lip!
And see Leucone's changing mien and hue!
AMPHINOMOS
Behold, who spake the truth? Is he within?
MELANTO
Ask me, my lords! Treachery is alive!
[From the mountains the sound of the horn is heard again.
It hollows out the earth on which ye stride.
Hear ye the blowing in the mountains? Lo,
Sounds it not like the horn of warlike Pan?
'Tis naught else than the pipe of that bad, old
And childish man Laertes, who incites
The herdsmen in the hills to treachery.
Beware! Be on your guard! Lay not aside
The weapons, princes, where ye follow me.
ANTINOOS
Lo, a Cassandra risen from the sty!
If she has so much breath for prophecy,
Let her the nymph song sing or featly dance
To the flute's music: first of all let her
Crown thee, Eurymachos, as thou desiredst.
And now, if Telemach is truly here,
It is but just that unto him his guests
Grudge not a crust of bread from his own board.
Go swineherd, bid him to the table come!
Tell him I am not Kronos nor devour
Children but as sea-famine's last resort.
[The wooers have burst out into loud laughter. Now appears, with
dignity and freedom of carriage, TELEMACH, entering from the court.
A silence falls.
TELEMACH
I greet ye, worthy princes, and I bid
Ye welcome at my board and at my feast.
ANTINOOS
Most gently said. We thank thee, little man.
Behold he left his white, fair skin in Sparta,
And with a bronzed and ruddy look returns
Unto his fatherland.
AMPHINOMOS
And who looks close
O friends, may even discover, by high Zeus,
An island of blond down o' beard.
KTESIPPOS
Oh, where?
TELEMACH
I am well pleased your mood is light and free.
Has the swineherd provided well for you?
KTESIPPOS
Passably well. Only not maids enough.
Thou seest Eurymachos holds his mistress close,
ANTINOOS being also well supplied.
I and Amphinomos have empty arms.
EURYMACHOS
[To MELANTO whom he has drawn upon his lap.
I know not yet whom I prefer: or thee,
Or else Penelope's little daugther there!
ANTINOOS
Ye know right well that Telemach's a man.
The day on which I shall his mother wed,
For twelve long days this island shall resound
With holy games in honour of the gods.
Telemach, guiding a chariot with three foals,
Will then receive the race-track's victor's crown.
But how fares Nestor? Doth his head still shake
Between his hollow shoulders as of old?
How fares the cuckold, Menelaos, speak!
And Helena, the ancient crone, what does she?
For in old age no one will play at love
With her, as once, unless it be a helot?
TELEMACH
Ye are welcome, all ye princes. Drink and eat,
And let it trouble you no further now
In which great game a victory perchance
Is destined to me. As for my voyaging
And the dear guest friends on whose threshold I,
The untested youth, did find such hearty welcome —
On this let me be silent. I fear Zeus,
And I would rather die than recompense
With base affronts the kindness that was mine.
AMPHINOMOS
A very skilful chatterer! Deem ye not?
He has the heritage of his sire's false tongue.
ANTINOOS
Yet more, Amphinomos, he's like his mother.
I squint my eyes and, gazing at him, see
The lovely curving of his full, red lips,
The enchanting dimples in his cheeks, the look
Veiled from desire ... then if my glances glide
Over the rounded shoulders and full arms —
I could believe his mother standing there.
KTESIPPOS
Why cease from the comparison, good prince?
ANTINOOS
Ye pant for gold. I love his mother's self.
Drink unto her who is as cold as snow!
Whom I desire ever since that far day
When she pressed me, a child, unto her bosom.
When like a great and irridescent spider
She sits, clothed by her web, beside her loom,
With that impenetrable smile of hers,
And the breath makes to heave so quietly
All the magnificence of her white flesh —
Who shall withstand her? Ah, the cruel one,
Who sinks her eye-lashes in her cold stealth,
And stretches out her web with Aphroditic
And deadly smiling for her victim's heart.
EURYMACHOS
Her picture as with sly and lying wiles
She plays with us, fans our glow to-day, tomorrow
Drenches and slays it in an icy current.
ANTINOOS
O Telemach, wert thou indeed in Sparta?
Then sawest thou not under the plantain trees
The holy stone that is memorial
Of the far day when first that mother o' thine
Danced naked 'mid the virgins of her land!
Didst thou embrace the stone, O Telemach?
And didst thou kiss the meadow which her soles
Ambrosial once touched? Or didst thou not?
Behold, to do this thing, I'd gladly swim
With these two arms through the Ionian sea,
And in the blazing glare to Sparta run,
And with bare feet across Taygetos.
And at that stone I'd throw me in the grass
Only to dream. O thou steel-bright and strange
Long-thighed, sweet Maenad, oh, why was not I
The dead Odysseus who beheld that thing?
ODYSSEUS
Thou art right, hero Antinoos, only
The dead Odysseus will make thee a dead
Dog, ere in death thou canst his equal be.
ANTINOOS
I dreamed about thy mother, Telemach!
Oh, such sweet dreams! For we are young, the sap
Rises in us, Telemach, and thy mother
Is a divinity who ages not.
[At a glance from ODYSSEUS, TELEMACH pours more wine into
the cup of ANTINOOS. It lightens.
Zeus beckons! Wine! Thus dionysos serves
With light the seer in the sable night
There whither never pierces Phœbus' beam.
Thou makest a seer of me, Telemach!
Guess what I see in vision? 'Tis thy mother!
Where? In her chamber! How? Naked and bare!
Embrace me then and call me father, for
By Zeus the steer who in the thunder roars,
And in the lightning rapes Europa, I
Will yet beget a brother equal thee
On that sweet body that once gave thee birth!
And ye shall wrestle, thou and he, when we
Sit at the feast, for the victorious wreath.
Thou art too weak, O Telemach, thou art
A woman! But be my friend, for lo, I love
Delicate boys.
TELEMACH
Call me what name demands
Antinoos, that sombre madness which
Hides from thyself the better soul of thee,
Also thy fate. Blasphemies and affronts
So shameless as thine are betray the fear
Of him who seeks to hide it and who knows
Long that a gathering fate will hem him in.
KTESIPPOS
[After the general laughter has died down.
His mother's little pet grows touchy now.
But still mark well the tiny milk-teeth, princes,
Which now the growling little cur has shown.
AMPHINOMOS
Now tell us clearly, O young Telemach,
Who assumest both the prophet and the lord,
What are our misdeeds in thy loud reproach?
We are neighbours, princes, mighty men and lords,
And guests and guest friends and — even have it so —
Admirers and wooers of thy lofty mother.
Wherein then seest thou the unseemly, where
The blasphemy worth death and doom? Are not
Such mighty friends adornments to a house
And honour? Does not Zeus himself protect
The hospitality thou hast betrayed?
Who wounds thee? Or who strikes thee that thou runn'st
Weeping unto thy kinsmen in the world,
Accusing thy mother's wooers and herself
Thy mother, like a boy devoid of sense?
Am I perchance a scurfy Homer like
Yon fellow, croaking songs and begging crumbs?
[He points to ODYSSEUS.
And not a prince, ruler of his own land,
Himself the lord of palace, serfs and herds?
KTESIPPOS
Thinkest thou we have eaten meat of swine
Nowhere but on this island Ithaca?
That there are nowhere else calves' stomachs, bread,
Wherewith to satisfy our appetite?
Our presence is an honour to thee here!
TELEMACH
Must I, a youth, teach unto ye, O men,
What honour and dishonour is? It is
Dishonour for a guest voraciously
To spoil the house whose welcome is outworn;
Dishonour for a host to suffer it,
And silently to see his goods despoiled.
Liberal is he who gives, not he who is robbed.
Liberality brings honour, robbery
And base supineness do not so to any.
EURYMACHOS
Reproach me then thy mother! Why does she
Prolong our stay with her voluptuous coldness?
Her husband's dead. What would she? Does she wait
Ever? And were he to return to-day,
Odysseus were a ruin of age and want.
And every hypocritic glance betrays her
Who panteth for our virile power unused.
So let her choose, and we will journey home,
And leave that man to cool him in her bed
Whom her experienced eye prefers. Oh, long
This life has grown most hateful unto all,
In which she holds us bound in shameful bonds
With daily temptings and with daily lies.
I hate this woman even as I love her! Nay,
I hate her more! Into her bed-chamber
I'd make my way by force and grasp her hard
And tame her arrogance unbearable.
TELEMACH
[Grasps his sword.
Take up thy sword, Eurymachos, no more
To-day shalt thou affront my mother's honour!
EURYMACHOS
To punish thee, O boy, I need no sword.
ANTINOOS
[In the part of peace-maker.
Let be, Eurymachos. Be peaceful. Both
Extend your hands. Be reconciled, for truly
Even Telemach has reason for his wrath.
The patience of the most long-suffering son
Must snap when such unbridled speech as ours
Is poured out over her who is his mother.
EURYMACHOS
[Beats the table.
I shall possess her if I live, or die!
ANTINOOS
If she prefer me, then, thou'lt die through me.
AMPHINOMOS
Share not the booty ere the prey be yours.
'Tis I, as men have prophesied, who shall
Some day unloose that narrow zone of hers,
And strip her Tyrian garments from her limbs
And break the golden bonds above her knee.
And though I die, yet shall I see ere that
Her eye in passion break, she shall swoon away
In lust and thirst and quench her boundless glow
After the years of waiting and of want.
ODYSSEUS
The he-goat has escaped, Melanteus! Run!
The he-goat has escaped! Take to thy heels!
AMPHINOMOS
Hurl him o'er the cliff-side to the abyss!
TELEMACH
Let none insult the help-beseeching one
Who, like yourselves, is guest at the same board.
EUMÆUS
Princes, oh let not Eros change your meal
To bitterness and gall. And let the quarrel
That each may have with each within his heart
Rest till ye have returned unto the city.
For we are peaceful in this country-side,
And if ye would, a shepherds' mummery
Shall bring ye back your peace and cheerful mood.
EURYMACHOS
[Referring to TELEMACH.
Not ere this fellow's pale and cold in dust.
KTESIPPOS
A fool who is indulgent of his foe.
Ye have heard and seen his enmity to-day.
ANTINOOS
Who does but break the skin of the sweet child
Need hope for nothing from his mother more:
Else would I wrench his neck myself, God knows.
[HECTOR, the old shepherd, jumps in with a bell about his
neck, feigning to be a cow. GLAUKOS plays the flute.
AMPHINOMOS
Out with these swine-serfs! Out! Away! We have come
For no vile mummery, but to avenge
The treacherous breach of hospitality.
ANTINOOS
[Discovering and picking up the bow of ODYSSEUS.
The knavish father of this son to whom
The bow belongs that I hold in my hand,
Passed on his evil cunning to his son,
Who, like a murderer, aims at unarmed men,
And speeds envenomed arrows like to him.
TELEMACH
[Snatches the bow from him.
Desecrate not this bow, for it is mine.
ANTINOOS
Great is thy daring!
AMPHINOMOS
Be not hasty, lords.
Come, let us draw aside, as judges do,
Who pass a sentence ere they execute it.
[The WOOERS together with MELANTO, MELANTEUS, the piping GLAU
KOS and the other shepherds, withdraw into the court. ODYSSEUS, TELEMACH,
EUMÆUS and LEUCONE remain.
ODYSSEUS
[Gazing deep into the eyes of TELEMACH who quivers with emotion.
Hold! Not a step! No word nor any sound!
This counsels one whom the immortal gods
Through painful years of heavy wandering
Taught patience measureless. One who endured
And suffered all that amid gods and men
Is given to suffer and endure at all.
LEUCONE
[To TELEMACH.
Dost thou not recognise the eye of him,
The unforgetable glory of our childhood?
I gaze and gaze upon him! All at once
The fogs are torn asunder and a god
Shines through the rift with all his radiance.
Go to him, for he is, he is ...
TELEMACH
[Suddenly overwhelmed embraces sobbing the knees of ODYSSEUS
My father!
THE FIFTH ACT
The same scene as in the fourth act. ODYSSEUS sits beside the fire.
TELEMACH embraces his knees. Both weep. LEUCONE and EUMÆUS
stand at some distance from them.
ODYSSEUS
Listen how deep the night breathes, Telemach.
Oh, let us also breathe and calm ourselves.
TELEMACH
O holy man, O father, punish me,
For lo, I had betrayed thee in my heart.
ODYSSEUS
Nothing shall be a chiding unto thee
In my return. Thou excellent and old
Eumæus, station guards about us lest
The wasters of our goods surprise us here.
How full of magic are the paths that men
Wandering pursue. Do I not feel as though
I were emerging from a dream that is
Like a great sea, and greet the dawn again?
And yet again I seem to lapse in dreams
When I salute thee as my son, strong youth,
Whom long ago I left a stammering babe.
And last these wooers — wooers of my spouse!
Could I have hoped to meet them while I yet
Was living on the strange round of the earth?
Foals they whom once I pampered with sweet bread,
Have grown unruly stallions, wild and fierce
In this illimitable liberty.
Thus fares it with the creatures of our hearth —
Even with man himself who breaks all bonds
When the folk-shepherd ceases from his watch.
The watchdog which should guard the herd becomes
A ravenous wolf attacking that same heard.
The bee, a robber, turns against the hive!
And here a herd of robbers gone astray!
And so my homeland calls for bloody work.
TELEMACH
Father, now that thy spirit fills me quite,
I feel as though but now thou hadst begotten
My body too. I feel my manhood now.
Instead of many luring aims that mock,
At last my path is open, straight and fixed.
My glance is clear and every muscle waits
Tensely for the great work that must be done.
ODYSSEUS
Be not disturbed though my whole body seem
Yet whelmed and trembling by the storm within.
A thousand times the flood passed over me,
Yet not like to this last and magic wave
That washed away the twenty wandering years.
O Telemach, I am young, I am young once more.
Spite of the hour of fate that shakes my soul,
My heart leaps with the sacred thirst of slaughter.
O child, O son, O what magnificent
Delight, gift of the gods, to exact my vengeance.
What now is all my wandering's misery? Naught.
TELEMACH
How thinkest thou the venegance to exact?
ODYSSEUS
Through blood! Through blood? How otherwise? Through blood!
And is thy mother still as beautiful,
O Telemach, as all these wooers say?
TELEMACH
A radiance is about her everywhere.
ODYSSEUS
And will she not despise me and pursue?
Thou art silent. Do thou then, O slender maid,
Thou, by whose lips Athena to me spake,
When I sank o'er this threshold — do thou speak!
Perhaps, O pure of brow, she once again
The maiden goddess will inspire thy heart,
As once before wisdom she breathed in thee.
LEUCONE
O king, think not upon the words I spake.
Now art thou here, divinest man of men.
Who feels what we have become, thou being here,
Knows what we needs were when thou wert afar:
Nor less than we the mother and the queen.
Never will she become thine enemy,
For thou art here: divinely rises she
Thine equal in error, in endurance great,
And waxing, nigh thee, to the very stars.
ODYSSEUS
O distrust dire that nestles in my soul,
And like a bitter poison fills my blood.
How could I breathe, could I not distrust too,
Even gods and far more men and, last, myself,
And women, in the end! Are they not called
Circe, Calypso, Helena and even,
Even Clytemnestra! Yet not one of these,
Though evil of heart, held such an evil court
As this blasphemer who was once my wife.
And can she be Penelope indeed?
Oh, my soul shudders at her very name.
EUMÆUS
O king, I have been ever true to thee.
So let me freely speak what my heart thinks.
Our queen herself has broken not her faith.
For I awaited ever thy return,
And, in reward, her grace upon me was
As on no other man upon the isle.
My faithfulness was never her annoy.
Once, many years ago, thou toldest me
A tale of how thou broughtest home with thee
From Sparta once the maiden newly won.
Thou saidest, in the house of Icarios,
Her father, there surrounded her a swarm
Of youthful wooers, passion-stung and seared,
The while Penelope in icy mood,
Remained inviolate amid the flames.
Thou calledst her Circe then, and only now
I grasp the sense of the dark words which thou
Spakest but now unto the wooers here.
For often didst thou say with laughter wild
In the old days, that thou hadst won thy spouse,
Forcing thy sweetheart with the battle sword,
The crimson flower Moly in thine hands,
Else hadst thou been naught but a grunting swine
In Aphrodite's Spartan sanctuary.
ODYSSEUS
I laugh as then, for thou dost speak the truth.
EUMÆUS
O king, behold thy father who rests here.
[He shows him behind a hanging LAERTES asleep on a heap of
dry leaves.
ODYSSEUS
Ay, I have seen him and I know him too.
Howe'er it be, his old heart did not yield.
So do ye, too, mine eyes, hold out nor melt
Before this light of woe insufferable.
O pallid countenance, sick and weathered too,
O thou poor, crooked back! O ye poor hands
Brown, torn with digging of the earth! O feet,
Cut, bruisèd, torn and full of cruel scars,
And hardened by the weary, trodden earth.
Ay, thou and I and I and thou, we two
Were driven to dig our weary path through life
As through an endless tunnel to this hour,
Like moles! Ah, grasp the earth which ever we
Digged up and handle it and prophesy
Deep things and mystic from the shafts of life.
EUMÆUS
Ay, lord, for with his horn he prophesied,
Like a blind seer he foretold thy coming.
ODYSSEUS
What drove him forth from the king's golden roof
Into the wilderness?
EUMÆUS
Dear lord, he waited.
And no one held him back, not even the queen,
Neither by kind persuasion or command.
In sanctuary of the warlike Pan,
High amid mountains did he take his rest,
From whence he peered across the eternal sea.
Firmly he fixed his eye on each new sail
For many hours and for whole days of hours.
He whispered, spake aloud unto himself,
Beckoning ever in the delusive hope,
As though it were thyself whom now at last
The wind and wave were bringing back. And ever
His eye would ask what never his lips confessed —
For never of his sorrows did he speak.
Whether a ray of hope of thy return
Still dwelt in me, he asked. Naught else. Or but
Whether sweet hay or bitter foliage were
The easier couch. He planted beans and onions
And leek, faithfully as the meanest hind.
But wheresoever he goes, he dreams of thee,
And in his sleep, as now, art thou with him.
ODYSSEUS
[Kissing the feet of LAERTES amid tears.
Live! Wait for me until we well have cleansed
Of shame and blood this island. Then will I
Rest with thee, father, on the foliage dry
And cut the holy grape of Dionysos,
And plunge the hoe into the fruitful earth.
Then shall the peasant's frugal fare delight
As never the dainties of the wealthy feast.
The royal seat is thine, O Telemach.
This aged man has chosen the better part,
And I shall share it with him, O my son.
And even as I wash his calloused feet
And cool the stripes, and heal the wounds of him
With balsam, even so shall I guard and heal
This land of ours, sucked dry, emaciate,
Covered with cruel stripes, until it rise
In glorious vigour even as of old.
EUMÆUS
O king, I have unleashed the hounds and they
Are all about the stead. None may escape,
And these same wooers are the wooers' chiefs.
Scarcely will ever an hour like this return
Wherein we hold their lives within our hands.
If they are sped, the others powerless lie.
ODYSSEUS
Nay, nay, not yet! Their lives are lost, in truth.
But Pallas bids me spare them, give to them
Respite till comes the fateful day when all
Who shamed my hearth shall fall beneath the sword.
[The screeching of women's voices is heard, and the laughter
and cries of men. NOAIMON enters.
NOAIMON
O ye abandoned, O ye bestial men!
They murmur as the hares in time of heat.
The wench Melanto's passed from hand to hand,
And Glaucos threw his pipes afar and fled.
ODYSSEUS
Now they approach.
TELEMACH
With sounds of gluttony.
NOAIMON
They are like maddened bulls devoid of sense
With rage, and swearing death to Telemach.
[The four wooers re-enter, their minds wrapt in madness by
drunkenness, hatred, lust and the night.
ANTINOOS
Youth, give to us the bow, the sacred bow
Which thou didst keep from us.
AMPHINOMOS
I'll make thee jump
Like a lust slave I bought and cast aside,
Too loathly for my lusts.
KTESIPPOS
Give then to us
The bow of thy abominable sire,
But in such way it does not mire our hands.
For we would shoot with arrows and — at thee.
EURYMACHOS
Thou shall know how it is in Hades. Thou
Shalt make the light pestilent now no more,
Thou foul and loathsome traitor, Telemach,
Who creepest to Sparta even like a cur
Whining for murderers to cut our throats.
Give me the bow, to me first, give it me!
Judgment we have declared together, one
And only one must here the hangman be!
ANTINOOS
Wine, wine!
ODYSSEUS
'Tis well! Give them the bow, O swineherd.
EUMÆUS
[Places the quiver and the bow before ANTINOOS.
Only the cool souled archer hits his aim.
ANTINOOS
Ay, thou art right. First for the weakest, then!
Ktesippos, span the string upon the bow.
KTESIPPOS
Naught easier.
[He attempts it in vain.
AMPHINOMOS
A second Telemach
Art thou, Ktesippos. Leave the bow alone.
[He takes the bow and succeeds no better.
EURYMACHOS
And thou art a third Telemach, it seems.
AMPHINOMOS
Never did any man's arm bend this bow.
EURYMACHOS
Or none but mine.
[He takes the bow and tries to bend it.
ANTINOOS
[Looks on jeeringly.
More vigorously, man!
Canst thou not even bend the curving wood
So as to span it with the ringing gut
That speeds the certain arrow to its aim!
The wench thou hittest in the dark, O hero!
An evil presage for thee, but for me
A goodly one. A queen is greater prey,
A goddess above all, than a mere wench.
AMPHINOMOS
Easier by far thy leaping was about
Priapus with the shepherds. And now must
Thou sweat therefor, my lord Eurymachos.
ANTINOOS
Give me the bow at last that I may shoot,
And ye may learn who is the master here.
[He takes the bow and strives in vain to bend it. The wooers laugh.
TELEMACH
If ye desire to slay me, do so, princes!
Long has life been of little worth to me.
I will prepare the weapon for you even.
And see if any matter ail the bow.
ANTINOOS
There is no woman in the flesh, my friends,
Who will give birth unto a man such as
That man must be who of himself could say
That he alone this mighty bow can bend.
KTESIPPOS
Then let us do't together.
[Half in rage, half in laughter, the four together try to
bend the bow.
ODYSSEUS
[Cries aloud.
Telemach!
TELEMACH
Ay, father!
ODYSSEUS
[As before.
Telemach, Odysseus has
Come back again!
ANTINOOS
What didst thou call? Thou yonder?
AMPHINOMOS
The swineherd's house is full of aged men,
Children and fools.
ODYSSEUS
Lad, give the bow to me!
[TELEMACH steps among the wooers, takes the bow and lays it, together
with the quiver, at the feet of ODYSSEUS.
EURYMACHOS
This childish playing with the bow is over.
Take ye your seats, the judgment is at hand,
And yonder boy may now defend himself.
ODYSSEUS
The hour of judgment is at hand. Thou sayest it.
[Firmly and easily he curves the two ends of the bow and secures the
string.
AMPHINOMOS
What does the beggar there? Have care, my friends!
TELEMACH
Hold court, my lords, now and pronounce your judgments.
ODYSSEUS
Hearest thou not, O Telemach? Odysseus
Has come again unto his homeland?
TELEMACH
Ay,
He has come back, I know it well, O father.
AMPHINOMOS
[Like the others bursting out into laughter that is touched with
terror.
The hour confuses us. The heating wine
And night and love. Let us fare homeward now.
Easy for them with juggling folly now
To conquer us, so that our lips must laugh,
Nor execute the bloody punishment.
ANTINOOS
Ye may go home: I'll bed me with Leucone.
EURYMACHOS
[Collapsing and raising himself again.
How now, wine! I do carry thee and thou
Wouldst throw me to the earth? Let be those tricks.
AMPHINOMOS
Come homewards.
ANTINOOS
With Leucone I sleep this night.
ODYSSEUS
Odysseus has returned. Give heed, ye men!
KTESIPPOS
[Hurls a cow's foot at ODYSSEUS and hits him.
I had imagined that Odysseus thus —
A carrion eaten by the worms, like thee.
ODYSSEUS
Sharp is thy glance, O Ktesippos, therefore
Thou farest last to Hades. — Seest thou
With eyes as clear as his, Antinoos?
Nay? Knowest thou not this brow and not at all
The man and archer who now lifts the arrow
And lays it swiftly on that sacred bow,
Which, like Apollo's bow, and like the arrows
Of Artemis, is an unerring one?
Stare not. Grow sober. Learn at least by whose
Strong hand thou diest ere thy shade flies hence.
ANTINOOS
[Who has stared at him, suddenly leaping up in recognition.
Slaughterer! Trojan butcher! Ay, 'tis he
Who led away our youths to distant lands,
And had them slain for Helena! Right so!
Thou shame-corroded, lying scoundrel, thou!
I grudge thee not to the viper in the palace!
Creep in thy marriage bed and soil her flesh.
ODYSSEUS
[Bending the bow and aiming at ANTINOOS.
And thou, O fateful arrow, pierce his breast!
[ANTINOOS, transfixed, falls across the table.
ANTINOOS
Murderer!
ODYSSEUS
[Has swiftly placed a second arrow against the string and
pierced EUYRMACHOS who, with protruding eyes, strives to keep erect.
I am a trifle swift, Eurymachos,
And when the night began thou thoughtest not
Of what it would give birth to, nor that night
Would end for thee no more forevermore.
EURYMACHOS
Murderer!
AMPHINOMOS
Are ye drunken? Or does madness
Attack ye, princes, or are these wild tricks?
ODYSSEUS
It is a wild, strange jest, Amphinomos,
Which the immortal gods play on ye! Look,
The heavenly ones regard us, and they laugh.
MELANTEUS
[Falls down before ODYSSEUS.
If thou art Odysseus, have compassion. I
Am but a mean and very humble hind,
How should I show rebellion unto lords?
But spare me and like to the swineherd, I
Will quietly deliver in thy hands
Whom thou, like these, mayest slay in secret then.
ODYSSEUS
Hang him, and deal thus also with Melanto,
The wench.
[EUMÆUS and NOAIMON drag MELANTEUS out.
AMPHINOMOS
Art thou Odysseus? Is it truly
The wrath of the terrible one that rages here?
Then tell me of my wrong! Is it my guilt
That in thy house I used the sacred right
Of hospitality?
ODYSSEUS
It is not that:
Thou art too young and far too lecherous.
KTESIPPOS
Weapons! What happens here?
AMPHINOMOS
I ask that, prince,
Even as thou. We dream or else are mad.
Eurymachos! Antinoos! Why so silent?
Why burns the flame so green and smouldering?
ODYSSEUS
'Tis poisoned wood of a certain ship that once
Was wrecked, and ye must smother in the smoke.
[He shoots AMPHINOMOS through the breast.
AMPHINOMOS
[Groping about.
Light! Light! The light's gone out! I see no more!
ODYSSEUS
Bright is it! Helios fares to Acheron and lights
The way of all the dead.—Now, Ktesippos,
Show us thy speed! Thou hesitatest? Flee!
Thou art a game one drives! No noble prey
Struck in the heart? Dost linger? Show thy speed!
KTESIPPOS
Help! Help!
[He determines at last upon flight and runs out through the door into
the yard. Quietly ODYSSEUS goes to the door and, with unerring aim,
shoots out into the darkness.
ODYSSEUS
Cry thou aloud, for Hades hears thee!
[He stands long without moving.
TELEMACH
[Approaches his father.
Nothing my sword has done. Thou didst it all!
ODYSSEUS
Patience! Patience! Yet is there much to do,
And thy sword will be sated ere all ends.
What will thy mother say, O Telemach,
That I her favourite playthings broke so soon?
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