A robe Antinous gives of shining dyes,
The varying hues in gay confusion rise

Rich from the artist's hand! twelve clasps of gold
Close to the lessening waist the vest infold;
Down from the swelling loins, the vest unbound
Floats in bright waves redundant o'er the ground.
A bracelet rich with gold, with amber gay,
That shot effulgence like the solar ray,
Eurymachus presents: and ear-rings bright,
With triple stars, that cast a trembling light.
Pisander bears a necklace wrought with art;
And every peer, expressive of his heart,
A gift bestows: this done, the queen ascends,
And slow behind her damsel-train attends.

Then to the dance they form the vocal strain,
"Till Hesperus leads forth the starry train;
And now he raises, as the day-light fades,
His golden circlet in the deepening shades:
Three vases heap'd with copious fires display
O'er all the palace a fictitious day;

From space to space the torch wide-beaming burns, And sprightly damsels trim the rays by turns.

To whom the king: Ill suits your sex to stay
Alone with men! ye modest maids, away!
Go, with the queen the spindle guide; or cull
(The partners of her cares) the silver wool;
Be it my task the torches to supply,

E'en till the morning lamp adorns the sky;
E'en till the morning, with unwearied care,
Sleepless I watch; for I have learn'd to bear.

Scornful they heard: Melantho, fair and young,
(Melantho, from the loins of Dolius sprung,
Who with the queen her years an infant led,
With the soft fondness of a daughter bred)
Chiefly derides; regardless of the cares
Her queen endures, polluted joys she shares

Nocturnal with Eurymachus: with eyes
That speak disdain, the wanton thus replies.
O! whither wanders thy distemper'd brain,
Thou bold intruder on a princely train?
Hence to the vagrant's rendezvous repair;
Or shun in some black forge the midnight air.
Proceeds this boldness from a turn of soul,
Or flows licentious from the copious bowl?
Is it that vanquish'd Irus swells thy mind?
A foe may meet thee of a braver kind,
Who, shortening with a storm of blows they stay,
Shall send thee howling all in blood away!

To whom with frowns: O impudent in wrong! Thy lord shall curb that insolence of tongue; Know to Telemachus I tell th' offence:

The scourge, the scourge shall lash thee into sense. With conscious shame they hear the stern rebuke,

Nor longer durst sustain the sovereign look.

Then to the servile task the monarch turns His royal hands: each torch refulgent burns With added day: meanwhile in museful mood, Absorpt in thought, on vengeance fix'd he stood. And now the martial maid, by deeper wrongs To rouse Ulysses, points the suitor's tongues: Scornful of age, to taunt the virtuous man, Thoughtless and gay, Eurymachus began. Hear me (he cries) confederates and friends! Some god no doubt this stranger kindly sends; The shining baldness of his head survey, It aids our torch-light, and reflects the ray. Then to the king that levell'd haughty Troy: Say, if large hire can tempt thee to employ Those hands in work? to tend the rural trade, To dress the walk, and form th' embowering shade? So food and raiment constant will I give;

But idly thus thy soul prefers to live,

And starve by strolling, not by work to thrive. To whom incens'd: Should we, O prince, engage

In rival tasks beneath the burning rage

Of summer suns; were both constrain❜d to wield, Foodless, the scythe along the burthen'd field; Or should we labour while the ploughshare wounds,

With steers of equal strength, th' allotted grounds: Beneath my labours, how thy wondering eyes Might see the sable field at once arise!

Should Jove dire war unloose, with spear, and shield,

And nodding helm, I tread th' ensanguin'd field, Fierce in the van: then would'st thou wouldst thou, say,

Misname me glutton, in that glorious day?

No, thy ill-judging thoughts the brave disgrace; 'Tis thou injurious art, not I am base.

Proud to seem brave among a coward-train!
But know, thou art not valorous, but vain.
Gods! should the stern Ulysses rise in might,
These gates would seem too narrow for thy flight.
While yet he speaks, Eurymachus replies,
With indignation flashing from his eyes:

Slave, I with justice might deserve the wrong,
Should I not punish that opprobrious tongue,
Irreverent to the great, and uncontroll❜d,
Art thou from wine, or innate folly, bold?
Perhaps, these outrages from Irus flow,
A worthless triumph o'er a worthless foe!

He said, and with full force a footstool threw: Whirl'd from his arm with erring rage it flew; Ulysses, cautious of the vengeful foe,

Stoops to the ground, and disappoints the blow.

Not so a youth who deals the goblet round;
Full on his shoulder it inflicts a wound:
Dash'd from his hand the sounding goblet flies,
He shrieks, he reels, he falls, and breathless lies.
Then wild uproar and clamour mounts the sky,
Till mutual thus the peers indignant cry:

O had this stranger sunk to realms beneath,
To the black realms of darkness and of death,
Ere yet he trod these shores! to strife he draws
Peer against peer: and what the weighty cause?
A vagabond! for him the great destroy
In vile ignoble jars, the feast of joy.

To whom the stern Telemachus uprose:
Gods! what wild folly from the goblet flows?
Whence this unguarded openness of soul,
But from the license of the copious bowl?
Or heaven delusion sends. but hence, away!
Force I forbear, and without force obey.

Silent, abash'd they hear the stern rebuke,
Till thus Amphinomus the silence broke.

True are his words, and he whom truth offends,
Not with Telemachus, but truth contends:
Let not the hand of violence invade

The reverend stranger, or the spotless maid;
Retire we hence! but crown with rosy wine
The flowing goblet to the powers divine;
Guard he his guest beneath whose roof he stands:
This justice, this the social right demands.
The peers assent; the goblet Mulius crown'd
With purple juice, and bore in order round:
Each peer successive his libation pours
To the blest gods that fill th' aerial bowers;
Then swill'd with wine, with noise the crowds
obey.

And rushing forth tumultuous, reel away.

THE

ODYSSEY.

BOOK XIX.

THE ARGUMENT.

THE DISCOVERY OF ULYSSES TO EURYCLEA.

Ulysses and his son remove the weapons out of the armory. Ulysses, in conversation with Penelope, gives a fictitious account of his adventures; then assures her he had formerly entertained her hus band in Crete; and describes exactly his person and dress, affirms to have heard of him in Phaacia and Thesprotia, and that his return is certain, and within a month. He then goes to bathe, and is attended by Euryclea, who discovers him to be Ulysses by the scar upon his leg, which he formerly received in hunting the wild boar on Parnassus. The poet inserts a digression, relating that accident with all its particulars.

CONSULTING Secret with the blue-eyed maid, Still in the dome divine Ulysses stay'd: Revenge, mature for act, inflam'd his breast; And thus the son the fervent sire address'd.

Instant convey those steely stores of war
To disant rooms, dispos'd with secret care:
The cause demanded by the suitor train,
To sooth their fears a specious feign:
Say, since Ulysses left his natal coast,
Obscene with smoke, their beamy lustre lost,