The First Book of the Odyssey

The Man, for Wisdom's various arts renown'd, Long exercis'd in woes, oh Muse! resound. Who, when his arms had wrought the destin'd fall Of sacred Troy, and raz'd her heav'n-built wall, Wand'ring from clime to clime, observant stray'd, Their Manners noted, and their States survey'd. On stormy seas unnumber'd toils he bore, Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore: Vain toils! their impious folly dar'd to prey On Herds devoted to the God of Day; The God vindictive doom'd them never more (Ah men unbless'd!) to touch that natal shore. Oh snatch some portion of these acts from fate, Celestial Muse! and to our world relate.

Now at their native realms the Greeks arriv'd; All who the Wars of ten long years surviv'd, And 'scap'd the perils of the gulfy Main. Ulysses, sole of all the victor train, An exile from his dear paternal coast, Deplor'd his absent Queen, and Empire lost. Calypso in her caves constrain'd his stay, With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay: In vain—for now the circling years disclose The day predestin'd to reward his woes. At length his Ithaca is giv'n by Fate, Where yet new labours his arrival wait; At length their rage the hostile Pow'rs restrain, All but the ruthless Monarch of the Main. But now the God, remote, a heav'nly guest In Aethiopia grac'd the genial feast, (A race divided, whom with sloping rays The rising and descending Sun surveys) There on the world's extreamest verge rever'd, With Hecatombs and pray'r in pomp prefer'd, Distant he lay: while in the bright abodes Of high Olympus, Jove conven'd the Gods: Th'assembly thus the Sire supreme addrest; Aegysthus' fate revolving in his breast, Whom young Orestes to the dreary coast Of Pluto sent, a blood-polluted Ghost.

Perverse Mankind! whose Wills, created free, Charge all their woes on absolute Decree; All to the dooming Gods their guilt translate, And Follies are miscall'd the crimes of Fate. When to his lust Aegysthus gave the rein, Did Fate, or we, th'adult'rous act constrain? Did Fate, or we, when great Atrides dy'd, Urge the bold traitor to the Regicide? Hermes I sent, while yet his soul remain'd Sincere from royal blood, and faith profan'd; To warn the wretch, that young Orestes grown To manly years shou'd re-assert the throne. Yet impotent of mind, and uncontrol'd, He plung'd into the gulf which Heav'n foretold.

Here paus'd the God, and pensive thus replies Minerva graceful with her azure eyes. O thou! from whom the whole creation springs, The source of pow'r on earth deriv'd to Kings! His death was equal to the direful deed; So may the Man of blood be doom'd to bleed! But grief and rage alternate wound my breast For brave Ulysses, still by fate opprest. Amid'st an Isle, around whose rocky shore The forests murmur, and the surges roar, The blameless heroe from his wish'd-for home A Goddess guards in her enchanted dome. (Atlas her sire, to whose far-piercing eye The wonders of the Deep expanded lye; Th'eternal columns which on earth he rears End in the starry vault, and prop the sphears.) By his fair daughter is the chief confin'd, Who sooths to dear delight his anxious mind: Successless all her soft caresses prove, To banish from his breast his Country's love; To see the smoke from his lov'd palace rise, While the dear isle in distant prospect lyes, With what contentment could he close his eyes? And will Omnipotence neglect to save The suffering virtue of the wise and brave? Must he, whose altars on the Phrygian shore With frequent rites, and pure, avow'd thy pow'r, Be doom'd the worst of human ills to prove, Unbless'd, abandon'd to the wrath of Jove?

Daughter! what words have pass'd thy lips unweigh'd? (Reply'd the Thund'rer to the Martial Maid) Deem not unjustly by my doom opprest Of humane race the wisest, and the best. Neptune, by pray'r repentant rarely won, Afflicts the chief, t'avenge his Giant son Whose visual orb Ulysses robb'd of light; Great Polypheme, of more than mortal might! Him young Thoôsa bore, (the bright increase Of Phorcys, dreaded in the founds and seas:) Whom Neptune ey'd with bloom of beauty blest, And in his cave the yielding nymph comprest. For this, the god constrains the Greek to roam, A hopeless exile from his native home, From death alone exempt—but cease to mourn; Let all combine t'atchieve his wish'd return: Neptune aton'd, his wrath shall now refrain, Or thwart the synod of the gods in vain.

Father and King ador'd! Minerva cry'd, Since all who in th' Olympian bow'r reside Now make the wand'ring Greek their public care, Let Hermes to th' Atlantic isle repair; Bid him, arriv'd in bright Calypso's court, The Sanction of th' assembled pow'rs report: That wise Ulysses to his native land Must speed, obedient to their high command. Mean time Telemachus, the blooming heir Of sea-girt Ithaca, demands my care: 'Tis mine, to form his green, unpractis'd years, In sage debates, surrounded with his Peers, To save the state; and timely to restrain The bold intrusion of the Suitor-train; Who crowd his palace, and with lawless pow'r His herds and flocks in feastful rites devour. To distant Sparta and the spacious waste Of sandy Pyle, the royal Youth shall haste. There, warm with filial love, the cause enquire That from his realm retards his god-like Sire: Deliv'ring early to the voice of Fame The promise of a great, immortal name.

She said: the sandals of caelestial mold Fledg'd with Ambrosial plumes, and rich with gold, Surround her feet; with these sublime she sails Th' aerial space, and mounts the winged gales: O'er earth and ocean wide prepar'd to soar, Her dreaded arm a beamy jav'lin bore, Pond'rous and vast; which when her fury burns Proud Tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns. From high Olympus prone her flight she bends, And in the realm of Ithaca descends. Her lineaments divine the grave disguise Of Mentes' form conceal'd from human eyes: (Mentes, the Monarch of the Taphian land) A glitt'ring spear wav'd awful in her hand. There in the portal plac'd, the heav'n-born maid Enormous riot and mis-rule survey'd. On hides of Beeves, before the palace gate, (Sad spoils of luxury) the Suitors sate. With rival art, and ardor in their mien, At Chess they vie, to captivate the Queen, Divining of their loves. Attending nigh, A menial train the flowing bowl supply: Others apart, the spacious hall prepare, And form the costly feast with busy care. There young Telemachus, his bloomy face Glowing caelestial-sweet with godlike grace, Amid the Circle shines: but hope and fear (Painful vicissitude!) his bosom tear. Now, imag'd in his mind, he sees restor'd In peace and joy, the people's rightful Lord; The proud Oppressors fly the vengeful sword. While his fond soul these fancied triumphs swell'd, The stranger Guest the royal Youth beheld. Griev'd that a Visitant so long shou'd wait Unmark'd, unhonour'd, at a Monarch's gate; Instant he flew with hospitable haste, And the new friend with courteous air embrac'd. Stranger! whoe'er thou art, securely rest Affianc'd in my faith, a friendly guest: Approach the dome, the social banquet share, And then the purpose of thy soul declare.

Thus affable and mild, the Prince precedes, And to the dome th' unknown Caelestial leads. The spear receiving from her hand, he plac'd Against a column, fair with sculpture grac'd; Where seemly rang'd in peaceful order stood Ulysses' Arms, now long disus'd to blood. He led the Goddess to the sovereign seat, Her feet supported with a stool of state; (A purple carpet spread the pavement wide) Then drew his seat, familiar, to her side: Far from the Suitor-train, a brutal crowd, With insolence, and wine, elate and loud; Where the free guest, unnoted, might relate If haply conscious, of his Father's fate. The golden ew'r a maid obsequious brings, Replenish'd from the cool, translucent springs; With copious water the bright vase supplies A silver Laver, of capacious size: They wash. The tables in fair order spread, They heap the glitt'ring Canisters with bread: Viands of various kinds allure the taste, Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast! Delicious wines th' attending herald brought; The gold gave lustre to the purple draught. Lur'd with the vapour of the fragrant feast, In rush'd the Suitors with voracious haste: Marshal'd in order due, to each a Sew'r Presents, to bathe his hands, a radiant ew'r. Luxurious then they feast. Observant round Gay, stripling youths the brimming goblets crown'd. The rage of hunger quell'd, they all advance, And form to measur'd airs the mazy dance: To Phemius was consign'd the chorded Lyre, Whose hand reluctant touch'd the warbling wire: Phemius, whose voice divine cou'd sweetest sing High strains, responsive to the vocal string.

Mean while, in whispers to his heav'nly guest His indignation thus the Prince exprest.

Indulge my rising grief, whilst these (my friend) With song and dance the pompous revel end. Light is the dance, and doubly sweet the lays, When, for the dear delight, another pays. His treasur'd stores these Cormorants consume, Whose bones, defrauded of a regal tomb And common turf, lie naked on the plain, Or doom'd to welter in the whelming main. Shou'd he return, that troop so blithe and bold, With purple robes inwrought, and stiff with gold, Precipitant in fear, wou'd wing their flight, And curse their cumbrous pride's unwieldy weight. But ah I dream!—th' appointed hour is fled, And Hope, too long with vain delusion fed, Deaf to the rumour of fallacious fame, Gives to the roll of death his glorious name! With venial freedom let me now demand Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land: Sincere, from whence began thy course, recite, And to what ship I owe the friendly freight? Now first to me this visit dost thou daign, Or number'd in my Father's social train? All who deserv'd his choice, he made his own, And curious much to know, he far was known.

My birth I boast (the blue-ey'd Virgin cries) From great Anchialus, renown'd and wise: Mentes my name; I rule the Taphian race, Whose bounds the deep circumfluent waves embrace. A duteous people, and industrious Isle, To naval arts inur'd, and stormy toil. Freighted with Iron from my native land, I steer my voyage to the Brutian strand; To gain by commerce, for the labour'd mass, A just proportion of refulgent Brass. Far from your Capital my ship resides At Reithrus, and secure at anchor rides; Where waving groves on airy Neion grow, Supremely tall, and shade the deeps below. Thence to re-visit your imperial dome, An old hereditary Guest I come: Your Father's friend. Laertes can relate Our faith unspotted, and its early date; Who prest with heart-corroding grief and years, To the gay Court a rural shed prefers, Where sole of all his train, a Matron sage Supports with homely food his drooping age, With feeble steps from marshalling his Vines Returning sad, when toilsome day declines.

With friendly speed, induc'd by erring fame, To hail Ulysses' safe return I came: But still the frown of some caelestial pow'r With envious joy retards the blissful hour. Let not your soul be sunk in sad despair; He lives, he breathes this heav'nly vital air, Among a savage race, whose shelfy bounds With ceaseless roar the foaming deep surrounds. The thoughts which rowl within my ravish'd breast, To me, no Seer, th' inspiring Gods suggest; Nor skill'd, nor studious, with prophetic eye To judge the winged Omens of the sky. Yet hear this certain speech, nor deem it vain; Though Adamantine bonds the chief restrain, The dire restraint his wisdom will defeat, And soon restore him to his regal seat. But, gen'rous youth! sincere and free declare, Are you, of manly growth, his royal heir? For sure Ulysses in your look appears, The same his features, if the same his years. Such was that face, on which I dwelt with joy Ere Greece assembled stem'd the tydes to Troy; But parting then for that detested shore, Our eyes, unhappy! never greeted more.

To prove a genuine birth (the Prince replies) On Female truth assenting faith relies; Thus manifest of right, I build my claim Sure-founded on a fair Maternal fame, Ulysses' Son: but happier he, whom fate Hath plac'd beneath the storms which toss the great! Happier the son, whose hoary sire is blest With humble affluence, and domestic rest! Happier than I, to future empire born, But doom'd a Father's wretched fate to mourn!

To whom, with aspect mild, the Guest divine. Oh true descendent of a scepter'd line! The Gods, a glorious fate from anguish free To chaste Penelope's increase decree. But say, yon' jovial Troop so gaily drest, Is this a bridal, or a friendly feast? Or from their deed I rightlier may divine, Unseemly flown with insolence and wine? Unwelcome revellers, whose lawless joy Pains the sage ear, and hurts the sober eye.

Magnificence of old, (the Prince reply'd,) Beneath our roof with Virtue cou'd reside; Unblam'd abundance crown'd the royal board, What time this dome rever'd her prudent Lord; Who now (so heav'n decrees) is doom'd to mourn, Bitter constraint! erroneous and forlorn. Better the Chief, on Ilion's hostile plain Had fall'n surrounded with his warlike train; Or safe return'd, the race of glory past, New to his friends embrace, had breath'd his last! Then grateful Greece with streaming eyes wou'd raise Historic Marbles, to record his praise; His praise, eternal on the faithful stone, Had with transmissive honour grac'd his Son. Now snatch'd by Harpies to the dreary coast, Sunk is the Hero, and his glory lost! Vanish'd at once! unheard of, and unknown! And I, his Heir in misery alone. Nor for a dear, lost Father only flow The filial tears, but woe succeeds to woe: To tempt the spouseless Queen with am'rous wiles, Resort the Nobles from the neighb'ring Isles; From Samos, circled with th' Iönian main, Dulichium, and Zacynthus' sylvan reign: Ev'n with presumptuous hope her bed t'ascend, The Lords of Ithaca their right pretend. She seems attentive to their pleaded vows, Her heart detesting what her ear allows. They, vain expectants of the bridal hour, My stores in riotous expence devour, In feast and dance the mirthful months employ, And meditate my doom, to crown their joy.

With tender pity touch'd, the Goddess cry'd: Soon may kind heav'n a sure relief provide, Soon may your Sire discharge the vengeance due, And all your wrongs the proud oppressors rue! Oh! in that portal shou'd the Chief appear, Each hand tremendous with a brazen spear, In radiant Panoply his limbs incas'd; (For so of old my father's court he grac'd, When social mirth unbent his serious soul, O'er the full banquet, and the sprightly bowl) He then from Ephyré, the fair domain Of Ilus sprung from Jason's royal strain, Measur'd a length of seas, a toilsome length, in vain. For voyaging to learn the direful art To taint with deadly drugs the barbed dart; Observant of the Gods, and sternly just, Ilus refus'd t'impart the baneful trust: With friendlier zeal my father's soul was fir'd, The drugs he knew, and gave the boon desir'd. Appear'd he now with such heroic port, As then conspicuous at the Taphian court; Soon shou'd yon' boasters cease their haughty strife, Or each atone his guilty love with life. But of his wish'd return the care resign; Be future vengeance to the pow'rs divine. My sentence hear: With stern distaste avow'd, To their own districts drive the Suitor-crowd: When next the morning warms the purple east, Convoke the Peerage, and the Gods attest; The sorrows of your inmost soul relate; And form sure plans to save the sinking state. Shou'd second love a pleasing flame inspire, And the chaste Queen connubial rites require; Dismiss'd with honour let her hence repair To great Icarius, whose paternal care Will guide her passion, and reward the choice With wealthy dow'r, and bridal gifts of price. Then let this dictate of my love prevail: Instant, to foreign realms prepare to sail, To learn your Father's fortunes: Fame may prove Or omen'd Voice (the messenger of Jove) Propitious to the search. Direct your toil Thro' the wide Ocean first to sandy Pyle, Of Nestor, hoary Sage, his doom demand; Thence speed your voyage to the Spartan strand, For young Atrides to th' Achaian coast Arriv'd the last of all the victor host. If yet Ulysses views the light, forbear, 'Till the fleet hours restore the circling year. But if his soul hath wing'd the destin'd flight, Inhabitant of deep disastrous Night, Homeward with pious speed repass the main, To the pale Shade funereal rites ordain, Plant the fair Column o'er the vacant grave, A Hero's honours let the Hero have. With decent grief the royal dead deplor'd, For the chaste Queen select an equal Lord. Then let revenge your daring mind employ, By fraud or force the Suitor-train destroy, And starting into manhood, scorn the boy. Hast thou not heard how young Orestes fir'd With great revenge, immortal praise acquir'd? His virgin sword Aegysthus' veins imbru'd; The murd'rer fell, and blood aton'd for blood. O greatly bless'd with ev'ry blooming grace! With equal steps the paths of glory trace; Join to that royal youth's, your rival name, And shine eternal in the sphere of fame— But my Associates now my stay deplore, Impatient on the hoarse-resounding shore. Thou, heedful of advice, secure proceed; My praise the precept is, be thine the deed.

The counsel of my friend (the Youth rejoin'd) Imprints conviction on my grateful mind. So Fathers speak (persuasive speech and mild!) Their sage experience to the fav'rite child. But since to part, for sweet refection due The genial viands let my train renew; And the rich pledge of plighted faith receive, Worthy the heir of Ithaca to give.

Defer the promis'd boon, (the Goddess cries, Celestial azure brightning in her eyes) And let me now regain the Reithrian port: From Temesé return'd, your royal court I shall revisit; and that pledge receive, And gifts, memorial of our friendship, leave.

Abrupt, with eagle-speed she cut the sky; Instant invisible to mortal eye. Then first he recognis'd th' Aetherial guest; Wonder and joy alternate fire his breast: Heroic thoughts infus'd his heart dilate, Revolving much his father's doubtful fate: At length compos'd, he join'd the suitor-throng, Hush'd in attention to the warbled song. His tender theme the charming Lyrist chose Minerva's anger, and the direful woes Which voyaging from Troy the Victors bore, While storms vindictive intercept the shore. The shrilling airs the vaulted roof rebounds, Reflecting to the Queen the silver sounds. With grief renew'd the weeping fair descends; Their sovereign's step a virgin train attends: A veil of richest texture wrought, she wears, And silent, to the joyous hall repairs. There from the portal, with her mild command Thus gently checks the minstrel's tuneful hand.

Phemius! let acts of Gods, and Heroes old, What ancient bards in hall and bow'r have told, Attemper'd to the Lyre, your voice employ; Such the pleas'd ear will drink with silent joy. But oh! forbear that dear, disastrous name, To sorrow sacred, and secure of fame: My bleeding bosom sickens at the sound, And ev'ry piercing note inflicts a wound.

Why, dearest object of my duteous love, (Reply'd the Prince) will you the Bard reprove? Oft, Jove's aetherial rays (resistless fire) The chanter's soul and raptur'd song inspire; Instinct divine! nor blame severe his choice, Warbling the Grecian woes with harp and voice: For novel lays attract our ravish'd ears; But old, the mind with inattention hears. Patient permit the sadly-pleasing strain; Familiar now with grief, your tears refrain, And in the publick woe forget your own; You weep not for a perish'd Lord, alone. What Greeks, now wand'ring in the Stygian gloom, With your Ulysses shar'd an equal doom! Your widow'd hours, apart, with female toil And various labours of the loom, beguile; There rule, from palace-cares remote and free, That care to man belongs, and most to me.

Mature beyond his years the Queen admires His sage reply, and with her train retires. Then swelling sorrows burst their former bounds, With echoing grief afresh the dome resounds; 'Till Pallas, piteous of her plaintive cries, In slumber clos'd her silver-streaming eyes.

Mean-time rekindl'd at the royal charms, Tumultuous love each beating bosom warms; Intemp'rate rage a wordy war began; But bold Telemachus assum'd the man. Instant (he cry'd) your female discord end, Ye deedless boasters! and the song attend: Obey that sweet compulsion, nor profane With dissonance, the smooth melodious strain. Pacific now prolong the jovial feast; But when the dawn reveals the rosy East, I, to the Peers assembled, shall propose The firm resolve I here in few disclose. No longer live the cankers of my court; All to your several states with speed resort; Waste in wild riot what your land allows, There ply the early feast, and late carouse. But if, to honour lost, 'tis still decreed For you my bowl shall flow, my flocks shall bleed, Judge and revenge my right, impartial Jove! By him, and all th' immortal thrones above, (A sacred oath) each proud oppressor slain Shall with inglorious gore this marble stain.

Aw'd by the Prince, thus haughty, bold, and young, Rage gnaw'd the lip, and wonder chain'd the tongue. Silence at length the gay Antinous broke, Constrain'd a smile, and thus ambiguous spoke.

What God to your untutor'd youth affords This headlong torrent of amazing words? May Jove delay thy reign, and cumber late So bright a genius with the toils of state!

Those toils (Telemachus serene replies) Have charms, with all their weight, t'allure the wife. Fast by the Throne obsequious Fame resides, And Wealth incessant rolls her golden tides. Nor let Antinous rage, if strong desire Of wealth and fame a youthful bosom fire: Elect by Jove his Delegate of sway, With joyous pride the summons I'd obey. Whene'er Ulysses roams the realm of Night, Shou'd factious pow'r dispute my lineal right, Some other Greeks a fairer claim may plead; To your pretence their title wou'd precede. At least, the sceptre lost, I still shou'd reign Sole o'er my vassals, and domestic train.

To this Eurymachus. To heav'n alone Refer the choice to fill the vacant Throne. Your patrimonial stores in peace possess; Undoubted all your filial claim confess: Your private right shou'd impious pow'r invade, The peers of Ithaca wou'd arm in aid. But say, that Stranger-guest who late withdrew, What, and from whence? his name and lineage shew. His grave demeanour, and majestic grace Speak him descended of no vulgar race: Did he some loan of antient right require, Or came fore-runner of your scepter'd Sire?

Oh son of Polybus! the Prince replies, No more my Sire will glad these longing eyes: The Queen's fond hope inventive rumour cheers, Or vain diviners' dreams divert her fears. That stranger-guest the Taphian realm obeys, A realm defended with incircling seas: Mentes, an ever-honour'd name, of old High in Ulysses' social list inroll'd.

Thus he, tho' conscious of th' aetherial Guest, Answer'd evasive of the fly request. Mean time the Lyre rejoins the sprightly lay; Love-dittied airs, and dance, conclude the day. But when the Star of Eve, with golden light Adorn'd the matron-brow of fable Night; The mirthful train dispersing quit the court, And to their several domes to Rest resort. A tow'ring structure to the palace join'd; To this his steps the thoughtful Prince inclin'd; In his pavilion there to sleep repairs; The lighted torch the sage Euryclea bears. (Daughter of Ops, the just Pisenor's son, For twenty beeves by great Laertes won; In rosy prime with charms attractive grac'd, Honour'd by him, a gentle Lord and chaste, With deer esteem: too wise, with jealous strife To taint the joys of sweet, connubial life. Sole with Telemachus her service ends, A child she nurs'd him, and a man attends) Whilst to his couch himself the Prince addrest, The duteous dame receiv'd the purple vest: The purple vest with decent care dispos'd, The silver ring she pull'd, the door re-clos'd; The bolt, obedient to the silken cord, To the strong staple's inmost depth restor'd, Secur'd the valves. There, wrap'd in silent shade, Pensive, the rules the Goddess gave, he weigh'd; Stretch'd on the downy fleece, no rest he knows, And in his raptur'd soul the Vision glows.