Classic Poem

The Man, O Muse, informe, that many a way
Wound with his wisedome to his wished stay;
That wanderd wondrous farre when He the towne
Of sacred Troy had sackt and shiverd downe.
The cities of a world of nations,
With all their manners, mindes and fashions,
He saw and knew; at Sea felt many woes,
Much care sustaind, to save from overthrowes
Himselfe and friends in their retreate for home.
But so their fates he could not overcome,
Though much he thirsted it. O men unwise,
They perisht by their owne impieties,
That in their hunger's rapine would not shunne
The Oxen of the loftie-going Sunne,
Who therefore from their eyes the day bereft
Of safe returne. These acts, in some part left,
Tell us, as others, deified seed of Jove.
Now all the rest that austere Death out-strove
At Troy's long siege at home safe anchor'd are,
Free from the malice both of sea and warre;
Onely Ulysses is denide accesse
To wife and home. The Grace of Goddesses,
The reverend Nymph Calypso, did detaine
Him in her Caves, past all the race of men
Enflam'd to make him her lov'd Lord and Spouse.
And when the Gods had destin'd that his house,
Which Ithaca on her rough bosome beares,
(The point of time wrought out by ambient yeares)
Should be his haven, Contention still extends
Her envie to him, even amongst his friends.
All Gods tooke pitie on him: onely he
That girds Earth in the cincture of the sea
Divine Ulysses ever did envie,
And made the fixt port of his birth to flie.
But he himselfe solemniz'd a retreate
To th'Æthiops, farre dissunderd in their seate
(In two parts parted, at the Sunne's descent
And underneath his golden Orient
The first and last of men), t'enjoy their feast
Of buls and lambes in Hecatombs addrest:
At which he sat, given over to Delight.
The other Gods in Heaven's supreamest height
Were all in Councell met — to whom began
The mightie Father, both of God and man,
Discourse, inducing matter that inclin'd
To wise Ulysses, calling to his mind
Faultfull Ægisthus, who to death was done
By yong Orestes, Agamemnon's sonne.
His memorie to the Immortals then
Mov'd Jove thus deeply: " O how falsly men
Accuse us Gods as authors of their ill,
When by the bane their owne bad lives instill
They suffer all the miseries of their states —
Past our inflictions and beyond their fates.
As now Ægisthus past his fate did wed
The wife of Agamemnon, and (in dread
To suffer death himselfe) to shunne his ill
Incurr'd it by the loose bent of his will,
In slaughtering Atrides in retreate —
Which we foretold him would so hardly set
To his murtherous purpose, sending Mercurie
(That slaughterd Argus) our considerate spie
To give him this charge: " Do not wed his wife,
Nor murther him, for thou shalt buy his life
With ransome of thine owne, imposde on thee
By his Orestes, when in him shall be
Atrides' selfe renewd, and but the prime
Of youth's spring put abroad, in thirst to clime
His haughtie Father's throne by his high acts. "
These words of Hermes wrought not into facts
Ægisthus' powres; good counsell he despisde,
And to that Good his ill is sacrifisde."
Pallas (whose eyes did sparkle like the skies)
Answerd: " O Sire! supreame of Deities!
Ægisthus past his Fate and had desert
To warrant our infliction; and convert
May all the paines such impious men inflict
On innocent sufferers to revenge as strict,
Their owne hearts eating. But that Ithacus
(Thus never meriting) should suffer thus
I deeply suffer. His more pious mind
Divides him from these fortunes. Though unkind
Is Pietie to him, giving him a fate
More suffering than the most infortunate,
So long kept friendlesse in a sea-girt soile,
Where the sea's navile is a sylvane Ile,
In which the Goddesse dwels that doth derive
Her birth from Atlas, who of all alive
The motion and the fashion doth command,
With his wise mind, whose forces understand
The inmost deepes and gulfes of all the seas,
Who (for his skill of things superiour) stayes
The two steepe Columnes that prop earth and heaven.
His daughter tis who holds this homelesse-driven
Still mourning with her — evermore profuse
Of soft and winning speeches that abuse
And make so languishingly and possest
With so remisse a mind, her loved guest
Manage the action of his way for home.
Where he (though in affection overcome)
In judgement yet more longs to shew his hopes,
His countrie's smoke leape from her chimney tops,
And death askes in her armes. Yet never shall
Thy lov'd heart be converted on his thrall,
Austere Olympius. Did not ever he
In ample Troy thy altars gratifie,
And Grecians' Fleete make in thy offerings swim?
O Jove, why still then burnes thy wrath to him?"
The Cloud-assembler answerd: " What words flie,
Bold daughter, from thy Pale of Ivorie?
As if I ever could cast from my care
Divine Ulysses, who exceeds so farre
All men in wisedome, and so oft hath given
To all th'Immortals thron'd in ample heaven
So great and sacred gifts? But his decrees,
That holds the earth in with his nimble knees,
Stand to Ulysses' longings so extreme,
For taking from the God-foe Polypheme
His onely eye — a Cyclop, that excell'd
All other Cyclops, with whose burthen swell'd
The Nymph Thoosa, the divine increase
Of Phorcys' seed, a great God of the seas.
She mixt with Neptune in his hollow caves
And bore this Cyclop to that God of waves.
For whose lost eye th'Earth-shaker did not kill
Erring Ulysses, but reserves him still
In life for more death. But use we our powres
And round about us cast these cares of ours,
All to discover how we may preferre
His wisht retreate, and Neptune make forbeare
His sterne eye to him — since no one God can
In spite of all prevaile, but gainst a man."
To this, this answer made the gray-eyd Maide:
" Supreame of rulers, since so well apaide
The blessed Gods are all then, now, in thee
To limit wise Ulysses' miserie,
And that you speake as you referd to me
Prescription for the meanes, in this sort be
Their sacred order: — Let us now addresse
With utmost speed our swift Argicides,
To tell the Nymph that beares the golden Tresse
In th'ile Ogygia that tis our will
She should not stay our lov'd Ulysses still,
But suffer his returne: and then will I
To Ithaca, to make his sonne apply
His Sire's inquest the more, infusing force
Into his soule to summon the concourse
Of curld-head Greekes to counsaile, and deterre
Each wooer that hath bene the slaughterer
Of his fat sheepe and crooked-headed beeves
From more wrong to his mother, and their leaves
Take in such termes as fit deserts so great.
To Sparta then, and Pylos, where doth beate
Bright Amathus, the flood and epithete
To all that kingdome, my advice shall send
The spirit-advanc'd Prince, to the pious end
Of seeking his lost father, if he may
Receive report from Fame where rests his stay —
And make, besides, his owne successive worth
Knowne to the world and set in action forth."
This said, her wingd shooes to her feete she tied,
Formd all of gold and all eternified,
That on the round earth or the sea sustaind
Her ravisht substance swift as gusts of wind.
Then tooke she her strong Lance, with steele made keene,
Great, massie, active, that whole hoasts of men
(Though all Heroes) conquers, if her ire
Their wrongs inflame, backt by so great a Sire.
Downe from Olympus' tops she headlong div'd,
And swift as thought in Ithaca arriv'd,
Close at Ulysses' gates; in whose first court
She made her stand, and for her breast's support
Leand on her iron Lance; her forme imprest
With Mentas' likenesse, come as being a guest.
There found she those proud wooers, that were then
Set on those Oxe-hides that themselves had slaine,
Before the gates, and all at dice were playing.
To them the heralds and the rest, obaying,
Fill'd wine and water; some, still as they plaid,
And some, for solemne supper's state, purvaid
With porous sponges, clensing tables, serv'd
With much rich feast; of which to all they kerv'd.
God-like Telemachus amongst them sat,
Griev'd much in mind; and in his heart begat
All representment of his absent Sire —
How (come from far-off parts) his spirits would fire
With those proud wooers' sight, with slaughter parting
Their bold concourse, and to himselfe converting
The honors they usurpt, his owne commanding.
In this discourse, he first saw Pallas standing,
Unbidden entrie; up rose and addrest
His pace right to her, angrie that a guest
Should stand so long at gate; and, coming neare,
Her right hand tooke, tooke in his owne her speare,
And thus saluted: " Grace to your repaire,
Faire guest, your welcome shall be likewise faire.
Enter and (chear'd with feast) disclose th'intent
That causde your coming." This said, first he went,
And Pallas followd. To a roome they came,
Steepe, and of state; the Javelin of the Dame
He set against a pillar vast and hie,
Amidst a large and bright-kept Armorie,
Which was, besides, with woods of Lances grac'd
Of his grave father's. In a throne he plac'd
The man-turnd Goddesse, under which was spred
A Carpet, rich and of devicefull thred,
A footstoole staying her feete; and by her chaire
Another seate (all garnisht wondrous faire,
To rest or sleepe on in the day) he set
Farre from the prease of wooers, lest at meate
The noise they still made might offend his guest,
Disturbing him at banquet or at rest,
Even to his combat, with that pride of theirs
That kept no noble forme in their affaires.
And these he set farre from them, much the rather
To question freely of his absent father.
A Table fairely polisht then was spread,
On which a reverend officer set bread,
And other servitors all sorts of meate
(Salads, and flesh, such as their haste could get),
Serv'd with observance in. And then the Sewre
Powr'd water from a great and golden Ewre,
That from their hands t'a silver Caldron ran.
Both washt and seated close, the voicefull man
Fetcht cups of gold and set by them, and round
Those cups with wine with all endevour crownd.
Then rusht in the rude wooers; themselves plac't;
The heralds water gave; the maids in haste
Serv'd bread from baskets — when of all prepar'd
And set before them the bold wooers shar'd,
Their Pages plying their cups past the rest.
But lustie wooers must do more than feast;
For now (their hungers and their thirsts allaid)
They call'd for songs and Dances. Those, they said,
Were th'ornaments of feast. The herald strait
A Harpe, carv'd full of artificiall sleight,
Thrust into Phemius' (a learnd singer's) hand,
Who till he much was urg'd on termes did stand,
But, after, plaid and sung with all his art.
Telemachus to Pallas then (apart,
His eare inclining close, that none might heare)
In this sort said: " My Guest, exceeding deare,
Will you not sit incenst with what I say?
These are the cares these men take — feast and play —
Which easly they may use, because they eate,
Free and unpunisht, of another's meate,
And of a man's whose white bones wasting lie
In some farre region, with th'incessancie
Of showres powr'd downe upon them, lying ashore,
Or in the seas washt nak'd. Who, if he wore
Those bones with flesh and life and industrie,
And these might here in Ithaca set eye
On him returnd, they all would wish to be
Either past other in celeritie
Of feete and knees, and not contend t'exceed
In golden garments. But his vertues feed
The fate of ill death, nor is left to me
The least hope of his life's recoverie —
No, not if any of the mortall race
Should tell me his returne; the chearfull face
Of his returnd day never will appeare.
But tell me — and let Truth your witnesse beare —
Who, and from whence you are, what citie's birth,
What parents? In what vessell set you forth,
And with what mariners arriv'd you here?
I cannot thinke you a foote passenger.
Recount then to me all, to teach me well
Fit usage for your worth. And if it fell
In chance now first that you thus see us here,
Or that in former passages you were
My father's guest? For many men have bene
Guests to my father. Studious of men
His sociable nature ever was."
On him againe the grey-eyd Maide did passe
This kind reply: " I'le answer passing true
All thou hast askt. My birth his honour drew
From wise Anchialus. The name I beare
Is Mentas, the commanding Ilander
Of all the Taphians, studious in the art
Of Navigation, having toucht this part
With ship and men, of purpose to maintaine
Course through the darke seas t'other-languag'd men.
And Temesis sustaines the citie's name
For which my ship is bound, made knowne by fame
For rich in brasse, which my occasions need;
And therefore bring I shining steele in steed,
Which their use wants, yet makes my vessel's freight,
That neare a plowd field rides at anchor's weight,
Apart this citie, in the harbor calld
Rhethrus, whose waves with Neius' woods are walld.
Thy Sire and I were ever mutuall guests
At either's house, still interchanging feasts.
I glorie in it. Aske, when thou shalt see
Laertes, th'old Heroe, these of mee
From the beginning. He, men say, no more
Visits the Citie, but will needs deplore
His sonne's beleev'd losse in a private field —
One old maide onely at his hands to yeeld
Foode to his life, as oft as labour makes
His old limbs faint; which, though he creepes, he takes
Along a fruitfull plaine, set all with vines,
Which husbandman-like (though a King) he proines.
But now I come to be thy father's guest.
I heare he wanders while these wooers feast.
And (as th'Immortals prompt me at this houre)
I'le tell thee, out of a prophetique powre —
Not as profest a Prophet, nor cleare seene
At all times what shall after chance to men —
What I conceive for this time will be true: —
The Gods' inflictions keepe your Sire from you.
Divine Ulysses yet abides not dead
Above earth, nor beneath, nor buried
In any seas (as you did late conceive),
But, with the broad sea sieg'd, is kept alive
Within an Ile by rude and up-land men,
That in his spite his passage home detaine.
Yet long it shall not be before he tred
His countrie's deare earth, though solicited
And held from his returne with iron chaines,
For he hath wit to forge a world of traines,
And will of all be sure to make good one
For his returne, so much relide upon.
But tell me, and be true: Art thou indeed
So much a sonne as to be said the seed
Of Ithacus himselfe? Exceeding much
Thy forehead and faire eyes at his forme touch,
For oftentimes we met, as you and I
Meete at this houre, before he did apply
His powres for Troy, when other Grecian States
In hollow ships were his associates.
But since that time mine eyes could never see
Renowmd Ulysses, nor met his with me."
The wise Telemachus againe replide:
" You shall with all I know be satisfide.
My mother, certaine, sayes I am his sonne:
I know not, nor was ever simply knowne
By any child the sure truth of his Sire.
But would my veines had tooke in living fire
From some man happie, rather than one wise,
Whom age might see seizd of what youth made prise.
But he, whoever of the mortall race
Is most unblest, he holds my father's place.
This, since you aske, I answer." She, againe:
" The Gods sure did not make the future straine
Both of thy race and dayes obscure to thee,
Since thou wert borne so of Penelope.
The stile may by thy after acts be wonne,
Of so great Sire the high undoubted sonne.
Say truth in this then: What's this feasting here?
What all this rout? Is all this nuptiall cheare?
Or else some friendly banquet made by thee?
For here no shots are, where all sharers be.
Past measure contumeliously this crew
Fare through thy house; which should th'ingenuous view
Of any good or wise man come and find,
(Impietie seeing playd in every kind)
He could not but through every veine be mov'd."
Againe Telemachus: " My guest much lov'd,
Since you demand and sift these sights so farre,
I grant twere fit a house so regular,
Rich and so faultlesse once in government,
Should still at all parts the same forme present
That gave it glorie while her Lord was here.
But now the Gods, that us displeasure beare,
Have otherwise appointed, and disgrace
My father most of all the mortall race.
For whom I could not mourne so were he dead,
Amongst his fellow Captaines slaughtered
By common enemies, or in the hands
Of his kind friends had ended his commands,
After he had egregiously bestow'd
His powre and order in a warre so vow'd,
And to his tombe all Greekes their grace had done,
That to all ages he might leave his sonne
Immortall honor: but now Harpies have
Digg'd in their gorges his abhorred grave.
Obscure, inglorious, Death hath made his end,
And me (for glories) to all griefes contend.
Nor shall I any more mourne him alone,
The Gods have given me other cause of mone.
For looke how many Optimates remaine
In Samos, or the shoares Dulichian,
Shadie Zacynthus; or how many beare
Rule in the rough browes of this Iland here;
So many now my mother and this house
At all parts make defam'd and ruinous.
And she her hatefull nuptials nor denies,
Nor will dispatch their importunities,
Though she beholds them spoile still as they feast
All my free house yeelds, and the little rest
Of my dead Sire in me, perhaps intend
To bring, ere long, to some untimely end."
This Pallas sigh'd, and answerd: " O," said she,
" Absent Ulysses is much mist by thee,
That on these shamelesse suiters he might lay
His wreakfull hands. Should he now come and stay
In thy Court's first gates, armd with helme and shield,
And two such darts as I have seene him wield
When first I saw him in our Taphian Court,
Feasting and doing his deserts disport
When from Ephyrus he returnd by us
From Ilus, sonne to Centaur Mermerus —
To whom he traveld through the watrie dreads
For bane to poison his sharpe arrowes' heads,
That death, but toucht, causde; which he would not give,
Because he fear'd the Gods that ever live
Would plague such death with death, and yet their feare
Was to my father's bosome not so deare
As was thy father's love (for what he sought,
My loving father found him to a thought) —
If such as then Ulysses might but meete
With these proud wooers, all were at his feete
But instant dead men, and their nuptials
Would prove as bitter as their dying galls.
But these things in the Gods' knees are reposde,
If his returne shall see with wreake inclosde
These in his house, or he returne no more.
And therefore I advise thee to explore
All waies thy selfe to set these wooers gone;
To which end give me fit attention.
Tomorrow into solemne councell call
The Greeke Heroes, and declare to all
(The Gods being witnesse) what thy pleasure is:
Command to townes of their nativities
These frontlesse wooers. If thy mother's mind
Stands to her second nuptials so enclinde,
Returne she to her royall father's towers,
Where th'one of these may wed her, and her dowers
Make rich, and such as may consort with grace
So deare a daughter of so great a race.
And thee I warne as well (if thou as well
Wilt heare and follow) take thy best built saile,
With twentie owers mann'd, and haste t'enquire
Where the abode is of thy absent Sire —
If any can informe thee, or thine eare
From Jove the fame of his retreate may heare
(For chiefly Jove gives all that honours men).
" To Pylos first be thy addression then
To god-like Nestor. Thence to Sparta haste
To gold-lockt Menelaus, who was last
Of all the brasse-armd Greekes that saild from Troy.
And trie from both these, if thou canst enjoy
Newes of thy Sire's returnd life any where,
Though sad thou sufferst in his search a yeare.
If of his death thou hear'st, returne thou home,
And to his memorie erect a tombe,
Performing parent-rites of feast and game,
Pompous, and such as best may fit his fame;
And then thy mother a fit husband give.
These past, consider how thou maist deprive
Of worthlesse life these wooers in thy house,
By open force, or projects enginous.
Things childish fit not thee; th'art so no more.
Hast thou not heard how all men did adore
Divine Orestes, after he had slaine
Ægisthus, murthering by a trecherous traine
His famous father? Be then, my most lov'd,
Valiant and manly, every way approv'd
As great as he. I see thy person fit,
Noble thy mind, and excellent thy wit —
All given thee so to use and manage here
That even past death they may their memories beare.
In meane time I'le descend to ship and men,
That much expect me. Be observant then
Of my advice, and carefull to maintaine
In equall acts thy royall father's raigne."
Telemachus replide: " You ope, faire Guest,
A friend's heart in your speech, as well exprest
As might a father serve t'informe his sonne:
All which sure place have in my memorie wonne.
Abide yet, though your voyage calls away,
That, having bath'd and dignifide your stay
With some more honour, you may yet beside
Delight your mind by being gratifide
With some rich Present taken in your way,
That, as a Jewell, your respect may lay
Up in your treasurie, bestowd by me,
As free friends use to guests of such degree."
" Detaine me not," said she, " so much inclinde
To haste my voyage. What thy loved minde
Commands to give, at my returne this way
Bestow on me, that I directly may
Convey it home; which (more of price to mee)
The more it askes my recompence to thee."
This said, away gray-eyd Minerva flew,
Like to a mounting Larke; and did endue
His mind with strength and boldnesse, and much more
Made him his father long for than before.
And weighing better who his guest might be,
He stood amaz'd, and thought a Deitie
Was there descended: to whose will he fram'd
His powres at all parts, and went so inflam'd
Amongst the wooers, who were silent set
To heare a Poet sing the sad retreat
The Greekes performd from Troy — which was from thence
Proclaimd by Pallas, paine of her offence.
When which divine song was perceiv'd to beare
That mournfull subject by the listning eare
Of wise Penelope (Icarius' seed,
Who from an upper roome had giv'n it heed)
Downe she descended by a winding staire —
Not solely, but the State in her repaire
Two Maides of Honour made. And when this Queene
Of women stoopt so low, she might be seene
By all her wooers. In the doore, aloofe
(Entring the Hall grac'd with a goodly roofe)
She stood, in shade of gracefull vailes implide
About her beauties: on her either side
Her honor'd women. When, (to teares mov'd) thus
She chid the sacred Singer: " Phemius,
You know a number more of these great deeds
Of Gods and men (that are the sacred seeds
And proper subjects of a Poet's song,
And those due pleasures that to men belong)
Besides these facts that furnish Troy's retreate.
Sing one of those to these, that round your seate
They may with silence sit, and taste their wine:
But ceasse this song, that through these eares of mine
Convey deserv'd occasion to my heart
Of endlesse sorrowes, of which the desert
In me unmeasur'd is past all these men,
So endlesse is the memorie I retaine,
And so desertfull is that memorie
Of such a man as hath a dignitie
So broad it spreds it selfe through all the pride
Of Greece and Argos.' To the Queene, replide
Inspir'd Telemachus: " Why thus envies
My mother him that fits societies
With so much harmonie, to let him please
His owne mind in his will to honor these?
For these ingenuous and first sort of men
That do immediatly from Jove retaine
Their singing raptures are by Jove as well
Inspir'd with choice of what their songs impell.
Jove's will is free in it, and therefore theirs;
Nor is this man to blame that the repaires
The Greekes make homeward sings, for his fresh Muse
Men still most celebrate that sings most newes.
" And therefore in his note your eares employ:
For not Ulysses onely lost in Troy
The day of his returne, but numbers more
The deadly ruines of his fortunes bore.
Go you then in, and take your worke in hand,
Your web and distaffe, and your maids command
To plie their fit worke. Words to men are due,
And those reproving counsels you pursue,
And most to me of all men, since I beare
The rule of all things that are manag'd here."
She went amazd away, and in her heart
Laid up the wisedome Pallas did impart
To her lov'd sonne so lately, turnd againe
Up to her chamber, and no more would raigne
In manly counsels. To her women she
Applied her sway, and to the wooers he
Began new orders, other spirits bewraid
Than those in spite of which the wooers swaid.
And (whiles his mother's teares still washt her eies,
Till gray Minerva did those teares surprise
With timely sleepe, and that her woo'rs did rouse
Rude Tumult up through all the shadie house,
Disposde to sleepe because their widow was),
Telemachus this new-given spirit did passe
On their old insolence: " Ho! you that are
My mother's wooers! Much too high ye beare
Your petulant spirits! Sit, and, while ye may
Enjoy me in your banquets, see ye lay
These loud notes downe, nor do this man the wrong
(Because my mother hath dislikt his song)
To grace her interruption: tis a thing
Honest, and honourd too, to heare one sing
Numbers so like the Gods in elegance
As this man flowes in. By the morne's first glance
I'le call ye all before me in a Court
That I may cleerly banish your resort
With all your rudenesse from these roofes of mine.
Away; and elsewhere in your feasts combine:
Consume your owne goods and make mutuall feast
At either's house. Or if ye still hold best,
And for your humors' more suffised fill,
To feed, to spoile (because unpunisht still)
On other findings, spoile; but here I call
Th' eternall Gods to witnesse, if it fall
In my wisht reach once to be dealing wreakes,
(By Jove's high bountie) these your present checks
To what I give in charge shall adde more reines
To my revenge hereafter, and the paines
Ye then must suffer shall passe all your pride
Ever to see redrest or qualifide."
At this all bit their lips, and did admire
His words sent from him with such phrase and fire:
Which so much mov'd them, that Antinous
(Eupitheus' sonne) cried out: " Telemachus!
The Gods, I thinke, have rapt thee to this height
Of elocution, and this great conceit
Of selfe-abilitie. We all may pray
That Jove invest not in this kingdome's sway
Thy forward forces, which I see put forth
A hote ambition in thee for thy birth."
" Be not offended," he replide, " if I
Shall say I would assume this emperie,
If Jove gave leave. You are not he that sings:
The rule of kingdomes is the worst of things.
Nor is it ill at all to sway a throne:
A man may quickly gaine possession
Of mightie riches, make a wondrous prise
Set of his vertues, but the dignities
That decke a King, there are enough beside
In this circumfluous Ile that want no pride
To thinke them worthy of, as yong as I,
And old as you are. An ascent so hie
My thoughts affect not: dead is he that held
Desert of vertue to have so exceld.
But of these turrets I will take on me
To be the absolute King, and reigne as free
As did my father, over all his hand
Left here is this house slaves to my command."
Eurymachus, the sonne of Polybus,
To this made this reply: " Telemachus!
The Girlond of this kingdome let the knees
Of deitie runne for; but the faculties
This house is seasd of, and the turrets here,
Thou shalt be Lord of, nor shall any beare
The least part off of all thou doest possesse,
As long as this land is no wildernesse
Nor rul'd by out-lawes. But give these their passe,
And tell me, best of Princes, who he was
That guested here so late? From whence? And what
In any region bosted he his state?
His race? His countrie? Brought he any newes
Of thy returning Father? Or for dues
Of moneys to him made he fit repaire?
How sodainly he rusht into the aire,
Nor would sustaine to stay and make him knowne!
His Port shewd no debaucht companion."
He answerd: " The returne of my lov'd Sire
Is past all hope; and should rude Fame inspire
From any place a flattring messenger
With newes of his survivall, he should beare
No least beliefe off from my desperate love.
Which if a sacred Prophet should approve
(Calld by my mother for her care's unrest),
It should not move me. For my late faire guest,
He was of old my Father's, touching here
From Sea-girt Taphos, and for name doth beare
Mentas, the sonne of wise Anchialus,
And governes all the Taphians, studious
Of Navigation." This he said, but knew
It was a Goddesse. These againe withdrew
To dances, and attraction of the song.
And while their pleasures did the time prolong,
The sable Even descended, and did steepe
The lids of all men in desire of sleepe.
Telemachus, into a roome built hie
Of his illustrous Court, and to the eie
Of circular prospect, to his bed ascended,
And in his mind much weightie thought contended.
Before him, Euryclea (that well knew
All the observance of a handmaid's due,
Daughter to Opis Pisenorides)
Bore two bright torches — who did so much please
Laertes in her prime that for the price
Of twentie Oxen he made merchandize
Of her rare beauties, and Love's equall flame
To her he felt as to his nuptiall Dame.
Yet never durst he mixe with her in bed,
So much the anger of his wife he fled.
She, now growne old, to yong Telemachus
Two torches bore, and was obsequious,
Past all his other maids, and did apply
Her service to him from his infancie.
His wel-built chamber reacht, she op't the dore;
He on his bed sat, the soft weeds he wore
Put off, and to the diligent old maid
Gave all, who fitly all in thicke folds laid,
And hung them on a beame-pin neare the bed,
That round about was rich embrodered.
Then made she haste forth from him, and did bring
The doore together with a silver ring,
And by a string a barre to it did pull.
He, laid, and coverd well with curled wooll
Woven in silke quilts, all night emploid his minde
About the taske that Pallas had design'd.