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Tax not, (the heaven-illumin'd seer rejoin'd) Of rage, or folly, my prophetic mind. No clouds of error dim th' etherial rays, Her equal power each faithful sense obeys. Unguided hence my trembling steps I bend, Far hence, before yon hovering deaths descend; Lest the ripe harvest of revenge begun, I share the doom ye suitors can not shun. This said, to sage Piræus sped the seer, His honoured host, a welcome inmate there. O'er the protracted feast the suitors sit, And aim to wound the prince with pointless wit: Cries one, with scornful leer and mimic voice, Thy charity we praise, but not thy choice; Why such profusion of indulgence shown To this poor, timorous, toil-detesting drone? That other feeds on planetary schemes, And pays his host with hideous noon-day dreams. But, prince! for once at least believe a friend, To some Sicilian mart these courtiers send, Where, if they yield their freight across the main, Dear sell the slaves! demand no greater gain.

Thus jovial they; but nought the prince replies;
Full on his sire he roll'd his ardent eyes;
Impatient straight to flesh his virgin-sword;
From the wise chief he waits the deathful word.
Nigh in her bright alcove, the pensive queen
To see the circle sat, of all unseen.

Sated at length they rise, and bid prepare
An eve-repast, with equal cost and care;
But vengeful Pallas, with preventing speed,
A feast proportion'd to their crimes decreed;
A feast of death! the feasters doom'd to bleed!

THE

ODYSSEY.

BOOK XXI.

THE ARGUMENT.

THE BENDING OF ULYSSES'S BOW.

Penelope, to put an end to the solicitation of the suitors, proposes to marry the person who shall first bend the bow of Ulysses, and shoot through the ringlets. After their attempts have proved ineffectual, Ulysses taking Eumæus and Philatius apart, discovers himself to them; then returning, desires leave to try his strength at the bow, which, though refused with indignation by the suitors, Penelope and Telemachus cause to be delivered to his hands. He bends it immediately, and shoots through all the rings. Jupiter in the same instant thunders from heaven; Ulysses accepts the omen, and gives a sign to Telemachus, who stands ready armed at his side.

AND Pallas now, to raise the rivals' fires,
With her own heart Penelope inspires:
Who now can bend Ulysses' bow, and wing
The well-aim'd arrow through the distant ring,
Shall end the strife, and win th' imperial dame;
But discord and black death await the game!

The prudent queen the lofty stair ascends,
At distance due a virgin-train attends;
A brazen key she held, the handle turn'd,
With steel and polish'd elephant adorn'd.

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Swift to the inmost room she bent her way,
Where safe repos'd the royal treasures lay;
There shone high-heap'd the labour'd brass and

ore,

And there the bow which great Ulysses bore,
And there the quiver, where now guiltless slept
Those winged deaths that many a matron wept.
This gift, long since when Sparta's shores he
trod,

On young Ulysses Iphitus bestow'd:

Beneath Orsilochus's roof they met;

One loss was private, one a public debt:
Messena's state from Ithaca detains

Three hundred sheep, and all the shepherd swains;
And to the youthful prince to urge the laws,
The king and elders trust their common cause.
But Iphitus, employ'd on other cares,

Search'd the wide country for his wandering mares,
And mules, the strongest of the labouring kind;
Hapless to search! more hapless still to find!
For journeying on to Hercules, at length
That lawless wretch, that man of brutal strength,
Deaf to heaven's voice, the social rite transgress'd,
And for the beauteous mares destroy'd his guest;
He gave the bow; and on Ulysses' part
Receiv'd a pointed sword and missile dart:
Of luckless friendship on a foreign shore
Their first, last pledges! for they met no more.
The bow, bequeath'd by this unhappy hand,
Ulysses bore not from his native land;
Nor in the front of battle taught to bend,
But kept, in dear memorial of his friend.
Now gently winding up the fair ascent,
By many an easy step the matron went;
Then o'er the pavement glides with grace divine,
(With polish'd oak the level pavements shine)

The folding gates a dazzling light display'd,
With pomp of various architrave o'erlay'd.
The bolt, obedient to the silken string,
Forsakes the staple as she pulls the ring:
The wards respondent to the key turn round;
The bars fall back; the flying valves resound;
Loud as a bull makes hill and valley ring,
So roar'd the lock when it releas'd the spring.
She moves majestic through the wealthy room,
Where treasur'd garments cast a rich perfume;
There from the column where aloft it hung,
Reach'd in its splendid case, the bow unstrung:
Across her knees she laid the well-known bow,
And pensive sat, and tears began to flow.
To full satiety of grief she mourns,
Then silent, to the joyous hall returns,
To the proud suitors bears in pensive state
Th' unbended bow, and arrows wing'd with fate.
Behind, her train the polish'd coffer brings,
Which held th' alternate brass and silver rings.
Full in the portal the chaste queen appears,
And with her veil conceals the coming tears:
On either side awaits a virgin fair;

While thus the matron, with majestic air:

Say you, whom these forbidden walls enclose,
For whom my victims bleed, my vintage flows;
If these neglected, faded charms can move?
Or is it but a vain pretence, you love?

If I the prize, if me you seek to wife,
Hear the conditions, and commence the strife.
Who first Ulysses' wondrous bow shall bend,
And through twelve ringlets the fleet arrow send,
Him will I follow, and forsake my home,
For him forsake this lov'd, this wealthy dome,
Long, long the scene of all my past delight,
And still to last, the vision of my night!

Graceful she said, and bade Eumæus show
The rival peers the ringlets and the bow.
From his full eyes the tears unbidden spring,
Touch'd at the dear memorials of his king.
Philatius too relents, but secret shed
The tender drops. Antinous saw, and said:
Hence to your fields, ye rustics! hence away,
Nor stain with grief the pleasures of the day;
Nor to the royal heart recall in vain

The sad remembrance of a perish'd man.
Enough her precious tears already flow-
Or share the feast with due respect, or go
To weep abroad, and leave to us the bow:
No vulgar task! Ill suits this courtly crew
That stubborn horn which brave Ulysses drew.
I well remember (for I gaz'd him o'er
While yet a child) what majesty he bore!
And still (all infant as I was) retain

The port, the strength, the grandeur of the man.
He said, but in his soul fond joys arise,
And his proud hopes already win the prize.
To speed the flying shaft through every ring,
Wretch! is not thine: the arrows of the king
Shall end those hopes, and fate is on the wing!
Then thus Telemachus. Some god I find
With pleasing frenzy has possess'd my mind;
When a lov'd mother threatens to depart,
Why with this ill-tim'd gladness leaps my heart?
Come then, ye suitors! and dispute a prize
Richer than all th' Achaian state supplies,
Than all proud Argos, or Mycæna knows,
Than all our isles or continents enclose:
A woman matchless, and almost divine,
Fit for the praise of every tongue but mine.
No more excuses then, no more delay:
Haste to the trial-Lo! I lead the way.

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