Of such bold boasting unadvised; lest one
O’erhearing you, report your words within.
No—rather thus, in silence, let us move
To an exploit so pleasant to us all.
With whom he sought the galley on the shore,
Which drawing down into the deep, they placed
The mast and sails on board, and, sitting, next,
Each oar in order to its proper groove,
Unfurl’d and spread their canvas to the gale.
Their bold attendants, then, brought them their arms,
And soon as in deep water they had moor’d
The ship, themselves embarking, supp’d on board,
And watch’d impatient for the dusk of eve.
Remounting, had her upper chamber reach’d,
There, unrefresh’d with either food or wine,
She lay’d her down, her noble son the theme
Of all her thoughts, whether he should escape
His haughty foes, or perish by their hands.
Num’rous as are the lion’s thoughts, who sees,
Not without fear, a multitude with toils
Encircling him around, such num’rous thoughts
Her bosom occupied, till sleep at length
Invading her, she sank in soft repose.
Set forth an airy phantom in the form
Of fair Iphthima, daughter of the brave
Icarius, and Eumelus’ wedded wife
In Pheræ. Shaped like her the dream she sent
Into the mansion of the godlike Chief
Ulysses, with kind purpose to abate
The sighs and tears of sad Penelope.
Ent’ring the chamber-portal, where the bolt
Secured it, at her head the image stood,
And thus, in terms compassionate, began.
Happy in everlasting rest themselves,
Forbid thy sorrows. Thou shalt yet behold
Thy son again, who hath by no offence
Incurr’d at any time the wrath of heav’n.
By which dreams pass, Penelope replied.
Unfrequent here, for that thou dwell’st remote?
And thou enjoin’st me a cessation too
From sorrows num’rous, and which, fretting, wear
My heart continual; first, my spouse I lost
With courage lion-like endow’d, a prince
All-excellent, whose never-dying praise
Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused;
And now my only son, new to the toils
And hazards of the sea, nor less untaught
The arts of traffic, in a ship is gone
Far hence, for whose dear cause I sorrow more
Than for his Sire himself, and even shake
With terror, lest he perish by their hands
To whom he goes, or in the stormy Deep;
For num’rous are his foes, and all intent
To slay him, ere he reach his home again.
Take courage; suffer not excessive dread
To overwhelm thee, such a guide he hath
And guardian, one whom many wish their friend,
And ever at their side, knowing her pow’r,
Minerva; she compassionates thy griefs,
And I am here her harbinger, who speak
As thou hast heard by her own kind command.
Oh! if thou art a goddess, and hast heard
A Goddess’ voice, rehearse to me the lot
Of that unhappy one, if yet he live
Spectator of the cheerful beams of day,
Or if, already dead, he dwell below.
I will not now inform thee if thy Lord
Live, or live not. Vain words are best unspoken.
She made, and melted into air. Upsprang
From sleep Icarius’ daughter, and her heart
Felt heal’d within her, by that dream distinct
Visited in the noiseless night serene.
To instant death devoting in their hearts
Telemachus. There is a rocky isle
In the mid sea, Samos the rude between
And Ithaca, not large, named Asteris.
It hath commodious havens, into which
A passage clear opens on either side,
And there the ambush’d Greeks his coming watch’d.
| Previous chapter/page | Back | Home | Email this | Search | Discuss | Bookmark | Next chapter |