Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE ODYSSEY: BOOK 2, by HOMER


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE ODYSSEY: BOOK 2, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Telemachus to court doth call
Last Line: And all day long, their voyage did dispose.
Subject(s): Mythology - Classical; Ulysses; Odysseus


THE ARGUMENT.

TELEMACHUS to court doth call
The Wooers, and commands them all
To leave his house; and, taking then
From wise Minerva ship and men,
And all things fit for him beside,
That Euryclea could provide
For sea-rites, till he found his sire,
He hoists sail; when Heaven stoops his fire.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

The old Maid's store
The voyage cheers.
The ship leaves shore,
Minerva steers.

NOW when with rosy fingers, th' early born
And thrown through all the air, appear'd the Morn,
Ulysses' lov'd son from his bed appear'd,
His weeds put on, and did about him gird
His sword that thwart his shoulders hung, and tied
To his fair feet fair shoes, and all parts plied
For speedy readiness; who, when he trod
The open earth, to men show'd like a God.
The heralds then he straight charg'd to consort
The curl'd-head Greeks, with loud calls, to a Court.
They summon'd; th' other came in utmost haste.
Who all assembled, and in one heap plac'd,
He likewise came to council, and did bear
In his fair hand his iron-headed spear.
Nor came alone, nor with men troops prepar'd,
But two fleet dogs made both his train and guard.
Pallas supplied with her high wisdom's grace,
That all men's wants supplies, State's painted face.
His ent'ring presence all men did admire;
Who took seat in the high throne of his sire,
To which the grave peers gave him reverend way.
Amongst whom, an Egyptian heroe
(Crooked with age, and full of skill) begun
The speech to all; who had a loved son
That with divine Ulysses did ascend
His hollow fleet to Troy; to serve which end,
He kept fair horse, and was a man at arms,
And in the cruel Cyclops' stern alarms
His life lost by him in his hollow cave,
Whose entrails open'd his abhorred grave,
And made of him, of all Ulysses' train,
His latest supper, being latest slain;
His name was Antiphus. And this old man,
This crooked grown, this wise Egyptian,
Had three sons more; of which one riotous
A wooer was, and call'd Eurynomus;
The other two took both his own wish'd course.
Yet both the best fates weigh'd not down the worse,
But left the old man mindful still of moan;
Who, weeping, thus bespake the session;
"Hear, Ithacensians, all I fitly say:
Since our divine Ulysses' parting day
Never was council call'd, nor session,
And now by whom is this thus undergone?
Whom did necessity so much compell,
Of young or old? Hath any one heard tell
Of any coming army, that he thus now
May openly take boldness to avow,
First having heard it? Or will any here
Some motion for the public good prefer?
Some worth of note there is in this command;
And, methinks, it must be some good man's hand
That's put to it, that either hath direct
Means to assist, or, for his good affect,
Hopes to be happy in the proof he makes;
And that Jove grant, whate'er he undertakes."
Telemachus (rejoicing much to hear
The good hope and opinion men did bear
Of his young actions) no longer sat,
But long'd t' approve what this man pointed at,
And make his first proof in a cause so good;
And in the council's chief place up he stood;
When straight Pisenor (herald to his sire,
And learn'd in counsels) felt his heart on fire
To hear him speak, and put into his hand
The sceptre that his father did command;
Then, to the old Egyptian turn'd, he spoke:
"Father, not far he is that undertook
To call this Council; whom you soon shall know.
Myself, whose wrongs my griefs will make me show,
Am he that author'd this assembly here.
Nor have I heard of any army near,
Of which, being first told, I might iterate,
Nor for the public good can aught relate,
Only mine own affairs all this procure,
That in my house a double ill endure;
One, having lost a father so renown'd,
Whose kind rule once with your command was crown'd;
The other is, what much more doth augment
His weighty loss, the ruin imminent
Of all my house by it, my goods all spent.
And of all this the wooers, that are sons
To our chief peers, are the confusions,
Importuning my mother's marriage
Against her will; nor dares their blood's bold rage
Go to Icarius', her father's, court,
That, his will ask'd in kind and comely sort,
He may endow his daughter with a dower,
And, she consenting, at his pleasure's power
Dispose her to a man, that, thus behav'd,
May have fit grace, and see her honour sav'd;
But these, in none but my house, all their lives
Resolve to spend; slaught'ring my sheep and beeves,
And with my fattest goats lay feast on feast,
My generous wine consuming as they list.
A world of things they spoil, here wanting one,
That, like Ulysses, quickly could set gone
These peace-plagues from his house, that spoil like war;
Whom my powers are unfit to urge so far,
Myself immartial. But, had I the power,
My will should serve me to exempt this hour
From out my life-time. For, past patience,
Base deeds are done here, that exceed defence
Of any honour. Falling is my house,
Which you should shame to see so ruinous.
Reverence the censures that all good men give,
That dwell about you; and for fear to live
Exposed to heaven's wrath (that doth ever pay
Pains for joys forfeit) even by Jove I pray,
Or Themis, both which powers have to restrain,
Or gather, councils, that ye will abstain
From further spoil, and let me only waste
In that most wretched grief I have embrac'd
For my lost father. And though I am free
From meriting your outrage, yet, if he,
Good man, hath ever with a hostile heart
Done ill to any Greek, on me convert
Your like hostility, and vengeance take
Of his ill on my life, and all these make
Join in that justice; but, to see abused
Those goods that do none ill but being ill used,
Exceeds all right. Yet better 'tis for me,
My whole possessions and my rents to see
Consum'd by you, than lose my life and all;
For on your rapine a revenge may fall,
While I live; and so long I may complain
About the city, till my goods again,
Oft ask'd, may be with all amends repaid.
But in the mean space your misrule hath laid
Griefs on my bosom, that can only speak,
And are denied the instant power of wreak."
This said, his sceptre 'gainst the ground he threw,
And tears still'd from him; which mov'd all the crew,
The court struck silent, not a man did dare
To give a word that might offend his ear.
Antinous only in this sort replied:
"High spoken, and of spirit unpacified,
How have you sham'd us in this speech of yours!
Will you brand us for an offence not ours?
Your mother, first in craft, is first in cause.
Three years are past, and near the fourth now draws,
Since first she mock'd the peers Achaian.
All she made hope, and promis'd every man,
Sent for us ever, left love's show in nought,
But in her heart conceal'd another thought.
Besides, as curious in her craft, her loom
She with a web charg'd, hard to overcome,
And thus bespake us: 'Youths, that seek my bed,
Since my divine spouse rests amongst the dead,
Hold on your suits but till I end, at most,
This funeral weed, lest what is done be lost.
Besides, I purpose, that when th' austere fate
Of bitter death shall take into his state
Laertes the heroe, it shall deck
His royal corse, since I should suffer check
In ill report of every common dame,
If one so rich should show in death his shame.'
This speech she used; and this did soon persuade
Our gentle minds. But this a work she made
So hugely long, undoing still in night,
By torches, all she did by day's broad light,
That three years her deceit div'd past our view,
And made us think that all she feign'd was true.
But when the fourth year came, and those sly hours
That still surprise at length dames' craftiest powers,
One of her women, that knew all, disclos'd
The secret to us, that she still unloosed
Her whole day's fair affair in depth of night.
And then no further she could force her sleight,
But, of necessity, her work gave end.
And thus, by me, doth every other friend,
Professing love to her, reply to thee;
That even thyself, and all Greeks else, may see,
That we offend not in our stay, but she.
To free thy house then, send her to her sire,
Commanding that her choice be left entire
To his election, and one settled will.
Nor let her vex with her illusions still
Her friends that woo her, standing on her wit,
Because wise Pallas hath given wills to it
So full of art, and made her understand
All works in fair skill of a lady's hand.
But (for her working mind) we read of none
Of all the old world, in which Greece hath shown
Her rarest pieces, that could equal her:
Tyro, Alcmena, and Mycena, were
To hold comparison in no degree,
For solid brain, with wise Penelope.
And yet, in her delays of us, she shows
No prophet's skill with all the wit she owes;
For all this time thy goods and victuals go
To utter ruin; and shall ever so,
While thus the Gods her glorious mind dispose.
Glory herself may gain, but thou shalt lose
Thy longings even for necessary food,
For we will never go where lies our good,
Nor any other where, till this delay
She puts on all, she quits with th' endless stay
Of some one of us, that to all the rest
May give free farewell with his nuptial feast."
The wise young prince replied: "Antinous!
I may by no means turn out of my house
Her that hath brought me forth and nourish'd me.
Besides, if quick or dead my father be
In any region, yet abides in doubt;
And 'twill go hard, my means being so run out,
To tender to Icarius again,
If he again my mother must maintain
In her retreat, the dower she brought with her.
And then a double ill it will confer,
Both from my father and from God on me,
When, thrust out of her house, on her bent knee,
My mother shall the horrid Furies raise
With imprecations, and all men dispraise
My part in her exposure. Never then
Will I perform this counsel. If your spleen
Swell at my courses, once more I command
Your absence from my house; some other's hand
Charge with your banquets; on your own goods eat,
And either other mutually intreat,
At either of your houses, with your feast.
But if ye still esteem more sweet and best
Another's spoil, so you still wreakless live,
Gnaw, vermin-like, things sacred, no laws give
To your devouring; it remains that I
Invoke each Ever-living Deity,
And vow, if Jove shall deign in any date
Power of like pains for pleasure so past rate,
From thenceforth look, where ye have revelled so
Unwreak'd, your ruins all shall undergo."
Thus spake Telemachus; t' assure whose threat,
Far-seeing Jove upon their pinions set
Two eagles from the high brows of a hill,
That, mounted on the winds, together still
Their strokes extended; but arriving now
Amidst the Council, over every brow
Shook their thick wings and, threat'ning death's cold fears,
Their necks and cheeks tore with their eager seres;
Then, on the court's right-hand away they flew,
Above both court and city. With whose view,
And study what events they might foretell,
The Council into admiration fell.
The old heroe, Halitherses, then,
The son of Nestor, that of all old men,
His peers in that court, only could foresee
By flight of fowls man's fixed destiny,
'Twixt them and their amaze, this interpos'd:
"Hear, Ithacensians, all your doubts disclos'd.
The Wooers most are touch'd in this ostent,
To whom are dangers great and imminent;
For now not long more shall Ulysses bear
Lack of his most lov'd, but fills some place near,
Addressing to these Wooers fate and death.
And many more this mischief menaceth
Of us inhabiting this famous isle.
Let us consult yet, in this long forewhile,
How to ourselves we may prevent this ill.
Let these men rest secure, and revel still;
Though they might find it safer, if with us
They would in time prevent what threats them thus;
Since not without sure trial I foretell
These coming storms, but know their issue well.
For to Ulysses all things have event,
As I foretold him, when for Ilion went
The whole Greek fleet together, and with them
Th' abundant-in-all-counsels took the stream.
I told him, that, when much ill he had passed,
And all his men were lost, he should at last,
The twentieth year, turn home, to all unknown;
All which effects are to perfection grown."
Eurymachus, the son of Polybus,
Opposed this man's presage, and answer'd thus:
"Hence, great in years, go, prophesy at home,
Thy children teach to shun their ills to come.
In these superior far to thee am I.
A world of fowls beneath the sun-beams fly
That are not fit t' inform a prophecy.
Besides, Ulysses perish'd long ago;
And would thy fates to thee had destin'd so,
Since so thy so much prophecy had spar'd
Thy wronging of our rights, which, for reward
Expected home with thee, hath summon'd us
Within the anger of Telemachus.
But this I will presage, which shall be true:
If any spark of anger chance t' ensue
Thy much old art in these deep auguries,
In this young man incensed by thy lies,
Even to himself his anger shall confer
The greater anguish, and thine own ends err
From all their objects; and, besides, thine age
Shall feel a pain, to make thee curse presage
With worthy cause, for it shall touch thee near.
But I will soon give end to all our fear,
Preventing whatsoever chance can fall,
In my suit to the young prince for us all,
To send his mother to her father's house,
That he may sort her out a worthy spouse,
And such a dower bestow, as may befit
One lov'd, to leave her friends and follow it.
Before which course be, I believe that none
Of all the Greeks will cease th' ambition
Of such a match. For, chance what can to us,
We no man fear, no not Telemachus,
Though ne'er so greatly spoken. Nor care we
For any threats of austere prophecy,
Which thou, old dotard, vaunt'st of so in vain.
And thus shalt thou in much more hate remain;
For still the Gods shall bear their ill expense,
Nor ever be dispos'd by competence,
Till with her nuptials she dismiss our suits,
Our whole lives' days shall sow hopes for such fruits.
Her virtues we contend to, nor will go
To any other, be she never so
Worthy of us, and all the worth we owe."
He answer'd him: "Eurymachus, and all
Ye generous Wooers, now, in general,
I see your brave resolves, and will no more
Make speech of these points, and, much less, implore.
It is enough, that all the Grecians here,
And all the Gods besides, just witness bear,
What friendly premonitions have been spent
On your forbearance, and their vain event.
Yet, with my other friends, let love prevail
To fit me with a vessel free of sail,
And twenty men, that may divide to me
My ready passage through the yielding sea.
For Sparta, and Amathoan Pylos' shore,
I now am bound, in purpose to explore
My long-lack'd father, and to try if fame
Or Jove, most author of man's honour'd name,
With his return and life may glad mine ear,
Though toil'd in that proof I sustain a year.
If dead I hear him, nor of more state, here
Retir'd to my lov'd country, I will rear
A sepulchre to him, and celebrate
Such royal parent-rites, as fits his state;
And then my mother to a spouse dispose."
This said, he sat; and to the rest arose
Mentor, that was Ulysses' chosen friend,
To whom, when he set forth, he did commend
His complete family, and whom he will'd
To see the mind of his old sire fulfill'd,
All things conserving safe, till his retreat.
Who, tender of his charge, and seeing to set
In slight care of their king his subjects there,
Suffering his son so much contempt to bear,
Thus gravely, and with zeal, to him began:
"No more let any sceptre-bearing man,
Benevolent, or mild, or human be,
Nor in his mind form acts of piety,
But ever feed on blood, and facts unjust
Commit, even to the full swing of his lust,
Since of divine Ulysses no man now,
Of all his subjects, any thought doth show.
All whom he govern'd, and became to them,
Rather than one that wore a diadem,
A most indulgent father. But, for all
That can touch me, within no envy fall
These insolent Wooers, that in violent kind
Commit things foul by th' ill wit of the mind,
And with the hazard of their heads devour
Ulysses' house, since his returning hour
They hold past hope. But it affects me much,
Ye dull plebeians, that all this doth touch
Your free states nothing; who, struck dumb, afford
These Wooers not so much wreak as a word,
Though few, and you with only number might
Extinguish to them the profaned light."
Evenor's son, Leocritus, replied:
"Mentor! the railer, made a fool with pride,
What language giv'st thou that would quiet us
With putting us in storm, exciting thus
The rout against us? Who, though more than we,
Should find it is no easy victory
To drive men, habited in feast, from feasts,
No not if Ithacus himself such guests
Should come and find so furnishing his Court,
And hope to force them from so sweet a fort.
His wife should little joy in his arrive,
Though much she wants him; for, where she alive
Would her's enjoy, there death should claim his rights.
'He must be conquer'd that with many fights.'
Thou speak'st unfit things. To their labours then
Disperse these people; and let these two men,
Mentor and Halitherses, that so boast
From the beginning to have govern'd most
In friendship of the father, to the son
Confirm the course he now affects to run.
But my mind says, that, if he would but use
A little patience, he should here hear news
Of all things that his wish would understand,
But no good hope for of the course in hand."
This said, the Council rose; when every peer
And all the people in dispersion were
To houses of their own; the Wooers yet
Made to Ulysses' house their old retreat.
Telemachus, apart from all the prease,
Prepar'd to shore, and, in the aged seas
His fair hands wash'd, did thus to Pallas pray:
"Hear me, O Goddess, that but yesterday
Didst deign access to me at home, and lay
Grave charge on me to take ship, and inquire
Along the dark seas for mine absent sire!
Which all the Greeks oppose; amongst whom most
Those that are proud still at another's cost,
Past measure, and the civil rights of men,
My mother's Wooers, my repulse maintain."
Thus spake he praying; when close to him came
Pallas, resembling Mentor both in frame
Of voice and person, and advised him thus:
"Those Wooers well might know, Telemachus,
Thou wilt not ever weak and childish be,
If to thee be instill'd the faculty
Of mind and body that thy father grac'd;
And if, like him, there be in thee enchac'd
Virtue to give words works, and works their end.
This voyage, that to them thou didst commend,
Shall not so quickly, as they idly ween,
Be vain, or giv'n up, for their opposite spleen.
But, if Ulysses nor Penelope
Were thy true parents, I then hope in thee
Of no more urging thy attempt in hand;
For few, that rightly bred on both sides stand,
Are like their parents, many that are worse,
And most few better. Those then that the nurse
Or mother call true born yet are not so,
Like worthy sires much less are like to grow.
But thou show'st now that in thee fades not quite
Thy father's wisdom; and that future light
Shall therefore show thee far from being unwise,
Or touch'd with stain of bastard cowardice.
Hope therefore says, that thou wilt to the end
Pursue the brave act thou didst erst intend.
But for the foolish Wooers, they bewray
They neither counsel have nor soul, since they
Are neither wise nor just, and so must needs
Rest ignorant how black above their heads
Fate hovers holding Death, that one sole day
Will make enough to make them all away.
For thee, the way thou wishest shall no more
Fly thee a step; I, that have been before
Thy father's friend, thine likewise now will be,
Provide thy ship myself, and follow thee.
Go thou then home, and sooth each Wooer's vein,
But under hand fit all things for the main;
Wine in as strong and sweet casks as you can,
And meal, the very marrow of a man,
Which put in good sure leather sacks, and see
That with sweet food sweet vessels still agree.
I from the people straight will press for you
Free voluntaries; and, for ships, enow
Sea-circled Ithaca contains, both new
And old-built; all which I'll exactly view,
And choose what one soever most doth please;
Which rigg'd, we'll straight launch, and assay the seas."
This spake Jove's daughter, Pallas; whose voice heard,
No more Telemachus her charge deferr'd,
But hasted home, and, sad at heart, did see
Amidst his hall th' insulting Wooers flea
Goats, and roast swine. 'Mongst whom, Antinous
Careless, discovering in Telemachus
His grudge to see them, laugh'd, met, took his hand,
And said: "High-spoken, with the mind so mann'd!
Come, do as we do, put not up your spirits
With these low trifles, nor our loving merits
In gall of any hateful purpose steep,
But eat egregiously, and drink as deep.
The things thou think'st on, all at full shall be
By th' Achives thought on, and perform'd to thee;
Ship, and choice oars, that in a trice will land
Thy hasty fleet on heavenly Pylos' sand,
And at the fame of thy illustrous sire."
He answer'd: "Men, whom pride did so inspire,
Are not fit consorts for an humble guest;
Nor are constrain'd men merry at their feast.
Is't not enough, that all this time ye have
Op'd in your entrails my chief goods a grave,
And, while I was a child, made me partake?
My now more growth more grown my mind doth make,
And, hearing speak more judging men than you,
Perceive how much I was misgovern'd now.
I now will try if I can bring ye home
An ill Fate to consort you; if it come
From Pylos, or amongst the people here.
But thither I resolve, and know that there
I shall not touch in vain. Nor will I stay,
Though in a merchant's ship I steer my way;
Which shows in your sights best; since me ye know
Incapable of ship, or men to row."
This said, his hand he coyly snatch'd away
From forth Antinous' hand. The rest the day
Spent through the house with banquets; some with jests,
And some with railings, dignifying their feasts.
To whom a jest-proud youth the wit began:
"Telemachus will kill us every man.
From Sparta, to the very Pylian sand,
He will raise aids to his impetuous hand.
O he affects it strangely! Or he means
To search Ephyra's fat shores, and from thence
Bring deathful poisons, which amongst our bowls
Will make a general shipwrack of our souls."
Another said: "Alas, who knows but he
Once gone, and erring like his sire at sea,
May perish like him, far from aid of friends,
And so he makes us work? For all the ends
Left of his goods here we shall share, the house
Left to his mother and her chosen spouse."
Thus they; while he a room ascended, high
And large, built by his father, where did lie
Gold and brass heap'd up, and in coffers were
Rich robes, great store of odorous oils, and there
Stood tuns of sweet old wines along the wall,
Neat and divine drink, kept to cheer withall
Ulysses' old heart, if he turn'd again
From labours fatal to him to sustain.
The doors of plank were, their close exquisite,
Kept with a double key, and day and night
A woman lock'd within; and that was she
Who all trust had for her sufficiency,
Old Euryclea, one of Opis' race,
Son to Pisenor, and in passing grace
With grey Minerva; her the prince did call,
And said: "Nurse! Draw me the most sweet of all
The wine thou keep'st; next that which for my sire
Thy care reserves, in hope he shall retire.
Twelve vessels fill me forth, and stop them well.
Then into well-sew'd sacks of fine ground meal
Pour twenty measures. Nor, to any one
But thee thyself, let this design be known.
All this see got together; I it all
In night will fetch off, when my mother shall
Ascend her high room, and for sleep prepare.
Sparta and Pylos I must see, in care
To find my father." Out Euryclea cried,
And ask'd with tears: "Why is your mind applied,
Dear son, to this course? Whither will you go?
So far off leave us, and beloved so,
So only? And the sole hope of your race?
Royal Ulysses, far from the embrace
Of his kind country, in a land unknown
Is dead; and, you from your lov'd country gone,
The Wooers will with some deceit assay
To your destruction, making then their prey
Of all your goods. Where, in your own y'are strong,
Make sure abode. It fits not you so young
To suffer so much by the aged seas,
And err in such a wayless wilderness."
"Be cheer'd, lov'd nurse," said he, "for, not without
The will of God, go my attempts about.
Swear therefore, not to wound my mother's ears
With word of this, before from heaven appears
Th' eleventh or twelfth light, or herself shall please
To ask of me, or hears me put to seas,
Lest her fair body with her woe be wore."
To this the great oath of the Gods she swore;
Which having sworn, and of it every due
Perform'd to full, to vessels wine she drew,
And into well-sew'd sacks pour'd foody meal.
In mean time he, with cunning to conceal
All thought of this from others, himself bore
In broad house, with the Wooers, as before.
Then grey-eyed Pallas other thoughts did own,
And like Telemachus trod through the town,
Commanding all his men in th' even to be
Aboard his ship. Again then question'd she
Noemon, famed for aged Phronius' son,
About his ship; who all things to be done
Assured her freely should. The sun then set,
And sable shadows slid through every street,
When forth they launch'd, and soon aboard did bring
All arms, and choice of every needful thing
That fits a well-rigg'd ship. The Goddess then
Stood in the port's extreme part, where her men,
Nobly appointed, thick about her came,
Whose every breast she did with spirit enflame.
Yet still fresh projects laid the grey-eyed Dame.
Straight to the house she hasted, and sweet sleep
Pour'd on each Wooer; which so laid in steep
Their drowsy temples, that each brow did nod,
As all were drinking, and each hand his load,
The cup, let fall. All start up, and to bed,
Nor more would watch, when sleep so surfeited
Their leaden eye-lids. Then did Pallas call
Telemachus, in body, voice, and all,
Resembling Mentor, from his native nest,
And said, that all his arm'd men were addrest
To use their oars, and all expected now
He should the spirit of a soldier show.
"Come then," said she, "no more let us defer
Our honour'd action." Then she took on her
A ravish'd spirit, and led as she did leap;
And he her most haste took out step by step.
Arrived at sea and ship, they found ashore
The soldiers that their fashion'd-long hair wore;
To whom the prince said: "Come, my friends, let's bring
Our voyage's provision; every thing
Is heap'd together in our court; and none,
No not my mother, nor her maids, but one
Knows our intention." This express'd, he led,
The soldiers close together followed;
And all together brought aboard their store.
Aboard the prince went; Pallas still before
Sat at the stern, he close to her, the men
Up hasted after. He and Pallas then
Put from the shore. His soldiers then he bad
See all their arms fit; which they heard, and had.
A beechen mast, then, in the hollow base
They put, and hoisted, fix'd it in his place
With cables; and with well-wreath'd halsers hoise
Their white sails, which grey Pallas now employs
With full and fore-gales through the dark deep main.
The purple waves, so swift cut, roar'd again
Against the ship sides, that now ran and plow'd
The rugged seas up. Then the men bestow'd
Their arms about the ship, and sacrifice
With crown'd wine-cups to th' endless Deities
They offer'd up. Of all yet throned above,
They most observed the grey-eyed seed of Jove;
Who, from the evening till the morning rose,
And all day long, their voyage did dispose.







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