Poetry | William Cowper | The Odyssey of Homer | Book 17

The Odyssey of Homer — Book 17 (Part 7 of 8)

they, for whose reproof he little cared.
But in his heart Telemachus that blow
Resented, anguish-torn, yet not a tear
He shed, but silent shook his brows, and mused
Terrible things. Penelope, meantime,
Told of the wand’rer so abused beneath
Her roof, among her maidens thus exclaim’d.    So may Apollo, glorious archer, smite
Thee also. Then Eurynome replied,    Oh might our pray’rs prevail, none of them all
Should see bright-charioted Aurora more.    Her answer’d then Penelope discrete.
Nurse! they are odious all, for that alike
All teem with mischief; but Antinoüs’ looks
Remind me ever of the gloom of death.
A stranger hath arrived who, begging, roams
The house, (for so his penury enjoins)
The rest have giv’n him, and have fill’d his bag
With viands, but Antinoüs hath bruised
His shoulder with a foot-stool hurl’d at him.    While thus the Queen conversing with her train
In her own chamber sat, Ulysses made
Plenteous repast. Then, calling to her side
Eumæus, thus she signified her will.    Eumæus, noble friend! bid now approach
Yon stranger. I would speak with him, and ask
If he has seen Ulysses, or have heard
Tidings, perchance, of the afflicted Chief,
For much a wand’rer by his garb he seems.    To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
Were those Achaians silent, thou shouldst hear,
O Queen! a tale that would console thy heart.    Eustathius, and Clarke after him, understand an aposiopesis here, as if the speaker meant to say—what if there should be? or—suppose there should be? But the sentence seems to fall in better with what follows interpreted as above, and it is a sense of the passage not unwarranted by the opinion of other commentators. See Schaufelbergerus.
Three nights I housed him, and within my cot
Three days detain’d him, (for his ship he left
A fugitive, and came direct to me)
But half untold his hist’ry still remains.
As when his eye one fixes on a bard
From heav’n instructed in such themes as charm
The ear of mortals, ever as he sings
The people press, insatiable, to hear,
So, in my cottage, seated at my side,
That stranger with his tale enchanted me.
Laertes, he affirms, hath been his guest
Erewhile in Crete, where Minos’ race resides,
And thence he hath arrived, after great loss,
A suppliant to the very earth abased;
He adds, that in Thesprotia’s neighbour realm
He of Ulysses heard, both that he lives,
And that he comes laden with riches home.    To whom Penelope, discrete, replied.
Haste; call him. I would hear, myself, his tale.
Meantime, let these, or in the palace gate
Sport jocular, or here; their hearts are light,
For their possessions are secure; their wine
None drinks, or eats their viands, save their own,
While my abode, day after day, themselves
Haunting, my beeves and sheep and fatted goats
Slay for the banquet, and my casks exhaust
Extravagant, whence endless waste ensues;
For no such friend as was Ulysses once
Have I to expel the mischief. But might he
Revisit once his native shores again,
Then, aided by his son, he should avenge,
Incontinent, the wrongs which now I mourn.    Then sneezed Telemachus with sudden force,
That all the palace rang; his mother laugh’d,
And in wing’d accents thus the swain bespake.    Haste—bid him hither—hear’st thou not the sneeze
Propitious of my son? oh might it prove
A presage of inevitable death
To all these revellers! may none escape!
Now mark me well. Should the event his tale
Confirm, at my own hands he shall receive
Mantle and tunic both for his reward.    She spake; he went, and where Ulysses sat
Arriving, in wing’d accents thus began.    Penelope, my venerable friend!
Calls thee, the mother of Telemachus.
Oppress’d by num’rous troubles, she desires
To ask thee tidings of her absent Lord.
And should the event verify thy report,
Thy meed shall

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