University of Virginia Library


5

THE FIFTEENTH BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.


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The ARGUMENT. The Return of Telemachus.

The Goddess Minerva commands Telemachus in a Vision to return to Ithaca. Pisistratus and he take leave of Menelaus, and arrive at Pylos, where they part; and Telemachus sets sail, after having received on board Theoclymenus the Soothsayer, The Scene then changes to the Cottage of Eumæus, who entertains Ulysses with a recital of his adventures. In the mean time Telemachus arrives on the Coast, and sending the vessel to the town, proceeds by himself to the lodge of Eumæus.


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Now had Minerva reach'd those ample plains,
Fam'd for the dance, where Menelaus reigns;
Anxious she flies to great Ulysses' heir,
His instant voyage challeng'd all her care.

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Beneath the royal Portico display'd,
With Nestor's Son, Telemachus was lay'd;

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In sleep profound the Son of Nestor lies;
Not thine, Ulysses! Care unfeal'd his eyes:

10

Restless he griev'd, with various fears opprest,
And all thy fortunes roll'd within his breast.

11

When, O Telemachus! (the Goddess said)
Too long in vain, too widely hast thou stray'd.
Thus leaving careless thy paternal right
The robbers prize, the prey to lawless might.
On fond pursuits neglectful while you roam,
Ev'n now, the hand of Rapine sacks the dome.
Hence to Atrides; and his leave implore
To launch thy vessel for thy natal shore:
Fly, whilst thy Mother virtuous yet withstands
Her kindred's wishes, and her Sire's commands;

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Thro' both, Eurymachus pursues the dame,
And with the noblest gifts asserts his claim.
Hence therefore, while thy stores thy own remain;
Thou know'st the practice of their female train.
Lost in the children of the present spouse
They slight the pledges of the former vows;
Their love is always with the lover past;
Still the succeeding flame expells the last.
Let o'er thy house some chosen maid preside,
Till heav'n decrees to bless thee in a bride.

13

But now thy more attentive ears incline,
Observe the warnings of a pow'r divine:
For thee their snares the Suitor Lords shall lay
In Samos sands, or streights of Ithaca,
To seize thy life shall lurk the murd'rous band,
Ere yet thy footsteps press thy native land.
No—sooner far their riot and their lust
All-cov'ring earth shall bury deep in dust!
Then distant from the scatter'd Islands steer,
Nor let the night retard thy full career;
Thy heav'nly guardian shall instruct the gales
To smooth thy passage, and supply thy sails:
And when at Ithaca thy labour ends,
Send to the town thy vessel with thy friends,
But seek thou first the Master of the swine,
(For still to thee his loyal thoughts incline)
There pass the night; while he his course pursues
To bring Penelope the wish'd-for news,
That thou safe sailing from the Pylian strand
Art come to bless her in thy native land.
Thus spoke the Goddess, and resum'd her flight
To the pure regions of eternal light.
Mean-while Pisistratus he gently shakes,
And with these words the slumb'ring youth awakes.

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Rise, son of Nestor! for the road prepare,
And join the harness'd coursers to the car.
What cause, he cry'd, can justifie our flight,
To tempt the dangers of forbidding night?
Here wait we rather, till approaching day
Shall prompt our speed, and point the ready way.
Nor think of flight before the Spartan King
Shall bid farewel, and bounteous presents bring;
Gifts, which to distant ages safely stor'd,
The sacred act of friendship shall record.
Thus he. But when the dawn bestreak'd the East,
The King from Helen rose, and sought his guest.
As soon as his approach the Heroe knew,
The splendid mantle round him first he threw,
Then o'er his ample shoulders whirl'd the cloak,
Respectful met the Monarch, and bespoke.
Hail, great Atrides, favour'd of high Jove!
Let not thy Friends in vain for licence move.
Swift let us measure back the wat'ry way,
Nor check our speed, impatient of delay.
If with desire so strong thy bosom glows,
Ill, said the King, shou'd I thy wish oppose;
For oft in others freely I reprove
The ill-tim'd efforts of officious love;

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Who love too much, hate in the like extream,
And both the golden Mean alike condemn.
Alike he thwarts the hospitable end,
Who drives the free, or stays the hasty friend;
True friendship's laws are by this rule exprest,
Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
Yet stay, my friends, and in your chariot take
The noblest presents that our love can make:
Mean-time commit we to our women's care
Some choice domestic viands to prepare;
The trav'ler rising from the banquet gay,
Eludes the labours of the tedious way.
Then if a wider course shall rather please
Thro' spacious Argos, and the Realms of Greece,
Atrides in his chariot shall attend;
Himself thy convoy to each royal friend.

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No Prince will let Ulysses' heir remove
Without some pledge, some monument of love:
These will the Chaldron, these the Tripod give,
From those the well-pair'd mules we shall receive,
Or bowl emboss'd whose golden figures live.
To whom the Youth, for prudence fam'd, reply'd.
O Monarch, care of heav'n! thy peoples pride!
No friend in Ithaca my place supplies,
No pow'rful hands are there, no watchful eyes:
My stores expos'd and fenceless house demand
The speediest succour from my guardian hand;
Lest in a search too anxious and too vain
Of one lost joy, I lose what yet remain.
His purpose when the gen'rous warrior heard,
He charg'd the houshold cates to be prepar'd.

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Now with the dawn, from his adjoining home,
Was Boethœdes Eteoneus come;
Swift as the word he forms the rising blaze,
And o'er the coals the smoaking fragments lays.
Mean-time the King, his Son, and Helen, went
Where the rich wardrobe breath'd a costly scent.
The King selected from the glitt'ring rows
A bowl; the Prince a silver beaker chose.
The beauteous Queen revolv'd with careful eyes
Her various textures of unnumber'd dies,
And chose the largest; with no vulgar art
Her own fair hands embroider'd ev'ry part:
Beneath the rest it lay divinely bright,
Like radiant Hesper o'er the gems of night.

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Then with each gift they hasten'd to their guest,
And thus the King Ulysses' heir addrest.
Since fix'd are thy resolves, may thund'ring Jove
With happiest omens thy desires approve!
This silver bowl, whose costly margins shine
Enchas'd with gold, this valu'd gift be thine;
To me this present, of Vulcanian frame,
From Sidon's hospitable Monarch came;
To thee we now consign the precious load,
The pride of Kings, and labour of a God.
Then gave the cup; while Megapenthe brought
The silver vafe with living sculpture wrought.
The beauteous Queen, advancing next, display'd
The shining veil, and thus endearing said.
Accept, dear youth, this monument of love,
Long since, in better days, by Helen wove:

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Safe in thy mother's care the vesture lay,
To deck thy bride, and grace thy nuptial day.
Mean-time may'st thou with happiest speed regain
Thy stately palace, and thy wide domain.
She said, and gave the veil; with grateful look
The Prince the variegated present took.
And now, when thro' the royal dome they pass'd,
High on a throne the King each stranger plac'd.
A golden ew'r th' attendant damsel brings,
Replete with water from the crystal springs;
With copious streams the shining vase supplies
A silver laver of capacious size.
They wash. The tables in fair order spread,
The glitt'ring canisters are crown'd with bread;
Viands of various kinds allure the taste
Of choicest sort and savour; rich repast!
Whilst Eteoneus portions out the shares,
Atrides' son the purple draught prepares.
And now (each sated with the genial feast,
And the short rage of thirst and hunger ceast)
Ulysses' son, with his illustrious friend,
The horses join, the polish'd car ascend.
Along the court the fiery steeds rebound,
And the wide portal echoes to the sound.

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The king precedes; a bowl with fragrant wine
(Libation destin'd to the Pow'rs divine)
His right-hand held: before the steeds he stands,
Then, mix'd with pray'rs, he utters these commands.
Farewel and prosper, youths! let Nestor know
What grateful thoughts still in this bosom glow,
For all the proofs of his paternal care,
Thro' the long dangers of the ten-years war.
Ah! doubt not our report (the Prince rejoin'd)
Of all the virtues of thy generous mind.
And oh! return'd might we Ulysses meet!
To him thy presents shew, thy words repeat:

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How will each speech his grateful wonder raise?
How will each gift indulge us in thy praise?
Scarce ended thus the Prince, when on the right
Advanc'd the bird of Jove: auspicious sight!
A milkwhite fowl his clinching talons bore,
With care domestic pamper'd at the floor.
Peasants in vain with threatning cries pursue,
In solemn speed the bird majestic flew
Full dexter to the car: the prosp'rous sight
Fill'd ev'ry breast with wonder and delight.
But Nestor's son the chearful silence broke,
And in these words the Spartan chief bespoke.
Say if to us the Gods these Omens send,
Or fates peculiar to thy self portend?
Whilst yet the Monarch paus'd, with doubts opprest,
The beauteous Queen reliev'd his lab'ring breast.
Hear me, she cry'd, to whom the Gods have giv'n
To read this sign, and mystick sense of heav'n.

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As thus the plumy sov'reign of the air
Left on the mountain's brow his callow care,
And wander'd thro' the wide ethereal way
To pour his wrath on yon luxurious prey;
So shall thy god-like father, toss'd in vain
Thro' all the dangers of the boundless main,
Arrive, (or is perchance already come)
From slaughter'd gluttons to release the dome.
Oh! if this promis'd bliss by thund'ring Jove,
(The Prince reply'd) stand fix'd in fate above;

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To thee, as to some God, I'll temples raise,
And crown thy altars with the costly blaze.
He said; and bending o'er his chariot, flung
Athwart the fiery steeds the smarting thong;
The bounding shafts upon the harness play,
'Till night descending intercepts the way.
To Diocles, at Phæræ, they repair,
Whose boasted Sire was sacred Alpheus' heir;
With him all night the youthful strangers stay'd,
Nor found the hospitable rites unpay'd.
But soon as morning from her orient bed
Had ting'd the mountains with her earliest red,
They join'd the steeds and on the chariot sprung;
The brazen portals in their passage rung.
To Pylos soon they came; when thus begun
To Nestor's heir Ulysses' god-like son:
Let not Pisistratus in vain be prest,
Nor unconsenting hear his friend's request;
His friend by long hereditary claim,
In toils his equal, and in years the same.
No farther from our vessel, I implore,
The coursers drive; but lash them to the shore.

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Too long thy father would his friend detain;
I dread his proffer'd kindness, urg'd in vain.
The Heroe paus'd, and ponder'd this request,
While love and duty warr'd within his breast.
At length resolv'd, he turn'd his ready hand,
And lash'd his panting coursers to the strand.
There, while within the poop with care he stor'd
The regal presents of the Spartan Lord;
With speed be gone, (said he) call ev'ry mate,
Ere yet to Nestor I the tale relate:

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'Tis true, the fervor of his gen'rous heart
Brooks no repulse, nor could'st thou soon depart:
Himself will seek thee here, nor wilt thou find,
In words alone, the Pylian Monarch kind.
But when arriv'd he thy return shall know,
How will his breast with honest fury glow?
This said, the sounding strokes his horses fire,
And soon he reach'd the Palace of his Sire.
Now, (cry'd Telemachus) with speedy care
Hoise ev'ry sail, and ev'ry oar prepare.
Swift as the word his willing mates obey,
And seize their seats, impatient for the sea.
Mean-time the Prince with sacrifice adores
Minerva, and her guardian aid implores;
When lo! a wretch ran breathless to the shore,
New from his crime, and reeking yet with gore.
A Seer he was, from great Melampus sprung,
Melampus, who in Pylos flourish'd long,

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'Till urg'd by wrongs a foreign realm he chose,
Far from the hateful cause of all his woes.
Neleus his treasures one long year detains;
As long, he groan'd in Phylacus his chains:
Mean-time, what anguish and what rage combin'd,
For lovely Pero rack'd his lab'ring mind!
Yet 'scap'd he death; and vengeful of his wrong
To Pylos drove the lowing herds along:
Then (Neleus vanquish'd, and consign'd the Fair
To Bias' arms) he sought a foreign air;
Argos the rich for his retreat he chose,
There form'd his empire; there his palace rose.
From him Antiphates and Mantius came:
The first begot Oicleus great in fame,
And he Amphiaraus, immortal name!

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The people's Saviour, and divinely wise,
Belov'd by Jove, and him who gilds the skies,
Yet short his date of life! by female pride he dies.
From Mantius Clitus, whom Aurora's love
Snatch'd for his beauty to the thrones above:

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And Polyphides on whom Phœbus shone
With fullest rays, Amphiaraus now gone;
In Hyperesia's groves he made abode,
And taught mankind the counsels of the God.
From him sprung Theoclymenus, who found
(The sacred wine yet foaming on the ground)

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Telemachus: whom, as to heav'n he prest
His ardent vows, the stranger thus addrest.
O thou! that dost thy happy course prepare
With pure libations, and with solemn pray'r;
By that dread pow'r to whom thy vows are paid;
By all the lives of these; thy own dear head,
Declare sincerely to no foe's demand
Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land.

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Prepare then, said Telemachus, to know
A tale from falshood free, not free from woe.
From Ithaca, of royal birth I came,
And great Ulysses (ever honour'd name!)
Was once my Sire: tho' now for ever lost
In Stygian gloom he glides a pensive ghost!
Whose fate enquiring, thro' the world we rove;
The last, the wretched proof of filial love.
The Stranger then. Nor shall I ought conceal,
But the dire secret of my fate reveal.
Of my own tribe an Argive wretch I slew;
Whose pow'rful friends the luckless deed pursue
With unrelenting rage, and force from home
The blood-stain'd exile, ever doom'd to roam.
But bear, oh bear me o'er yon azure flood;
Receive the suppliant! spare my destin'd blood!
Stranger (reply'd the Prince) securely rest
Affianc'd in our faith; henceforth our guest.
Thus affable, Ulysses' God-like heir
Takes from the stranger's hand the glitt'ring spear:
He climbs the ship, ascends the stern with haste,
And by his side the guest accepted plac'd.
The chief his orders gives: th' obedient band
With due observance wait the chief's command:

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With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind
The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind.
Minerva calls; the ready gales obey
With rapid speed to whirl them o'er the sea.
Crunus they pass'd, next Chalcis roll'd away,
When thick'ning darkness clos'd the doubtful day;

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The silver Phæa's glitt'ring Rills they lost,
And skim'd along by Elis' sacred coast.
Then cautious thro' the rocky reaches wind,
And turning sudden, shun the death design'd.
Mean-time the King, Eumæus, and the rest,
Sate in the Cottage, at their rural feast:
The banquet past, and satiate ev'ry man,
To try his host Ulysses thus began.
Yet one night more, my friends, indulge your guest,
The last I purpose in your walls to rest:
To-morrow for my self I must provide,
And only ask your counsel, and a guide:
Patient to roam the street, by hunger led,
And bless the friendly hand that gives me bread.

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There in Ulysses' roof I may relate
Ulysses' wand'rings to his royal mate;
Or mingling with the suitors haughty train,
Not undeserving, some support obtain.
Hermes to me his various gifts imparts,
Patron of industry and manual arts:
Few can with me in dext'rous works contend,
The pyre to build, the stubborn oak to rend;
To turn the tasteful viand o'er the flame;
Or foam the goblet with a purple stream.
Such are the tasks of men of mean estate,
Whom Fortune dooms to serve the rich and great,

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Alas! (Eumæus with a sigh rejoin'd)
How sprung a thought so monstrous in thy mind?
If on that god-less race thou wouldst attend,
Fate owes thee sure a miserable end!
Their wrongs and blasphemies ascend the sky,
And pull descending vengeance from on high.
Not such, my friend, the servants of their feast:
A blooming train in rich embroid'ry drest,
With earth's whole tribute the bright table bends,
And smiling round celestial Youth attends.
Stay then: no eye askance beholds thee here;
Sweet is thy converse to each social ear;
Well pleas'd, and pleasing, in our cottage rest,
Till good Telemachus accepts his guest
With genial gifts, and change of fair attires,
And safe conveys thee where thy soul desires.
To him the Man of woes. O gracious Jove!
Reward this stranger's hospitable love,

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Who knows the son of sorrow to relieve,
Chears the sad heart, nor lets affliction grieve.
Of all the ills unhappy mortals know,
A life of wand'rings is the greatest woe:
On all their weary ways wait Care and Pain,
And Pine and Penury, a meagre train.
To such a man since harbour you afford,
Relate the farther fortunes of your Lord;
What cares his Mother's tender breast engage,
And Sire, forsaken on the verge of age;

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Beneath the sun prolong they yet their breath,
Or range the house of darkness and of death?
To whom the Swain. Attend what you enquire.
Laertes lives, the miserable sire,
Lives, but implores of ev'ry pow'r to lay
The burden down, and wishes for the day.
Torn from his offspring in the eve of life,
Torn from th' embraces of his tender wife,
Sole, and all comfortless he wastes away,
Old age untimely posting ere his day.
She too, sad Mother! for Ulysses lost
Pin'd out her bloom, and vanish'd to a ghost.
(So dire a fate, ye righteous Gods! avert,
From ev'ry friendly, ev'ry feeling heart!)
While yet she was, tho' clouded o'er with grief,
Her pleasing converse minister'd relief:
With Ctimene, her youngest daughter, bred,
One roof contain'd us, and one table fed.
But when the softly-stealing pace of time
Crept on from childhood into youthful prime,
To Samos' Isle she sent the wedded fair;
Me to the fields, to tend the rural care;
Array'd in garments her own hands had wove,
Nor less the darling object of her love.

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Her hapless death my brighter days o'ercast,
Yet Providence deserts me not at last;
My present labours food and drink procure,
And more, the pleasure to relieve the poor.
Small is the comfort from the Queen to hear
Unwelcome news, or vex the royal ear;
Blank and discountenanc'd the servants stand,
Nor dare to question where the proud command:
No profit springs beneath usurping pow'rs;
Want feeds not there, where Luxury devours,

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Nor harbours Charity where Riot reigns:
Proud are the lords, and wretched are the swains.
The suff'ring chief at this began to melt;
And, oh Eumæus! thou (he cries) hast felt
The spite of fortune too! her cruel hand
Snatch'd thee an infant from thy native land!
Snatch'd from thy parents arms, thy parents eyes,
To early wants! a man of miseries!
Thy whole sad story, from its first, declare:
Sunk the fair City by the rage of war,
Where once thy parents dwelt? or did they keep
In humbler life, the lowing herds and sheep?
So left perhaps to tend the fleecy train,
Rude Pyrates seiz'd, and shipp'd thee o'er the main?
Doom'd a fair prize to grace some Prince's board,
The worthy purchase of a foreign lord.
If then my fortunes can delight my friend,
A story fruitful of events, attend:
Another's sorrow may thy ear enjoy,
And wine the lengthen'd intervals employ.

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Long nights the now-declining year bestows;
A part we consecrate to soft repose,
A part in pleasing talk we entertain;
For too much rest itself becomes a pain.
Let those, whom sleep invites, the call obey,
Their cares resuming with the dawning day:
Here let us feast, and to the feast be join'd
Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind;
Review the series of our lives, and taste
The melancholy joy of evils past:

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For he who much has suffer'd, much will know;
And pleas'd remembrance builds delight on woe.
Above Ortygia
Far hence remote, and Syria is the name;
(There curious eyes inscrib'd with wonder trace
The Sun's diurnal, and his annual race)

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Not large, but fruitful; stor'd with grass to keep
The bellowing oxen, and the bleating sheep;

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Her sloping hills the mantling vines adorn,
And her rich vallies wave with golden corn.
No want, no famine the glad natives know,
Nor sink by sickness to the shades below;
But when a length of years unnerves the strong.
Apollo comes, and Cynthia comes along,
They bend the silver bow with tender skill,
And void of pain, the silent arrows kill.
Two equal tribes this fertile land divide,
Where two fair cities rise with equal pride,
But both in constant peace one Prince obey,
And Ctesius there, my father, holds the sway.
Freighted, it seems, with toys of ev'ry sort
A ship of Sidon anchor'd in our port;

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What-time it chanc'd the palace entertain'd,
Skill'd in rich works, a woman of their land.
This nymph, where anchor'd the Phœnician train
To wash her robes descending to the main,
A smooth-tongu'd sailor won her to his mind;
(For Love deceives the best of woman-kind.)
A sudden trust from sudden liking grew;
She told her name, her race, and all she knew.

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I too (she cry'd) from glorious Sidon came,
My father Arybas, of wealthy fame;
But snatch'd by pyrates from my native place,
The Taphians sold me to this man's embrace.
Haste then (the false designing youth reply'd)
Haste to thy country; love shall be thy guide:
Haste to thy father's house, thy father's breast,
For still he lives, and lives with riches blest.
“Swear first (she cry'd) ye sailors! to restore
“A wretch in safety to her native shore.
Swift as she ask'd, the ready sailors swore.
She then proceeds: Now let our compact made
Be nor by signal nor by word betray'd,
Nor near me any of your crew descry'd
By road frequented, or by fountain-side.
Be Silence still our guard. The Monarch's spies
(For watchful Age is ready to surmize)
Are still at hand; and this reveal'd must be
Death to your selves, eternal chains to me.
Your vessel loaded, and your traffic past,
Dispatch a wary messenger with haste:
Then gold and costly treasures will I bring,
And more, the infant offspring of the King.

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Him, child-like wand'ring forth, I'll lead away,
(A noble prize!) and to your ship convey.
Thus spoke the dame, and homeward took the road.
A year they traffic, and their vessel load.
Their stores compleat, and ready now to weigh,
A spy was sent their summons to convey:
An artist to my father's palace came,
With gold and amber chains, elab'rate frame:
Each female eye the glitt'ring links employ,
They turn, review, and cheapen ev'ry toy.
He took th' occasion as they stood intent,
Gave her the sign, and to his vessel went.
She strait pursu'd, and seiz'd my willing arm;
I follow'd smiling, innocent of harm.
Three golden goblets in the porch she found,
(The guests not enter'd, but the table crown'd)

46

Hid in her fraudful bosom, these she bore:
Now set the sun, and darken'd all the shore.
Arriving then, where tilting on the tydes
Prepar'd to launch the freighted vessel rides;
Aboard they heave us, mount their decks, and sweep
With level oar along the glassy deep.
Six calmy daysand six smooth nights we sail,
And constant Jove supply'd the gentle gale.
The sev'nth, the fraudful wretch, (no cause descry'd)
Touch'd by Diana's vengeful arrow,
Down dropt the caitiff corse, a worthless load,
Down to the deep; there roll'd the future food
Of fierce sea-wolves, and monsters of the flood.
An helpless infant I remain'd behind;
Thence born to Ithaca by wave and wind;
Sold to Laertes, by divine command,
And now adopted to a foreign land.

47

To him the King. Reciting thus thy cares,
My secret soul in all thy sorrows shares:
But one choice blessing (such as Jove's high will)
Has sweeten'd all thy bitter draught of ill:
Torn from thy country to no hapless end,
The Gods have, in a master, giv'n a friend.
Whatever frugal nature needs is thine,
(For she needs little) daily bread and wine.
While I, so many wand'rings past and woes,
Live but on what thy poverty bestows.
So past in pleasing dialogue away
The night; then down to short repose they lay;
'Till radiant rose the messenger of day.
While in the port of Ithaca, the band
Of young Telemachus approach'd the land;

48

Their sails they loos'd, they lash'd the mast aside,
And cast their anchors, and the cables ty'd:
Then on the breezy shore descending, join
In grateful banquet o'er the rosy wine.
When thus the Prince: Now each his course pursue;
I to the fields, and to the city you.
Long absent hence, I dedicate this day
My swains to visit, and the works survey.
Expect me with the morn, to pay the skies
Our debt of safe return, in feast and sacrifice.
Then Theoclymenus. But who shall lend,
Mean-time, protection to thy stranger-friend?
Strait to the Queen and Palace shall I fly,
Or yet more distant, to some Lord apply?
The Prince return'd. Renown'd in days of yore
Has stood our Father's hospitable door;
No other roof a stranger shou'd receive,
Nor other hands than ours the welcome give.

49

But in my absence riot fills the place,
Nor bears the modest Queen a stranger's face,
From noiseful revel far remote she flies,
But rarely seen, or seen with weeping eyes.
No—let Eurymachus receive my guest,
Of nature courteous, and by far the best;
He wooes the Queen with more respectful flame,
And emulates her former husband's fame:
With what success, 'tis Jove's alone to know,
And the hop'd nuptials turn to joy or woe.

50

Thus speaking, on the right up-soar'd in air
The hawk, Apollo's swift-wing'd messenger;
His deathful pounces tore a trembling dove;
The clotted feathers scatter'd from above
Between the Heroe and the Vessel pour
Thick plumage, mingled with a sanguine show'r.
Th' observing Augur took the Prince aside,
Seiz'd by the hand, and thus prophetic cry'd.

51

Yon bird that dexter cuts th' aerial road,
Rose ominous, nor flies without a God:
No race but thine shall Ithaca obey,
To thine, for ages, heav'n decrees the sway.
Succeed the Omen, Gods! (the youth rejoin'd)
Soon shall my bounties speak a grateful mind,
And soon each envy'd happiness attend
The man, who calls Telemachus his friend.
Then to Peiræus—Thou whom time has prov'd
A faithful servant, by thy Prince belov'd!
Till we returning shall our guest demand,
Accept this charge, with honour, at our hand.
To this Peiræus; Joyful I obey,
Well pleas'd the hospitable rites to pay.
The presence of thy guest shall best reward
(If long thy stay) the absence of my Lord.

52

With that, their anchors he commands to weigh,
Mount the tall bark, and launch into the sea.
All with obedient haste forsake the shores,
And plac'd in order, spread their equal oars.
Then from the deck the Prince his sandals takes;
Pois'd in his hand the pointed jav'lin shakes.
They part; while less'ning from the Hero's view,
Swift to the town the well-row'd gally flew:
The Heroe trod the margin of the main,
And reach'd the mansion of his faithful swain.
 

Neither this book, nor indeed some of the following, are to be reckon'd among the most shining parts of the Odyssey. They are narrative, and generally low; yet natural, and just enough, considering Homer was resolv'd to describe and follow low life so very minutely. This great Poet here resembles an evening Sun; he has not the same heat or brightness; there are several little clouds about him, tho' in some places gilded and adorn'd: however, to make us amends, he breaks out again before the conclusion of his course, and sets at last in glory.

There is no doubt, but all the parts of a Poem are not capable of equal lustre; nay, they ought not to dazzle us alike, or tire us by a perpetual strain upon the imagination. But in these cooler relations a Translator has a hard task: He is expected to shine, where the Author is not bright: and the unreasonable Critic demands a Copy more noble than the Original. 'Tis true, these are the passages of which he ought to take particular care, and to set them off to the best advantage: But however he may polish a vulgar stone, it will still retain its inherent degree of cloudiness; and the man is ignorant indeed, who thinks one can make it a Diamond.

The story now turns to Telemachus, and the Poet briefly describes his voyage to his country: There is a necessity to be concise, for the Heroe of an Epic Poem is never to be out of sight, after his introduction. The little time that Homer employs in the return of Telemachus is not spent unusefully by Ulysses; during this interval, he learns the state of his publick and domestick affairs from Eumæus, and prepares the way for the destruction of the Suitors, the chief design of the whole Odyssey. There is another reason why the Poet ought not to dwell at large upon the story of Telemachus; he bears but an incidental relation to the Odyssey, and consequently Homer was necessitated to pass over his actions with brevity, that he might describe the Heroe of his Poem at full length. It has been objected, that no mention has been made of any action at all of Telemachus during his whole stay with Menelaus, and that he lies there idly, without making his voyage contribute any thing to the restitution of Ulysses; but from the former observation it is evident, that this silence in the Poet proceeds from judgment; nothing is to be inserted in an Epic Poem but what has some affinity with the main design of it: but what affinity could the actions of Telemachus in the Spartan court have with those of Ulysses? This would have been to make two Heroes in one Poem, and would have broken the unity of the action; whereas by the contrary conduct Homer unites the two stories, and makes the voyage of Telemachus subservient to the chief action; namely, the restitution of Ulysses. Telemachus undertakes a voyage to make enquiry after Ulysses; this the Poet fully describes, because it has an immediate relation to Ulysses; but passes over all other adventures during the absence of Telemachus, because they have no relation to the design.

I know it has been objected, that the whole story of Telemachus is foreign to the Odyssey, and that the four first books have not a sufficient connection with the rest of the Poem, and therefore that there is a double action: But this objection will cease, if it be made appear, that this voyage contributes to the restoration of Ulysses; for whatever incident has such an effect is united to the subject, and essential to it. Now that this voyage has such an effect is very evident; the suitors were ready to seize the throne of Ulysses, and compel his wife to marry; but by this voyage Telemachus breaks their whole designs. Instead of usurping the throne, they are obliged to defend themselves: they defer their purpose, and waste much time in endeavouring to intercept him in his return. By this method leisure is gain'd from the violence and addresses of the suitors, till Ulysses returns and brings about his own re-establishment. This voyage therefore is the secret source from which all the happiness of Ulysses flows: for had not Telemachus sailed to Pyle, Penelope must have been compell'd to marry, and the throne of Ulysses usurped. I have been more large upon this objection, because many foreign Critics lay great weight upon it. See Note XIX on the first book.

There has lately been a great dispute amongst the French, concerning the length of the stay of Telemachus from his country. The debate is not very material, nor is it very difficult to settle that point. Telemachus sail'd from Ithaca in the evening of the second day, and returns to it on the thirty eighth in the morning, so that he is absent thirty five days compleatly.

If this had been related by an Historian, he would have only said that Telemachus judged it necessary for his affairs to sail back to his own country; but a Poet steps out of the common beaten road, ascribes the wisdom of that Heroe to the Goddess of it, and introduces her in person, to give a dignity to his Poetry.

The Reader may consult in general the extracts from Bossu, (plac'd before the Odyssey) concerning machines, or the interposition of Deities in Epic Poetry. I will here beg leave to set them in a different and more particular light.

It has been imagin'd that a Deity is never to be introduc'd but when all human means are ineffectual: If this were true, Minerva would be in vain employ'd in bringing Telemachus back, when a common Messenger might have answer'd that purpose as well as the Goddess. I doubt not but the verse of Horace has led many into this error;

Nec Deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus.

This rule is to be apply'd only to the Theater, of which Horace there speaks, and means no more, than when the knot of the Play is to be unty'd, and no other way is left for making the discovery, then let a God descend and clear the intricacy to the Auditors. But, as Mr. Dryden observes, it has no relation to Epic Poetry.

It is true, that a Deity is never to be introduc'd upon little and unworthy occasions; the very design of Machines is to add weight and dignity to the story, and consequently an unworthy employment defeats the very intent of them, and debases the Deities by making them act in offices unworthy of the characters of divine personages: But then it is as true, that a Poet is at liberty to use them for ornament as well as necessity. For instance, both Virgil and Homer in their descriptions of storms introduce Deities, Neptune and Æolus, only to fill our minds with grandeur and terror; for in reality a storm might have happen'd without a miracle, and Æneas and Ulysses both have been driven upon unknown shores, by a common storm as well as by immediate interposition of Neptune or Æolus. But machines have a very happy effect; the Poet seems to converse with Gods, gives signs of a divine transport, and distinguishes his Poem in all parts from an History.

Minerva here finds Telemachus in bed: It is necessary to remember that Ulysses landed in Ithaca in the morning of the thirty fifth day; and when Minerva left him, she went to the Spartan court to Telemachus; this vision therefore appears to that Heroe in the night following the thirty fifth day. On the thirty sixth he departs from Menelaus, and lodges that night with Diocles; on the thirty seventh he embarks towards the evening, sails all night, and lands on the thirty eighth in the morning in his own country. From this observation it is likewise evident, that Ulysses passes two days in discourse with Eumæus, tho' the Poet only distinguishes the time by the voyage of Telemachus; for the preceding book concludes with the thirty fifth day, and Telemachus spends the thirty sixth and thirty seventh and the following night in his return, and meets Ulysses in the morning of the thirty eighth day. This remark is necessary to avoid confusion, and to make the two stories of Ulysses and Telemachus coincide, in this and the next book of the Odyssey.

Ovid had these lines in his view in his Epistle of Penelope to Ulysses.

Me pater Icarius viduo decedere lecto
Cogit, & immensas increpat usque moras.

But why should Minerva make use of these arguments, to persuade Telemachus to return immediately; and give him no information concerning the safety of Ulysses, who was now actually landed in his own country? The Poet reserves this discovery to be made in the future part of the story: If Telemachus had known of his father's being already return'd, there could have been no room for the beautiful interview between the father and the son; for the doubts and fears, the surprize and filial tenderness, on the part of Telemachus; and for the paternal fondness, the yearnings of nature, and the transports of joy, on the part of Ulysses. Aristotle particularly commends this conduct of Homer with respect to Ulysses. These disguises and concealments, (says that Author) perplex the fable with agreeable plots and intricacies, surprize us with a variety of incidents, and give room for the relation of many adventures; while Ulysses still appears in assum'd characters, and upon every occasion recites a new History. At the same time the Poet excellently sustains his character, which is every where distinguish'd by a wise and ready dissimulation.

This is not spoken in derogation of Penelope, nor apply'd to her in particular; it is laid down as an universal maxim, and utter'd by the Goddess of wisdom: But (says Madam Dacier) I wish the Poet had told us, if the husbands in his days had better memories toward their departed wives? But what advantage would this be to the fair sex, if we allow that an husband may possibly forget a former wife? I chuse rather to congratulate the modern Ladies, against whom there is not the least objection of this nature. Is it not evident, that all our widows are utterly disconsolate, appear many months in deep mourning? and whenever they are prevail'd upon to a second marriage, do they not chuse out the strongest, best built, and most vigorous youth of the nation? For what other reason, but that such constitutions may be a security against their ever feeling the like calamity again? What I have here said shews that the world is well chang'd since the times of Homer; and however the race of man is dwindled and decayed since those ages, yet it is a demonstration that the modern Ladies are not to blame for it.

Homer has here laid together admirable precepts for social life; the passage was much admir'd; Herodotus borrow'd it, as we are inform'd by Eustathius.

------ τραπεζη
Μειλιζαντ' αποπεμψαι επαν εθελσι νεεσθαι.

But perhaps Eustathius quoted by memory, or thro' inadvertency wrote down Herodotus for Theocritus, in whom these lines are to be found:

Μηδε ξεινοδοκον κακον εμμεναι, αλλα τραπεζα
Μειλιζαντ' αποπεμψαι, επαν εθελωντι νεεσθαι.

It is in the original, He commanded Helen and her maids to do it. The moderns have blam'd Menelaus for want of delicacy, in commanding his Queen to perform such houshold offices. I read such passages with pleasure, because they are exact pictures of antient life: We may as well condemn the first inhabitants of the world for want of politeness, in living in tents and bowers, and not in palaces. This command of Menelaus agrees with those manners, and with the patriarchal life. Gen. xviii. 6. Abraham hasten'd into his tent, and said unto Sarah his wife, make ready quickly three measures of fine meal: Knead it, and makes cakes upon the hearth.

I doubt not but the continual descriptions of entertaiments have likewise given offence to many; but we may be in some degree reconcil'd to them, if we consider they are not only instances of the hospitality of the antients, but of their piety and religion: Every meal was a religious act, a sacrifice, or a feast of thanksgiving: libations of wine, and offerings of part of the flesh were constantly made at every entertainment. This gives a dignity to the description, and when we read it, we are not to consider it as an act merely of eating or drinking, but as an office of worship to the Gods.

This is a note of the Critics; but perhaps the same thing might as well be said of our modern entertainments, wherever the good practice of saying Grace before and after meat is not yet laid aside.

If this passage were translated literally, it would stand thus, Helen chose a vesture of most beautiful embroidery, and of the largest extent, a vesture that lay beneath the rest. We are to understand by the last circumstance, that this vesture was the choicest of her wardrobe, it being reposited with the greatest care, or νειατος αλλων. The verses are taken from lib. 6. of the Iliad. This robe was the work of Helen's own hands; an instance that in those days a great Lady, or a great Beauty, might be a good work-woman: And she here seems to take particular care to obviate an opinion one might otherwise have, that she did not apply herself to these works till her best days were past. We are told in the Iliad,

Her in the Palace: at her loom she found,
The golden web her own sad story crown'd:
The Troian wars she weav'd, her self the prize,
And the dire triumphs of her fatal eyes.

It is not impossible but a false reading may have crept into the text in this verse. In the present edition it stands thus.

------ αι γαρ εγων ως
Νοστησας, Ιθακην δε κιων, Οδυσει ενι οικω
Ειποιμ'. ------

The sense will be less intricate, and the construction more easy, if instead of κιων, we insert κιχων, and read the line thus pointed.

Νοστησας ιθακην δε, κιχων Οδυσει ενι οικω
Ειποιμ'. ------

Then the verse will have this import, “O may I, upon my return to Ithaca, finding Ulysses in his Palace, give him an account of your friendship!” Whereas in the common editions there is a tautology, and either κιων or νοστησας must be allowed to be a superfluity.

It is not clear why the Poet ascribes a greater quickness and penetration to Helen in the solution of this prodigy, than to Menelaus. Is it, as Eustathius asserts, from a superior acuteness of nature and presence of mind in the fair sex? Or is it, that Helen in this resembles some modern beauties, who (tho' their husbands be ask'd the question) will make the answer themselves? I would willingly believe that Helen might happen to stand in such a position, as to be able to make more minute observations upon the flight of the eagle, than Menelaus; and being more circumstantial in the observation, she might for that reason be more ready and circumstantial in the interpretation. But Homer himself tells us, that she receiv'd it from the Gods. This is a pious lesson, to teach us in general that all knowledge is the gift of God, and perhaps here particularly inserted to raise the character of Helen, and make us less surpriz'd to see her forgiven by Menelaus, when she is not only pardon'd, but favour'd thus with inspiration. And indeed it was necessary to reconcile us to this fatal Beauty; at whom the Reader is naturally enough offended: She is an actress in many of the scenes of the Odyssey, and consequently to be redeem'd from contempt: This is done by degrees; the Poet steals away the adultress from our view, to set before us the amiable penitent.

Ulysses is the eagle, the bird represents the suitors: the cries of the men and women when the eagle seiz'd his prey, denote the lamentations of the relations of the suitors, who are slain by Ulysses. The circumstance of the flight of the eagle close to the horses, is added to shew that the prodigy had a fix'd and certain reference to a person present; namely Telemachus: The eagle comes suddenly from a mountain; this means that Ulysses shall unexpectedly arrive from the country to the suitors destruction. The fowl is said to be fed by the family, this is a full designation of the suitors, who feed upon Ulysses, and prey upon his family. And as this bird is kill'd by the talons of the eagle, so the suitors fall by the spear of Ulysses. Eustathius.

This has been objected against, as contrary to the promise of Telemachus, who assur'd Menelaus that he would acquaint Nestor with his great friendship and hospitality; Is he therefore not guilty of falshood, by embarking immediately without fulfilling his promise? Eustathius answers, that the prodigy of the eagle occasions this alteration, and that the not fulfilling his promise is to be ascrib'd to accident and necessity. But the words of Telemachus sufficiently justify his veracity; they are of the plural number καταλεξομεν, I and Pisistratus will inform Nestor of your hospitality: This promise he leaves to be perform'd by Pisistratus, who returns directly to Nestor. Others blame Telemachus as unpolite, in leaving Nestor without any acknowledgment for his civilities. Dacier has recourse to the command of Minerva, and to the prodigy of the eagle, for his vindication: He is commanded by the Gods to return immediately, and therefore not blameable for complying with their injunctions. But perhaps it is a better reason to say, that the nature of the Poem requires such a conduct; the action of the Odyssey stands still till the return of Telemachus (whatever happens to him in Pyle being foreign to it) and therefore Homer shews his judgment, in precipitating the actions of Telemachus, rather than trifling away the time, while the story sleeps, only to shew a piece of complaisance and ceremony.

There is some obscurity in this genealogical History. Melampus was a prophet, he liv'd in Pylos, and was a person of great wealth; his uncle Neleus seiz'd his riches, and detain'd them a whole year, to oblige him to recover his herds detain'd by Iphyclus in Phylace; he fail'd in the attempt, and was kept in prison by Iphyclus, the son of Phylacus. Bias, the brother of Melampus, was in love with Pero the daughter of Neleus; Neleus, to engage Melampus more strongly in the enterprize, promises to give Pero in marriage to his brother Bias, upon the recovery of his herds from Iphyclus. At length Iphyclus releases Melampus from prison, upon his discovering to him how he might have an heir to succeed to his dominions, and rewards him with restoring the herds of Neleus: Then Neleus retracts his promise, and refuses to give his daughter Pero to Bias the brother of Melampus; upon this Neleus and Melampus quarrel, and engaging in a single combat, Neleus is vanquish'd, and Melampus retires to Argos. See lib. XI. v. 350, &c. and the annotations, Note 23.

The Poet means Eryphyle, who, being brib'd with a golden bracelet by Polynices, persuaded her husband Amphiaraus to go to the Theban war, where he lost his life. This is a remarkable passage: Tho' he was lov'd by Jupiter and Apollo, yet he reach'd not to old age. Is a short life the greatest instance of the love of the Gods? Plato quotes the verse to this purpose. “The life of man is so loaded with calamity, that it is an instance of the favour of Heaven to take the burthen from us with speed.” The same Author in Axiochus (if that dialogue be his) asserts, that the Gods, having a perfect insight into human affairs, take speedily to themselves those whom they love. Thus when Trophonius and Agamedes had built a temple to Apollo, they pray'd to receive a blessing the most beneficial to mankind: the God granted their prayers, and they were both found dead the next morning. Thus likewise the Priestess of Juno, when her two sons had yok'd themselves to her chariot, and drawn her for the greater expedition to the temple, pray'd to the Goddess to reward their filial piety; and they both dy'd that night. This agrees with the expression of Menander, He whom the Gods love dies young.

Ον οι θεοι φιλουσιν, αποθνησκει νεος

There is nothing more common than such accounts of men being carried away by Goddesses, in all the Greek Poets; and yet what offends more against credibility? The Poets invented these fables merely out of compliment to the dead. When any person happen'd to be drown'd in a river; if a man, some Water Nymph stole him; if a woman, she was seiz'd to be the wife of the River God. If any were lost at sea, Neptune or some of the Sea Gods or Goddesses had taken them to their beds. But to speak to the present purpose; if any person dy'd in the fields, and his body happen'd not to be found, if he was murther'd and buried, or devour'd by wild beasts, so that no account was heard of his death, he was immediately imagin'd to be taken from the earth by some Deity who was in love with his beauty. Thus Clitus being lost in his morning sports, like Orion while he was hunting, he was fabled to be carry'd to Heav'n by Aurora; being lost at the time of the morning, over which that Deity presides.

We have had a long genealogical digression to introduce Theoclymenus: I fear the whole passage will prove distasteful to an English palate, it not being capable of any ornaments of Poetry. I could wish Homer had omitted or shorten'd such Passages, tho' they might be useful in his age; for by such honourable insertions he made his court to the best families then in Greece. 'Tis true, the story is told concisely, and this occasions some obscurity; distance of time as well as place, makes us see all objects somewhat confusedly and indistinctly. In the days of Homer these stories were universally known, and consequently wanted no explication; the obscurity therefore is not to be charged upon Homer, but to Time, which has defac'd and worn away some parts of the impression, and made the images less discernible.

The use the Poet makes of the adventure of Theoclymenus, is to give encouragement to Telemachus; he assists him with his advice, and by his gift of prophecy explains to him a prodigy in the conclusion of this Book. By this method he connects it with the main action, in giving Telemachus assurances that his affairs hasten to a re-establishment. Besides these short relations are valuable, as they convey to posterity brief histories of antient facts and families that are extant no where else.

These questions may be thought somewhat extraordinary; for what apparent reason is there for this fugitive to be told the name of the parents of Telemachus? But the interrogations are very material; he makes them to learn if Telemachus or his father are friends to the person slain by his hand? if they were, instead of sailing with him, he would have reason to fly from him, as from a person who might take away his life by the laws of the country. Thus in the Hebrew law, Numb. xxxv. 9. The revenger of blood, (ο αγχιστευων, or propinquus) shall slay the murderer, when he meeteth him. But the Jews had cities of refuge, to which the murtherers fled as to a sanctuary: The Greeks in like manner, if the homicide fled into a voluntary exile, permitted him to be in security till the murther was aton'd, either by fulfilling a certain time of banishment, or by a pecuniary mulct or expiation.

I will only further remark the conciseness of these interrogations of Theoclymenus; he asks four questions in a breath, in the compass of one line; his apprehensions of being pursu'd give him no leisure to expatiate. Homer judiciously adapts his Poetry to the circumstances of the murtherer, a man in fear being in great haste to be in security. Telemachus answers with equal brevity, being under a necessity to finish his voyage in the night to avoid the ambush of the suitors. For this reason Homer shortens the relation, and complies with the exigency of Telemachus: With this further view; to unite the subordinate story of Telemachus with that of Ulysses, it being necessary to hasten to the chief action, and without delay carry on the main design of the Odyssey in the re-establishment of Ulysses.

This whole passage has been greatly corrupted; one line is omitted in all our editions of Homer, and the verses themselves are printed erroneously: for thus they stand, lib. 8. p. 539. of Strabo's Geography.

Βαν δε παρα Κρουνους, και Χαλκιδα καλλιρεεθρον,
Δυσσετο τ' ηελιος σκιοωντο τε πασαι αγυιαι,
Η δε Φεας επηβαλλεν αγαλλομενη διος ουρω.

The first line is added from Strabo: thus in Latin,

Præterierunt Crunos, & Chalcida fluentis amœnam.

He writes, αγαλλομενη, for επειγομενη: and φεας, instead of φερας. The course that Telemachus steer'd is thus explain'd by the same Author: He first sail'd northwardly as far as Elis, then he turn'd towards the east, avoiding the direct course to Ithaca, to escape the ambush of the suitors, who lay between Samos and Ithaca. Then he pass'd the Echinades (call'd Θοαι, that is οξειαι, or sharp-pointed by Homer. See Strabo, lib. 10. They are called Oxias by Pliny) lying near the gulph of Corinth, and the mouths of Achelous; thus leaving Ithaca on the east, and passing it, he alters his course again, sails northwardly between Ithaca and Acarnania, and lands on the coast opposite to the Cephallenian ocean, where the Suitors form'd their ambush. The places mention'd by Homer lie in this order, Cruni, Chalcis, and Phea: and are all rivers of small note, or rather brooks, as Strabo expresses it: αδοξων ποταμων ονοματα, μαλλον δε Οχετων.

It is highly probable that Pheæ, and not Pheræ, is the true reading, for Pheræ lay in Messenia, and not in Elis, as Strabo writes, and was in possession of Agamemnon; for he mentions that city amongst the seven which he promises Achilles, in the ninth book of the Iliad.

Sev'n ample Cities shall confess thy sway,
Thee Enope, and Pheræ thee obey.

If it had not been under his dominion, how could he transfer the right to Achilles? besides, it would be absurd to joyn Pheræ directly with Chalcis, when the one was in Messenia, the other in Elis; this would make the course of Telemachus's Navigation unintelligible, if Elis and Messenia were confounded in the relation, and used promiscuously without order or regularity.

I will only add that Strabo in the 20th book of his Geography, instead of Καλλιρεεθρον, reads πετρηεοσσαν, perhaps thro' a slip of his memory.

Mercury was the servant and minister of the Gods, and was feign'd to be the patron of all persons of the like station upon earth; it was supposed to be by his favour that all servants and attendants were successful in their several functions. In this view the connexion will be easy, “I will go (says Ulysses) and offer my service to the suitors, and by the favour of Mercury, who gives success to persons of my condition, shall prosper; for no man is better able to execute the offices of attendance, than my self.” It may be objected, that these functions are unworthy of the character, and beneath the dignity of an Heroe: but Ulysses is obliged to act in his assum'd, not real character; as a beggar, not as a King. Athenæus (lib. 1. p. 18.) vindicates Ulysses in another manner. “Men (says he) in former ages perform'd their own offices, and gloried in their dexterity in such employments. Thus Homer describes Ulysses as the most dextrous man living, in ordering wood for the fire, and in the arts of cookery.” But it is no more derogation to him to put on the appearance of a beggar, than it was to Pallas to assume that of a swain, as she frequently does throughout the Odyssey.

The sense of this passage appears to me very obvious; Dacier renders it, whose violence and insolence is so great, that they regard not the Gods, and that they attack even the heavens. I should rather chuse to understand the words in the more plain and easy construction: Grotius is of this judgment, and thinks they bear the same import as these in Gen. xviii. 21. I will go down and see if they have done according to the cry which is come unto heaven; and indeed there is a great similitude between the expressions.

These questions may seem to be needless, because Ulysses had been fully acquainted with the story of Laertes, and the Death of his mother Anticlea, by the shade of Tiresias; but Ulysses personates a stranger, and to carry on that character, pretends to be unacquainted with all the affairs of his own family. I cannot affirm that such frequent repetitions of the same circumstances are beautiful in Homer; the retirement of Laertes has been frequently mention'd, and the death of Anticlea related in other parts of the Odyssey; however necessary such reiterated accounts may be, I much question whether they will prove entertaining: Homer himself in this place seems to apprehend it, for Eumæus passes over the questions made by Ulysses with a very short answer, and enlarges upon other circumstances, relating to his family and affairs, to give (as Eustathius observes) variety to his Poetry. But this conduct is very judicious upon another account: It lets Ulysses into the knowledge of his condition, and by it he is able to take his measures with the greater certainty, in order to bring about his own re-establishment. This is a demonstration that the objection of Rapin is without foundation; he calls these interviews between Ulysses and Eumæus mere idle fables, invented solely for amusement, and contributing nothing to the action of the Odyssey; but the contrary is true, for Ulysses directs his course according to these informations.

This verse,

Των εφαγοντ', επιοντε, και αιδοιοισιν εδωκα.

has been traduc'd into the utmost obscenity; Eustathius vindicates the expression: It means “I have sustain'd my self with meat and drink by an honest industry, and have got wherewithal to relieve virtue that wants.” He interprets αιδοιοισιν, by ανδρασιν αιδους αξιοις; or, men worthy of regard and honour: ξηνοις και ικεταις. The following words,

------ Ου μειλιχον εστιν ακουσαι
Ουτ' επος, ουτη τιεργον ------

are capable of a double construction, and imply either that I take no delight in hearing of Penelope, she being in distress, and in the power of the suitors; or that the suitors so besiege the palace, that it is impossible for me to hear one gentle word from Penelope, or receive one obliging action from her hand. The preference is submitted to the Reader's judgment; they both contain images of tenderness and humanity.

From hence we may conclude, that the return of Ulysses was probably in the decline of the year, in the latter part of the autumn, and not in the summer; the nights then being short cannot be called Νυκτες αθησφατοι. Eustathius.

This aphorism is agreeable to nature and experience; the same thing is asserted by Hippocrates, Sleep or watchfulness, when excessive, becomes diseases; too much sleep occasions an access of perspiration, and consequently weakens and dissipates the animal spirits. Dacier.

There is undoubtedly a great pleasure in the remembrance of past sufferings: Nay, calamity has this advantage over prosperity; an evil when past turns into a comfort; but a past pleasure, though innocent, leaves in its room an anxiety for the want of it, and if it be a guilty pleasure, a remorse. The reason (observes Eustathius) why past evils delight, is from the consciousness of the praise due to our prudence and patience under them, from the sense of our felicity in being deliver'd from them, and from gratitude to divine providence, which has deliver'd us. It is the joy of good men to believe themselves the favourites of Heaven.

This is an antient name of Delos, so call'd from ορτυξ, a Quail, from the great numbers of those birds found upon that Island. Lycophron, in his obscure way of writing, calls it ορτυξ πτερουμηνη or the winged Quail; perhaps from the fable of Asteria being turn'd into that bird in her flight from Jupiter, and giving name to the Island from the transformation she suffer'd upon it. It is one of the Cyclades, and lies in the Ægean ocean. Syria, or Syros, is another small Island lying eastward of Ithaca, according to true Geography.

The words in Homer are τροπαι ηελιοιο, or solis conversiones. Monsieur Perrault insults the Poet as ignorant of Geography, for placing Syros under the Tropick; an error (says he) which Commentators in vain have labour'd to defend, by having recourse to a Sun-dial of Pherecydes on which the motions of the Sun (the τροπαι ηελιοιο) were design'd. The last defence would indeed be ridiculous, since Pherecydes flourish'd three hundred years after the time of Homer: No one (replies Monsieur Boileau) was ever at any difficulty about the sense of this passage; Eustathius proves that τρηπεσθαι signifies the same as δυνειν, and denotes the setting of the Sun; so that the words mean, that Syros is situate above Ortygia, on that side where the Sun sets, or westerly, προς τα δυτικα μηρη της Ορτυγιας. 'Tis true, Eustathius mentions a bower, Σπηλαιον, in which the conversions of the Sun were figur'd. This indeed would fully vindicate Homer; but Bochart and others affirm, that Eustathius is in an error, and that Syros is so far from lying to the west, or προς τροπας ηελιοιο, that it bears an eastern position both with respect to Ithaca and Delos: How is this objection to be answer'd? Bochart p. 411. of his Geographia sacra, explains it by having recourse to the bower mention'd by Eustathius, in which the motions of the Sun were drawn. Pherecydes (says Hesychius Milesius) having collected the writings of the Phœnicians, from the use of them alone without any instructor, became famous in the world by the strength of his own genius: And Laertius writes, that an Heliotrope made by him was preserv'd in the Island of Syros. Thus it is evident, that he borrow'd his knowledge from the Phœnicians, and probably his skill in Astronomy, they being very expert in that science, by reason of its use in their navigation. Why then might there not be a machine which exhibited the motions of the Sun, made by the Phœnicians, and why might not Homer be acquainted with it? It is probable that Pherecydes took his pattern from this Heliotrope, which being one of the greatest rarities of antiquity, might give a great reputation to Syros, and consequently was worthy to be celebrated by Homer, the great preserver of Antiquities. Fallitur igitur, (says Bochart) Eustathius, cum vult intelligi, quasi sita sit Syrus ad occiduas partes Deli; cum contra Deli ad ortum sit Syrus, non ad occasum; & rem sic se habere ex ipso Homero patet, apud quem Eumæus in Ithaca, Syriam asserit esse trans Delum, quo nihil dici potuit falsius, si Syrus sit ad occasum Deli. If this answer appears to any person too studied and abstruse, the difficulty may be solv'd, by supposing Eumæus speaking of Delos as it lay with respect to Syrus, before he was carry'd from it; for instance, if Syrus lies on the east of Delos to a man in Ithaca, both Ithaca and Delos will lie on the west of Syrus to one of that Island; I would therefore imagine that Eumæus speaks as a native of Syros, and not as a sojourner in Ithaca, and then Delos will lie towards the sun-setting, or προς ηλιου Τροπας: But this last I only propose as a conjecture, not presuming to offer it as a decision.

It is probable that Homer was well acquainted with the nature of this Island, and that it really enjoy'd an admirable temperature of air, and therefore was exceedingly heathful; the fertility of the soil proves the happiness of the air, which would naturally free the inhabitants from the maladies arising from a less salubrious situation. It is for this reason that they are said to be slain by Diana and Apollo. All deaths that were sudden, and without sickness, were ascrib'd to those Deities. Bochart (p. 410.) tells us, that the name of Syros was given to the Island by the Phœnicians; Asira or Sira signifying rich, in their language; or rather it was so called from Sura, or Asura, signifying happy; either of these derivations fully denote the excellence both of the soil and air: and that this name is of Phœnician extract is probable from the words of Homer, who assures us that they stay'd a whole year upon this Island, and consequently had opportunity to know the healthfulness and fertility of it.

Here is a full testimony, that the Phœnicians were remarkable for arts and navigation over all the old world. They were expuls'd from their country by Joshua, (as Bochart informs us) and then settling along the sea coasts, they spread over all the Mediterranean, and by degrees sent out Colonies into Europe, Asia, and Afric; that they were in Afric appears from Procopius, where he mentions a pillar with a Phœnician inscription. Ημεις εσμεν οι φυγοντες αποπροσωπου Ιησου του ληστου υιου Νανη; that is, We are a people that fly from Joshua the son of Nun, the robber; they gave him that title out of resentment for their dispossession. The character they bear in the Scriptures agrees with this in Homer. Isaiah xxiii. 2. The Merchants of Sidon, that pass over the seas; and it likewise appears from the Scriptures, that they excell'd in all arts of embroidery, and works of curiosity.

I was surpriz'd to find that Eustathius mistook this Phœnician woman for the mother of Eumæus; she herself tells us, that she was only his Governess.

Παιδα γαρ ανδρος εηος ενι μεγαροις ατιταλλω.

It is not probable that Eumæus would have painted his own mother in the dress of an adultress, and an abandon'd traytress: Nay, he directly distinguishes his mother from this Phœnician in the sequel of the story, (where he calls her ποτνια μητηρ, or his venerable mother) and when he speaks of the Phœnician, he constantly calls her γυνη, not μητηρ. Nor indeed could he have call'd her ποτνια at all, if she had not been a person of such a detestable character. Spondanus adopts the mistake of Eustathius, and endeavours to vindicate her from the manner of her frailty. Modeste decepta donis, &c. ut eorum libidine obsecundaret, “it was a modest adultery, she being deceived by bribes to yield to their solicitation.” However erroneous this opinion is, yet it shews Spondanus to be a kind and complaisant Casuist.

There is a little incredibility in this narration: for if Eumæus was such an infant as he is describ'd to be at the time when he was betray'd by his Phœnician Governess, what probability is there that he should be able to retain all these particulars so circumstantially? He was not of an age capable of making, or remembring so many observations. The answer is, that he afterwards learn'd them from Laertes, who bought him of the Phœnicians: and no doubt they told him the quality of Eumæus, to enhance the Price and make the better bargain. It is also natural to imagine, that Eumæus, when he grew up to manhood, would be inquisitive after his own birth and fortunes, and therefore might probably learn these particulars from Laertes. Eustathius.

It is evident from this passage, that it is above six days sail from Ithaca to Syros, tho' carried with favourable winds. Dacier.

I would just observe the poetical justice of Homer, in the punishment of this Phœnician. Misfortune generally pursues wickedness, and tho' we escape the vengeance of man, yet heav'n frequently overtakes us when we think we are in security, and death calls us from our impious acquisitions.

Homer has here given us an History of the life of Eumæus; the Episode contains near an hundred lines, and may seem entirely foreign to the action of the Odyssey. I will not affirm that it is in every respect to be justify'd. The main story is at a stand; but we are to consider that this relation takes up but small part of one leisure evening, and that the action cannot proceed till the return of Telemachus. It is of use to set off the character of Eumæus, and shew him to be a person of quality, worthy to be an agent in an Epic Poem, where every character ought to be remote from meanness: So the story has a distant relation to the Odyssey, and perhaps is not to be look'd upon merely as an excrescence from the main building, but a small projection to adorn it.

This is the morning of the thirty eighth day since the beginning of the Odyssey. 'Tis observable that Telemachus takes more time in his return from Pylos, than in sailing thither from his own country; for in the latter end of the second book he sets sail after sun-setting, and reach'd Pyle in the morning: Here he embarks in the afternoon, and yet arrives not at Ithaca till after break of day. The reason of it is not to be ascrib'd to a less prosperous wind, but to the greater compass he was oblig'd to fetch, to escape the ambush of the suitors. In the former voyage he steer'd a direct course; in this, he sails round about to the north of Ithaca, and therefore wastes more time in his voyage to it.

The words in the original are οδυσσηος γεγας εξειν, which may either be render'd, to obtain the honour of marrying Penelope, agreebly to the former part of the verse; or it means that Eurymachus has the fairest hopes to marry Penelope, and obtain the throne or γερας of Ulysses. Hobbs translates the verse almost obscenely in the former sense:

------ He best loves my mother,
And what my father did, would do the same.

The former in my judgment is the better construction, especially because it avoids a tautology, and gives a new image in the second part of the verse, very different from the sense express'd in the former part of it. But of all the meanings it is capable of I should prefer this; “That he courts her upon the most honourable principles, and seems desirous to have the honour of Ulysses, by imitating his worth”; and this is agreeable to the character of Eurymachus, which distinguishes him from all the other Suitors.

The Augury is thus to be interpreted; Ulysses is the hawk, the Suitors the pidgeon; the hawk denotes the valour of Ulysses, being a bird of prey; the pigeon represents the cowardice of the Suitors, that bird being remarkable for her timorous nature. The hawk flies on the right, to denote success to Ulysses.

Homer calls this bird the Messenger of Apollo; not that this augury was sent by that Deity, (tho' that be no forced interpretation) but the expression implies, that the hawk was sacred to Apollo; as the peacock was to Juno, the owl to Pallas, and the eagle to Jupiter. Thus Ælian, anim. lib. 10. c. 14. Αιγυπτιοι τον ιερακα τω Απολλωνι τιμαν εοικασι, &c. and he gives the reason of it, for the hawk is the only bird that is capable to bear the lustre of the Sun without inconvenience and difficulty; the same is said of the eagle, but this hawk is reckon'd to be of the Aquiline kind. It was death among the Ægyptians to kill this bird, because it was dedicated to Apollo.

There is another reason why any bird that was taken notice of by way of augury, may be said to be the messenger of Apollo: that Deity presiding over divination.

The reason why Theoclymenus withdraws Telemachus, while he interprets the Augury, is not apparent at the first view; but he does it out of an apprehension lest he should be over-heard by some of the company, who might disclose the secret to the Suitors, and such a discovery might prove fatal to his own person, or to the fortunes of Telemachus Eustathius.

We find that Telemachus intended to deliver Theoclymenus to the care of Eurymachus: What then is the reason why he thus suddenly alters that resolution, and intrusts him to Peiræus? This is occasion'd by the discovery of the skill of Theoclymenus in Augury: He fears lest the Suitors should extort some prediction from him that might be detrimental to his affairs, or should he refuse it, to the person of Theoclymenus. Eustathius.

This book comprehends somewhat more than the space of two days and one night; for the vision appears to Telemachus a little before the dawn, in the night preceding the thirty sixth day, and he lands in Ithaca on the thirty eighth in the morning.