Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PENELOPE TO ULYSSES, SELECTION, by ANNE WHARTON


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PENELOPE TO ULYSSES, SELECTION, by                    
First Line: Penelope this slow epistle sends
Last Line: Would troy were glorious still, so I had you...
Subject(s): Grief; Homer (10th Century B.c.); Love; Mythology - Classical; Poetry & Poets; Sorrow; Sadness; Iliad; Odyssey


Penelope this slow Epistle sends
To him on whom her future hope depends;
'Tis your Penelope, distress'd, forlorn,
Who asks no Answer but your quick Return.
Priam and Troy, the Grecian Dames just Hate;
Have long e're this, 'tis known, receiv'd their Fate.
For which thy Absence pays too dear a Rate.
O e're my Hopes and Joys had found their Graves,
Why did not Paris perish by the Waves?
I should not then pass tedious Nights alone,
Courting with fervent Breath the rising Sun;
But all in vain, for Day is Night to me,
Nor Day nor Night brings Comfort, only Thee.
My tender Hands with weaving would not tire,
Nor my soft Thoughts with unobtain'd Desire.
Still did my mind new fearful Forms present
To kill my Hopes, and raise my Discontent.
Love, Jealous Love, has more than Eagles Eyes
To spy out Sorrows but o'er look our Joys;
I fancy'd furious Trojans still were nigh
To slay my Lord, and all my Hopes destroy.
As there the Arms of Hector still prevail,
Here at his very Name my Cheeks grew pale;
When told Antilochus by him was slain,
My Hopes decay'd, my Fears reviv'd again.
I wept when young Patroclus was o'erthrown,
To find how weak the Arts of Wit were grown.
The Deeds of fierce Tlepolemus alarm'd
My tender Soul, and all my Spirits charm'd.
Each fatal Scene Grief to my Heart did show,
Whate'er they felt, I suffer'd here for you.
But virtuous Love propitious Heav'n befriends,
My Husband's safe, on whom my life depends;
Troy is o'erthrown, and all our Sorrow ends.
The Grecians Triumph, they at large declare
The Fall of Ilium, and the Foes Despair.
Old men and tender Maids with Pleasure hear
The fatal end of all their Griefs and Fear.
The joyful Wife from soft Embraces now
Will hardly time to hear these Tales allow,
Forgets long Absence and renews her Vow.
Some on the Tables their feign'd Combats draw,
With sparing Bowls the Victor speaks his Joy,
And with spilt Wine describes the famous Troy:
Here, says he, Priam's Palace did appear,
The far-fam'd River Simois glided here;
Here 'twas Achilles fought, Ulysses too;
At that to guard my Heart my Spirits flew:
Achilles mighty Name pass'd carelss by,
But at this Name Penelope could dye.
One shows the Place where mangled Hector lay,
To fierce Achilles' Fury made a Prey,
Describes the horses which his Body drew,
Taught by an Instinct they before ne'er knew,
To fear the Man, who could no more pursue.
Breathless on Earth was laid the Soul of Troy,
The Army's Triumph and the City's Joy.
This Nestor told your Son, whom my fond haste
Sent to enquire of Dangers which were past.
He told how Resus was with Dolon slain;
These tedious Tales did but augment my Pain,
I listen'd still to hear of you again.
How truly Valiant were you, tho' Unkind?
You little thought of what you left behind,
When in the Night you ventur'd to invade
The Thracian Camp, my Soul was fill'd with dread.
Assisted but by one their Strength you prove,
Too strong your Courage, but too weak your Love.
But what remains to me for Conquests past,
If, like that City, still my Hopes lye waste?
Your Presence would my springing Joy renew;
Would Troy were glorious still, so I had you...





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