Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn :: :: University of Virginia Library

A caldron bright the old woman bore,
To wash the stranger's feet;
Of water cold she poured in store—
Then, to temper the bath, she filled it o'er
With a stream of boiling heat.

II

By the fire Odysseus took his place;
But he quickly turned him round
In the darksome shadow to hide his face,
For he thought that his nurse's hand would trace
The scar of an ancient wound.

III

And he feared that she might with outcry rash
His presence there betray;
And scarcely had she begun to wash,
Ere she was aware of the grisly gash
Above his knee that lay.

IV

It was a wound from a wild boar's tooth,
All on Parnassus' slope,
Where he went to hunt in the days of his youth
With his mother's sire, with whom, in sooth,
In craft could no man cope.

V

By Hermes' grace, with oaths and lies
His fraudful game he played;
And the god, for the blazing sacrifice
Of kids' and lambkins' savory thighs,
Lent him his ready aid.

VI

From Parnassus erst on a journey gone,
To Ithaca's isle he came;
There he found that his daughter had borne a son,
Whom they placed his grandsire's knees upon,
As he sate at the board, his supper done,
And they asked him the boy to name.

VII

And thus spoke out Euryclea fair,
The infant's nurse was she—
“Autolycus, name thy daughter's heir,
Whom thou long hast sought with many a prayer,
Now lying upon thy knee.”

VIII

“Daughter and son,” the old man said,
“What name I bestow, receive;
As many a man, o'er earth wide-spread,
Was odious to me when I hither sped,
Be Odysseus the name I give.

IX

“By such a surname my grandson call;
And when manhood's years shall come,
Send him to visit the ample hall,
Where his mother was born, in Parnassus tall,
And there I shall give him share of all,
And send him rejoicing home.”

X

Seeking these treasures rich and rare,
Odysseus left his land;
To Autolycus' castle he made repair,
And his grandsire, and his uncles there,
Hailed him with friendly hand.

XI

And the heart of his mother's mother was blest
With her dear grandson's sight;
Closely she clasped him to her breast,
And many a kiss on his cheek she prest,
And on his eyes so bright.

XII

Then Autolycus told his sons to spread
A table for the feast;
And willing they did as their father said,
And a five-year-old steer was to slaughter led
In honor of their guest.

XIII

They flay off its hide, they dress the inside,
They cut it up joint by joint;
With skill well tried, the flesh they divide,
And, sliced into steaks, to the fire applied,
Pierced on the toaster's point.

XIV

And when at the fire it was fully done,
Due portions they gave to all;
They sate at the meal until set of sun,
And when they rose, complaint was there none
Of the well-shared festival.

XV

When the sun in night had hid his ray,
They sank in slumber sound;
Until the rose-fingered queen of day
Sprang from the dawn where her birthplace lay,
And wakened man and hound.

XVI

And all at once the chase pursued
Grandson, and son, and sire;
They climbed the mountain crowned with wood,
And soon in the windswept lawns they stood,
Whence Parnassus' heights aspire.

XVII

Uprose the sun from the deep, deep stream
Of ocean's gentle swell,
And the fields were warmed by his genial gleam,
When the huntsmen, by light of the matin beam,
Entered the woody dell.

XVIII

First through the covert burst the pack,
Fast following on the trace;
Came the Autolyci at their back,
Nor did they find Odysseus slack,
With spear in hand, to join the attack,
Or urge along the chase.

XIX

There 'neath thick covering branches laid,
A huge boar had his lair;

So dense the foliage of that glade,
No wind had ever pierced its shade,
On moist wing wafted there.

XX

There never in the midday heat
Was the warm sunbeam seen;
So sheltered was that close retreat,
That never did a rain-storm beat
Athwart its leafy screen.

XXI

And deep all round, the thick-strew ground
With leaves was covered o'er;
But the trampling sound of man and hound,
All bursting in with sudden bound,
Aroused the couchant boar.

XXII

With bristling back, and eye of flame,
In the brake he took his stand;
To the onset first Odysseus came,
Raising his spear with steady aim,
Poised in his sinewy hand.

XXIII

Ready he stood right valiantly
But, ere he had time to strike,
The tusk of the boar, more prompt than he,
Deep through his flesh, above the knee,
Ripped with a stroke oblique.

XXIV

Sharp was the wound, but it touched no bone;
Odysseus then made a thrust;
Through the right shoulder his spear has gone,
Through the off side piercing its point has shone;
And the slaughtered beast, with bellowing moan,
Sunk dead into the dust.

XXV

The Autolyci looked to the boar that was slain,
And their nephew's gash they bound.
They stanched the black blood by a magic strain,
And brought him home to their sire again,
And they healed him of his wound.

XXVI

With presents rich he was sent away,
When his cure was all complete;
Joyful they parted, both he and they,
And to Ithaca's isle he bent his way,
His parents glad to greet.

XXVII

And much of his wound they wished to know,
And his manner he did recount,
How a white-tusked boar had dealt the blow,
While hunting he chanced with his uncles to go,
Upon Parnassus' mount.

XXVIII

Well was it known by that woman old,
The instant she touched the scar;

Down dropped his foot from her slackened hold,
Upset was the laver, and over it roll'd,
Clanging with brazen jar.

XXIX

All on the floor did the water pour.
The old woman's heart beat high;
With joy at once, and with sorrow sore,
Her soul was filled, and, brimming o'er,
Tears dimmed her aged eye.

XXX

And her voice in her throat was prisoned fast,
But ere long the words outburst;
Her suppliant hand to his chin she passed,
And she said, “Thou art he—I know thee at last—
The darling boy I nurst!

XXXI

“I knew thee not, Odysseus, till
Thy skin my hand had pressed.”
Then where the queen was seated still
Cast she her eyes, with eager will,
To tell who was the guest—

XXXII

To say that her husband home returned,
Now sate within her bower.
But her looks Penelope nought discerned,
For the thoughts of her mind elsewhere were turned,
By Athené's watchful power.

XXXIII

Odysseus checked her tongue's career;
Her throat his right hand caught;
Then with his left he drew her near,
And “Nurse,” said he, in tone severe,
“Dost thou my ruin plot?

XXXIV

“Thou plot my ruin! by whose teat
My infancy was fed;
When homeward to my native seat,
After twenty years of toil and sweat,
My wandering course has led!

XXXV

“Now, since to thee my coming here
By a god's aid is known,
Breathe it to none that I am near;
For, mark me, with attentive ear,
Threatening what shall be done—

XXXVI

“If, by Heaven's help, beneath me die
The suitors whom I hate,
Not even to thee, my nurse, shall I
Yield quarter, while around me lie
The handmaids, slain unpityingly,
Within my palace gate.”

XXXVII

Him answered thus Euryclea good:
“What hast thou said, my son?

Firm and inflexible of mood,
I hold thy secret, unsubdued,
As steel or solid stone,

XXXVIII

“But, heed my words. If Heaven should tame
The suitors b'neath thy hand,
Then throughout the household shall I name
The handmaids who wrought disgrace and shame,
And those who blameless stand.”

XXXIX

“Needless, my nurse,” the king replied,
“That this should to me be told;
They all shall be noted, and duly tried.
As for the rest, let the gods provide:
But do thou deep silence hold.”

XL

She went to prepare the bath anew,
For the first was split all round:
He was bathed and anointed in manner due;
To the fire then closer the stool he drew,
And over his knee his rags he threw,
In order to hide the wound.