University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn

edited by Dr. Shelton Mackenzie

collapse sectionI. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 I. 
 II. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
 8. 
 9. 
 10. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5,6. 
 7. 
 8. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse sectionII. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
  
collapse section 
 I. 
 5. 
 9. 
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
collapse sectionIV. 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
IV. The Cloak.
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
collapse sectionV. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


83

IV. The Cloak.

[_]

FROM THE ODYSSEY.—Book XIV. 462–533.


89

I

Now, Eumæus, give ear and my other friends near; a tale
somewhat vaunting I pray you to hear:
For you know heady wine will the sagest incline, like a fool
out of season, in singing to join;
Or unwisely to laugh, or to skip in a dance, and to say what
were best left unspoken perchance.

90

II

But now 'tis too late, since to talk is my fate, for my tongue to
keep back what it means to relate.
Oh! were I as young, and as fresh, and as strong, as when,
under Troy, brother soldiers among,
In ambush as captains were chosen to lie,
Odysseus, and King Menelaus, and I.

III

They called me as third, and I came at the word, and reached
the high walls that the citadel gird,
Where under the town, we in armor lay down by a brake in
the marshes with weeds overgrown;
The night came on sharp, bleak the north wind did blow,
And frostily cold fell a thick shower of snow.

IV

Soon with icicles hoar every shield was frozen o'er; but they
who their cloaks and their body-clothes wore
The night lightly passed, secure from the blast, asleep with
their shields o'er their broad shoulders cast;
But I, like a fool, had my cloak left behind,
Not expecting to shake in so piercing a wind.

V

My buckler and zone, nothing more had I on; but when the
third part of the night-watch was gone,
And the stars left the sky, with my elbow then I touched Odys-
seus, and spoke to him lying close by—
“Noble son of Laertes, Odysseus the wise,
I fear that alive I shall never arise.

91

VI

“In this night so severe but one doublet I wear, deceived by a
god; and my cloak is not here;
And no way I see from destruction to flee.” But soon to relieve
me a project had he.
In combat or council still prompt was his head,
And into my ear thus low-whispering he said:

VII

“Let none of the band this your need understand: keep silent.”
Then, resting his head on his hand,
“Friends and comrades of mine!” he exclaimed, “as a sign,
while I slept has come o'er me a dream all divine:
It has warned me how far from the vessels we lie,
And that some one should go for fresh force to apply.

VIII

“And his footsteps should lead, disclosing our need, to King
Agamemnon, our chieftain, with speed.”
Thoas rose as he spoke, flung off his red cloak, and, running,
his way with the message he took;
While, wrapt in his garment, I pleasantly lay
Till the rise of the golden-throned queen of the day.

IX

If I now were as young, and as fresh, and as strong, perhaps
here in the stables you swineherds among
Some a mantle would lend, as the act of a friend, or from the
respect that on worth should attend:
But small is the honor, I find, that is paid
To one who, like me, is so meanly arrayed.

92

X

Then, keeper of swine, this answer was thine: “The manner,
old man, of thy story is fine,
For there was not a word out of place or absurd: thy request
shall be granted as soon as preferred.
Not a cloak, or aught else, shalt thou want at my hand,
That is fit for a beggar in need to demand;

XI

“Till the night shall pass o'er—in the morning once more, thy
rags must thou don, for we here have no store.
Among cloaks to go range, or of doublets for change—had we
more than one garment a-piece 'twould be strange.
But when the dear son of Odysseus comes back,
Of cloak or of doublet thou never wilt lack.

XII

“Those will he bestow, and send thee to go, wherever thy
thoughts and thy wishes may flow.”
He rose as he said, and laid out a bed—and sheepskins and
goats' upon it he spread;
And next, stretched by the fireside, Odysseus on these,
Lay in cloak large and thick, as he might at his ease.

XIII

To cover his form, at approach of a storm: or to wrap him in
sleep as he there lay down warm—
The young men close by in the couch came to lie, but Eumæus
refusing to stay from the sty,
Was girt to sleep out; while Odysseus was glad
That his herd in his absence such vigilance had.

93

XIV

His sharp sword around his strong shoulders he wound, and
then his thick cloak, wind-defying, he bound;
Next, he put on his coat made of skin of she-goat—of a she-
goat well fed, and of size worthy note.
And he took a sharp spear, with which he might weir the at-
tack or of men or of dogs coming near;
And to lie with the white-toothed porkers went forth,
In a cave of the rock, safely screened from the north.