Whom soon the swine-herd follow’d, driving three
His fattest brawns; them in the spacious court
He feeding left, and to Ulysses’ side
Approaching, courteously bespake the Chief.
At length, or still disdainful as before?
Yes—and I would that vengeance from the Gods
Might pay their insolence, who in a house
Not theirs, dominion exercise, and plan
Unseemly projects, shameless as they are!
The goat-herd, driving, with the aid of two
His fellow-swains, the fattest of his goats
To feast the suitors. In the sounding porch
The goats he tied, then, drawing near, in terms
Reproachful thus assail’d Ulysses’ ear.
To vex the suitors? wilt thou not depart?
Scarce shall we settle this dispute, I judge,
Till we have tasted each the other’s fist;
Thou art unreasonable thus to beg
Here always—have the Greeks no feasts beside?
Return’d, but shook his brows, and, silent, framed
Terrible purposes. Then, third, approach’d
Chief o’er the herds, Philœtius; fatted goats
He for the suitors brought, with which he drove
An heifer; (ferry-men had pass’d them o’er,
Carriers of all who on their coast arrive)
He tied them in the sounding porch, then stood
Beside the swine-herd, to whom thus he said.
So lately? from what nation hath he come?
What parentage and country boasts the man?
I pity him, whose figure seems to speak
Royalty in him. Heav’n will surely plunge
The race of common wand’rers deep in woe,
If thus it destine even Kings to mourn.
Welcom’d Ulysses, whom he thus bespake.
Prosp’rous at least hereafter, who art held
At present in the bonds of num’rous ills.
Thou, Jupiter, of all the Gods, art most
Severe, and spar’st not to inflict distress
Even on creatures from thyself derived.
I had no sooner mark’d thee, than my eyes
Swam, and the sweat gush’d from me at the thought
Of dear Ulysses; for if yet he live
And see the sun, such tatters, I suppose,
He wears, a wand’rer among human-kind.
But if already with the dead he dwell
In Pluto’s drear abode, oh then, alas
For kind Ulysses! who consign’d to me,
While yet a boy, his Cephalenian herds,
And they have now encreas’d to such a store
Innumerable of broad-fronted beeves,
As only care like mine could have produced.
These, by command of others, I transport
For their regale, who neither heed his son,
Nor tremble at the anger of the Gods,
But long have wish’d ardently to divide
And share the substance of our absent Lord.
Me, therefore, this thought occupies, and haunts
My mind not seldom; while the heir survives
It were no small offence to drive his herds
Afar, and migrate to a foreign land;
Yet here to dwell, suff’ring oppressive wrongs
While I attend another’s beeves, appears
Still less supportable; and I had fled,
And I had served some other mighty Chief
Long since, (for patience fails me to endure
My present lot) but that I cherish still
Some hope of my ill-fated Lord’s return,
To rid his palace of those lawless guests.
Herdsman! since neither void of sense thou seem’st,
Nor yet dishonest, but myself am sure
That thou art owner of a mind discrete,
Hear therefore, for I swear! bold I attest
Jove and this hospitable board, and these
The Lares of the noble Chief, whose hearth
Protects me now, that, ere thy going hence,
Ulysses surely shall have reach’d his home,
And thou shalt see him, if thou wilt, thyself,
Slaying the suitors who now lord it here.
Oh stranger! would but the Saturnian King
Perform that word, thou should’st be taught (thyself
Eye-witness of it) what an arm is mine.
Entreated, that Ulysses might possess
His home again. Thus mutual they conferr’d.
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