But pasture green to goats and beeves affords,
Trees of all kinds, and fountains never dry.
Ithaca therefore, stranger, is a name
Known ev’n at Troy, a city, by report,
At no small distance from Achaia’s shore.
Ulysses, happy in his native land,
(So taught by Pallas, progeny of Jove)
In accents wing’d her answ’ring, utter’d prompt
Not truth, but figments to truth opposite,
For guile, in him, stood never at a pause.
I heard of Ithaca, where now, it seems,
I have, myself, with these my stores arrived;
Not richer stores than, flying thence, I left
To my own children; for from Crete I fled
For slaughter of Orsilochus the swift,
Son of Idomeneus, whom none in speed
Could equal throughout all that spacious isle.
His purpose was to plunder me of all
My Trojan spoils, which to obtain, much woe
I had in battle and by storms endured,
For that I would not gratify his Sire,
Fighting beside him in the fields of Troy,
But led a diff’rent band. Him from the field
Returning homeward, with my brazen spear
I smote, in ambush waiting his return
At the road-side, with a confed’rate friend.
Unwonted darkness over all the heav’ns
That night prevailed, nor any eye of man
Observed us, but, unseen, I slew the youth.
No sooner, then, with my sharp spear of life
I had bereft him, than I sought a ship
Mann’d by renown’d Pæacians, whom with gifts
Part of my spoils, and by requests, I won.
I bade them land me on the Pylian shore,
Or in fair Elis by th’ Epeans ruled,
But they, reluctant, were by violent winds
Driv’n devious thence, for fraud they purposed none.
Thus through constraint we here arrived by night,
And with much difficulty push’d the ship
Into safe harbour, nor was mention made
Of food by any, though all needed food,
But, disembark’d in haste, on shore we lay.
I, weary, slept profound, and they my goods
Forth heaving from the bark, beside me placed
The treasures on the sea-beach where I slept,
Then, reimbarking, to the populous coast
Steer’d of Sidonia, and me left forlorn.
And stroaked his cheek, in form a woman now,
Beauteous, majestic, in all elegant arts
Accomplish’d, and with accents wing’d replied.
And in imposture various, need shall find
Of all his policy, although a God.
Canst thou not cease, inventive as thou art
And subtle, from the wiles which thou hast lov’d
Since thou wast infant, and from tricks of speech
Delusive, even in thy native land?
But come, dismiss we these ingenious shifts
From our discourse, in which we both excel;
For thou of all men in expedients most
Abound’st and eloquence, and I, throughout
All heav’n have praise for wisdom and for art.
And know’st thou not thine Athenæan aid,
Pallas, Jove’s daughter, who in all thy toils
Assist thee and defend? I gave thee pow’r
T’ engage the hearts of all Phæacia’s sons,
And here arrive ev’n now, counsels to frame
Discrete with thee, and to conceal the stores
Giv’n to thee by the rich Phæacian Chiefs
On my suggestion, at thy going thence.
I will inform thee also what distress
And hardship under thy own palace-roof
Thou must endure; which, since constraint enjoins,
Bear patiently, and neither man apprize
Nor woman that thou hast arrived forlorn
And vagabond, but silent undergo
What wrongs soever from the hands of men.
O Goddess! thou art able to elude,
Wherever met, the keenest eye of man,
For thou all shapes assum’st; yet this I know
Certainly, that I ever found thee kind,
Long as Achaia’s Heroes fought at Troy;
But when (the lofty tow’rs of Priam laid
In dust) we re-embark’d, and by the will
Of heav’n Achaia’s fleet was scatter’d wide,
Thenceforth, O daughter wise of Jove, I thee
Saw not, nor thy appearance in my ship
Once mark’d, to rid me of my num’rous woes,
But always bearing in my breast a heart
With anguish riv’n, I roam’d, till by the Gods
Relieved at length, and till with gracious words
Thyself didst in Phæacia’s opulent land
Confirm my courage, and becam’st my guide.
But I adjure thee in thy father’s name—
O tell me truly, (for I cannot hope
That I have reach’d fair Ithaca; I tread
Some other soil, and thou affirm’st it mine
To mock me merely, and deceive) oh say—
Am I in Ithaca? in truth, at home?
Such caution in thy breast always prevails
Distrustful; but I know thee eloquent,
With wisdom and with ready thought endued,
And cannot leave thee, therefore, thus distress’d.
For what man, save Ulysses, new-return’d
After long wand’rings, would not pant to see
At once his home, his
| Previous chapter/page | Back | Home | Email this | Search | Discuss | Bookmark | Next chapter/page |