Then to Peiræus- -Thou whom time has prov'd
A faithful servant, by thy prince belov'd!
'Till we returning shall our guest demand,
Accept this charge with honour, at our hand.
To this Peiræus; joyful I obey,

Well pleas'd the hospitable rites to pay.
The presence of thy guest shall best reward
(If long thy stay) the absence of my lord.
With that, their anchors he commands to weigh,
Mount the tall bark and launch into the sea.
All with obedient haste forsake the shores,
And plac'd in order, spread their equal oars.
Then from the deck the prince his sandals takes;
Pois'd in his hand the pointed javelin shakes;
They part; while lessening from the hero's view,
Swift to the town the well-row'd galley flew:
The hero trod the margin of the main,

And reach'd the mansion of his faithful swain.

THE

ODYSSEY.

BOOK XVI.

THE ARGUMENT.

THE DISCOVERY OF ULYSSES TO TELEMACHUS.

Telemachus arriving at the lodge of Eumæus, sends him to carry Penelope the news of his return. Minerva appearing to Ulysses, commands him to discover himself to his son. The princes, who had lain in ambush to intercept Telemachus in his way, their project being defeated, return to Ithaca.

Soon as the morning blush'd along the plains, Ulysses and the monarch of the swains Awake the sleeping fires, their meal prepare, And forth to pasture send the bristly care. The prince's near approach the dogs descry, And fawning round his feet confess their joy. Their gentle blandishment the king survey'd, Heard his resounding step, and instant said: Some well-known friend (Eumæus) bends this way;

His steps I hear; the dogs familiar play.

While yet he spoke, the prince advancing drew Nigh to the lodge, and now appear'd in view. Transported from his seat Eumæus sprung, Dropp'd the full bowl, and round his bosom hung; Kissing his cheek, his hand, while from his eye The tears rain'd copious in a shower of joy.

As some fond sire who ten long winters grieves,
From foreign climes an only son receives,
(Child of his age) with strong paternal joy
Forward he springs and clasps the favourite boy:
So round the youth his arms Eumæus spread,
As if the grave had given him from the dead.
And is it thou? my ever dear delight!
O art thou come to bless my longing sight?
Never, I never hop'd to view this day,
When o'er the waves you plough'd the desperate

way.

Enter, my child! beyond my hopes restor❜d,

O give these eyes to feast upon their lord.
Enter, oh seldom seen! for lawless powers
Too much detain thee from these sylvan bowers.
The prince replied: Eumæus I obey;
To seek thee, friend, I hither took my way.
But say, if in the court the queen reside
Severely chaste, or if commenc'd a bride?

Thus he: and thus the monarch of the swains; Severely chaste Penelope remains,

But lost to every joy, she wastes the day
In tedious cares, and weeps the night away.
He ended, and (receiving as they pass

The javelin, pointed with a star of brass)
They reach'd the dome; the dome with marble
shin'd,

His seat Ulysses to the prince resign'd.

Not so (exclaims the prince with decent grace) For me, this house shall find an humbler place: usurp the honours due to silver hairs

And reverend strangers, modest youth forbears.
Instant the swain the spoils of beasts supplies,
And bids the rural throne with osiers rise.

There sat the prince: the feast Eumæus spread,
And heap'd the shining canisters with bread.

Thick o'er the board the plenteous viands lay,
The frugal remnants of the former day.
Then in a bowl he tempers generous wines,
Around whose verge a mimic ivy twines.
And now, the rage of thirst and hunger fled,
Thus young Ulysses to Eumæus said.

Whence, father, from what shore this stranger, say?

What vessel bore him o'er the watery way?
To human step our land impervious lies,
And round the coast circumfluent oceans rise.
The swain returns. A tale of sorrows hear;
In spacious Crete he drew his natal air:

Long doom'd to wander o'er the land and main,
For heaven has wove his thread of life with pain.
Half-breathless 'scaping to the land he flew
From Thesprot mariners, a murderous crew.
To thee my son the suppliant I resign,
I gave him my protection, grant him thine.
Hard task, he cries, thy virtue gives thy friend,
Willing to aid, unable to defend.

Can strangers safely in the court reside,
Midst the swill'd insolence of lust and pride?
E'en I unsafe: the queen in doubt to wed,
Or pay due honours to the nuptial bed!
Perhaps she weds regardless of her fame,
Deaf to the mighty Ulyssæan name.
However, stranger! from our grace receive
Such honours as befit a prince to give;
Sandals, a sword, and robes, respect to prove,
And safe to sail with ornaments of love.
Till then, thy guest amid the rural train
Far from the court, from danger far, detain.
'Tis mine with food the hungry to supply,
And clothe the naked from th' inclement sky.
Here dwell in safety from the suitors' wrongs,
And the rude insults of ungovern'd tongues.

For should'st thou suffer, powerless to relieve
I must behold it, and can only grieve.
The brave encompass'd by an hostile train,
O'erpower'd by numbers, is but brave in vain.
To whom, while anger in his bosom glows,
With warmth replies the man of mighty woes.
Since audience mild is deign'd, permit my tongue
At once to pity and resent thy wrong.

My heart weeps blood, to see a soul so brave
Live to base insolence of power a slave.

But tell me, dost thou, prince, dost thou behold,
And hear their midnight revels uncontroll❜d?
Say, do thy subjects in bold faction rise,
Or priests in fabled oracles advise?

Or are thy brothers, who should aid thy power,
Turn'd mean deserters in the needful hour?
O that I were from great Ulysses sprung,

Or that these wither'd nerves like thine were strung;

Or, heavens! might he return! (and soon appear
He shall, I trust; a hero scorns despair).
Might he return, I yield my life a prey
To my worst foe, if that avenging day
Be not their last: but should I lose my life
Oppress'd by numbers in the glorious strife,
I choose the nobler part, and yield my breath,
Rather than bear dishonour, worse than death;
Than see the hand of violence invade

The reverend stranger, and the spotless maid;
Than see the wealth of kings consum'd in waste,
The drunkards revel, and the gluttons feast.

Thus he, with anger flashing from his eye;
Sincere the youthful hero made reply:
Nor leagu'd in factious arms my subjects rise,
Nor priests in fabled oracles advise:

Nor are my brothers, who should aid my power,
Turn'd mean deserters in the needful hour.