The souls of the suitors are conducted by Mercury to the infernal shades. Ulysses in the country goes to the retirement of his father Laertes; he finds him busied in his garden all alone: the manner of his discovery to him is beautifully described They return together to his lodge, and the king is acknowledged by Dolius and the servants The Ithacensians, led by Eupithes, the father of Antinous, risea gainst Ulysses, who gives them battle, in which Eupithes is killed by Laertes: and the goddess Pallas makes a lasting peace between Ulysses and his subjects, which concludes the Odyssey.
CYLLENIUS now to Pluto's dreary reign Conveys the dead, a lamentable train! The golden wand, that causes sleep to fly, Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye, That drives the ghosts to realms of night or day, Points out the long uncomfortable way. Trembling the spectres glide and plaintive vent Thin, hollow screams, along the deep descent. As in the cavern of some rifted den,
Where flock nocturnal bats, and birds obscene, Cluster'd they hang, till at some sudden shock, They move, and murmurs run through all the rock:
So cowering fled the sable heaps of ghosts,
And such a scream fill'd all the dismal coasts.
And now they reach'd the earth's remotest ends,
And now the gates where evening Sol descends,
And Leucas' rock, and ocean's utmost streams,
And now per de the dusky land of dreams,
And rest at lawhere souls unbodied dwell
In ever-flowering meads of Asphodel.
The empty forms of men inhabit there,
Impassive semblance, images of air!
Nought else are all that shin'd on earth before;
Ajax, and great Achilles, are no more!
Yet still a master-ghost, the rest he aw'd,
The rest ador'd him, towering as he trod;
Still at his side is Nestor's son survey'd,
And lov'd Patroclus still attends his shade.
New as they were to that infernal shore,
The suitors stopp'd, and gaz'd the hero o'er.
When, moving slow, the regal form they view'd
Of great Atrides: him in pomp pursu'd
And solemn sadness through the gloom of hell,
The train of those who by Egysthus fell.
O mighty chief! (Pelides thus began)
Honour'd by Jove above the lot of man!
King of a hundred kings! to whom resign'd
The strongest, bravest, greatest of mankind.
Com'st thou the first, to view this dreary state?
And was the noblest the first mark of fate?
Condemn'd to pay the great arrear so soon;
The lot, which all lament, and none can shun!
O! better hadst thou sunk in Trojan ground,
With all thy full-blown honours cover'd round!
Then grateful Greece with streaming eyes might
Historic marbles to record thy praise:
Thy praise eternal on the faithful stone
Had with transmissive glories grac'd thy son.
But heavier fates were destin'd to attend:
What man is happy, till he knows his end!
O son of Peleus! greater than mankind!
(Thus Agamemnon's kingly shade rejoin'd)
Thrice happy thou! to press the martial plain
Midst heaps of heroes in thy quarrel slain
In clouds of smoke, rais'd by the noble fray,
Great and terrific e'en in death you lay,
And deluges of blood flow'd round you every way.
Nor ceas'd the strife, till Jove himself oppos'd,
And all in tempests the dire evening clos'd.
Then to the fleet we bore thy honour'd load,
And decent on the funeral bed bestow'd.
Then unguents sweet and tepid streams we shed;
Tears flow'd from every eye, and o'er the dead
Each clipp'd the curling honours of his head.
Struck at the news, thy azure mother came;
The sea-green sisters waited on the dame:
A voice of loud lament through all the main
Was heard, and terror seiz'd the Grecian train:
Back to their ships the frighted host had fled;
But Nestor spoke, they listen'd, and obey'd.
(From old experience Nestor's counsel springs,
And long vicissitudes of human things.)
"Forbear your flight: fair Thetis from the main
"To mourn Achilles leads her azure train."
Around thee stand the daughters of the deep,
Robe thee in heavenly vests, and round thee weep:
Round thee the Muses with alternate strain,
In ever consecrating verse complain.
Each warlike Greek the moving music hears,
And iron-hearted heroes melt in tears.
Till seventeen nights and seventeen days return'd,
All that was mortal or immortal mourn'd.
To flames we gave thee, the succeeding day,
And fatted sheep and sable oxen slay;
With oils and honey blaze th' augmented fires,
And like a god adorn'd, thy earthly part expires.
Unnumber'd warriors round the burning pile
Urge the fleet courser's or the racer's toil!
Thick clouds of dust o'er all the circle rise,
And the mix'd clamour thunders in the skies.
Soon as absorpt in all-embracing flame
Sunk what was mortal of thy mighty name,
We then collect thy snowy bones, and place
With wines and unguents in a golden vase;
(The vase to Thetis Bacchus gave of old,
And Vulcan's art enrich'd the sculptur'd gold)
There we thy relics, great Achilles! blend
With dear Patroclus, thy departed friend:
In the same urn a separate space contains
Thy next belov'd, Antilochus' remains.
Now all the sons of warlike Greece surround
Thy destin'd tomb, and cast a mighty mound:
High on the shore the growing hill we raise,
That wide th' extended Hellespont surveys;
Where all, from age to age, who pass the coast,
May point Achilles' tomb, and hail the mighty
ghost.
Thetis herself to all our peers proclaims
Heroic prizes and exequial games;
The gods assented; and around thee lay
Rich spoils and gifts that blaz'd against the day.
Oft have I seen with solemn funeral games
Heroes and kings committed to the flames:
But strength of youth, or valour of the brave
With nobler contest, ne'er renown'd a grave.
Such were the games by azure Thetis given,
And such thy honours, O belov'd of heaven!
Dear to mankind thy fame survives, nor fades
Its bloom eternal in the Stygian shades.
But what to me avail my honours gone,
Successful toils, and battles bravely won?
Doom'd by stern Jove, at home to end my life,
By curs'd Egysthus, and a faithless wife!
Thus they; while Hermes o'er the dreary plain,
Led the sad numbers by Ulysses slain.
On each majestic form they cast a view,
And timorous pass'd, and awfully withdrew.
But Agamemnon, through the gloomy shade,"
His ancient host Amphimedon survey'd:
Son of Melanthius! (he began) O say!
What cause compell'd so many, and so gay,
To tread the downward, melancholy way?
Say, could one city yield a troop so fair?
Were all these partners of one native air?
Or did the rage of stormy Neptune sweep
Your lives at once, and whelm beneath the deep?
Did nightly thieves, or pirates' cruel bands,
Drench with your blood your pillag'd country's
sands?
Or well-defending some beleaguer❜d wall,
Say, for the public did ye greatly fall?
Inform thy guest; for such I was of yore
When our triumphant navies touch'd your shore;
Forc'd a long month the wintry seas to bear,
To move the great Ulysses to the war.
O king of men! I faithful shall relate
(Reply'd Amphimedon) our hapless fate.
Ulysses absent, our ambitious aim
With rival loves pursu'd his royal dame:
Her coy reserve, and prudence mix'd with pride,
Our common suit nor granted, nor denied:
But close with inward hate our death design'd;
Vers'd in all arts of wily womankind.
Her hand, laborious, in delusion, spread
A spacious loom, and mix'd the various thread:
Ye peers (she cried) who press to gain my heart
Where dead Ulysses claims no more a part,
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