Classic Poem

But he the rough way tooke from forth the Port
Through woods and hill tops, seeking the resort
Where Pallas said divine Eumaeus liv'd:
Who of the fortunes that were first atchiev'd
By God-like Ithacus in houshold rights,
Had more true care than all his Prosylites.
He found him sitting in his Cottage dore,
Where he had rais'd to every ayry Blore
A Front of great height, and in such a place
That round ye might behold of circular grace
A walke so wound about it, which the Swain
(In absence of his farre-gone Soveraine)
Had built himselfe, without his Queene's supply
Or old Laertes', to see safely lye
His housed herd. The inner part he wrought
Of stones, that thither his owne labors brought,
Which with an hedge of Thorn he fenc't about
And compast all the hedge with pales cleft out
Of sable Oake, that here and there he fixt
Frequent and thicke. Within his yard he mixt
Twelve Sties to lodge his Heard, and every Sty
Had roome and use for fifty Swine to lye —
But those were females all. The male Swine slept
Without doores ever. Nor was their Herd kept
Faire like the Females, since they suffer'd still
Great diminution, he being forc't to kill
And send the fattest to the dainty Feasts
Affected by th'ungodly wooing guests.
Their number, therefore, but three hundred were
And sixty. By them Mastives as austere
As savage beasts lay ever, their fierce straine
Bred by the Herdsman, a meere Prince of Men:
Their number, foure. Himselfe was then appli'de
In cutting forth a faire hew'd Oxe's hide,
To fit his feete with shooes. His servants held
Guard of his Swine — three here and there at field,
The fourth he sent to City with a Sow,
Which must of force be offer'd to the Vow
The Woowers made to all saciety,
To serve which still they did those Offrings ply.
The Fate-borne-Dogs-to-Barke tooke sodaine view
Of Odysseus, and upon him flew
With open mouth. He (cunning to appall
A fierce Dog's fury) from his hand let fall
His staffe to earth, and sat him carelesse downe.
And yet to him had one foule wrong bene showne
Where most his Right lay, had not instantly
The Herdsman let his hide fall, and his cry
(With frequent stones flung at the dogges) repeld
This way and that their eager course they held —
When, through the entry past, he thus did mourne:
" O Father! How soone had you neere bene torne
By these rude Dogges — whose hurt had branded me
With much neglect of you! But Deity
Hath given so many other sighes and cares
To my attendant state that well unwares
You might be hurt for me: for heere I lie
Grieving and mourning for the Majestie
That God-like wonted to be ruling heere,
Since now I fat his Swine for others' cheere,
Where he, perhaps, errs hungry up and downe
In Countries, Nations, Cities, all unknowne,
If any where he lives yet and doth see
The Sunne's sweet beames. But, Father, follow mee,
That (cheer'd with wine and foode) you may disclose
From whence you truly are, and all the woes
Your age is subject to." This said, he led
Into his Cottage, and of Osiers spred
A thickned hurdle, on whose top he strow'd
A wilde Goat's shaggy skin, and then bestow'd
His owne Couch on it, that was soft and great.
Ulysses joy'd to see him so entreat
His uncouth Presence, saying: " Jove requite,
And all th'immortall Gods, with that delight
Thou most desir'st thy kinde receite of me,
O Friend to humane Hospitality!"
Eumaeus answer'd: " Guest! If one much wurse
Arriv'd here than thy selfe, it were a curse
To my poore meanes to let a Stranger tast
Contempt for fit food. Poore men, and unplac'st
In free seats of their owne, are all from Jove
Commended to our entertaining Love.
But poore is th'entertainment I can give,
Yet free and loving. Of such men as live
The lives of servants and are still in feare
Where yong Lords governe, this is all the cheare
They can affoord a Stranger. There was One
That usde to manage this now desart Throne,
To whom the Gods deny returne, that show'd
His curious favour to me and bestow'd
Possessions on me, a most wished wife,
A house, and portion, and a Servant's life
Fit for the gift a gracious King should give —
Who still tooke pains himselfe; and God made thrive
His personall endevour, and to me
His worke the more increast, in which you see
I now am conversant. And therefore much
His hand had help't me, had heaven's wil beene such
He might have heere growne old. But he is gone,
And would to God the whole succession
Of Helen might go with him, since for her
So many men di'de, whose Fate did confer
My Liege to Troy in Agamemnon's grace,
To spoile her People and her Turrets race."
This said, his coate to him he streight did gird
And to his Sties went, that contain'd his Herd —
From whence he tooke out two, slew both, and cut
Both fairely up, a fire enflam'd, and put
To spit the joynts; which, roasted well, he set
With spit and all to him, that he might eat
From thence his food in all the sindging heat.
Yet dreg'd it first with Flowre: then fil'd his Cup
With good sweet wine, sate then, and cheard him up.
" Eate now, my guest, such leane Swine as are meate
For us poore Swaines. The fat the wooers eate —
In whose minds no shame, no remorse, doth move,
Though well they know the blest Gods doe not love
Ungodly actions, but respect the right,
And in the workes of pious men delight.
But these are worse than impious: for those
That vow t'injustice, and professe them foes
To other Nations, enter on their Land,
And Jupiter (to shew his punishing hand
Upon th'invaded, for their pennance then)
Gives favour to their foes (though wicked men)
To make their prey on them — who, having freight
Their ships with spoile enough, weight ancor streight
And each man to his house (and yet even these
Doth powrefull feare of God's just vengeance seize
Even for that prize in which they so rejoyce):
But these men, knowing (having heard the voyce
Of God by some meanes) that sad Death hath reft
The Ruler heere, will never suffer left
Their unjust wooing of his wife, nor take
Her often answere, and their owne Roofes make
Their fit retreats, but (since uncheck't they may)
They therefore wil make still his goods their pray
Without all spare or end. There is no day
Nor night sent out from God that ever they
Prophane with one beast's blood, or onely two,
But more make spoile of; and the wrongs they do
In meate's excesse to Wine as well extend,
Which as excessively their ryots spend,
Yet still leave store. For sure his meanes were great,
And no Heroe that hath choisest seate
Upon the fruitfull neighbour Continent
Or in this Isle it selfe so opulent
Was as Ulysses — no, nor twenty such
Put altogether did possesse so much.
" Whose Herds and Flockes I'le tell to every Head:
Upon the Continent he daily fed
Twelve Herds of Oxen, no lesse Flockes of Sheepe,
As many Herds of Swine, Stals large and steepe,
And equall sort of Goats, which Tenants there
And his owne Sheepherds kept. Then fed he here
Eleven faire stalles of Goats, whose food hath yeilde
In the extreame part of a neighbor Field.
Each Stall his Herdsman hath, an honest Swaine,
Yet every one must every day sustaine
The load of one Beast (the most fat and best
Of all the Stall-fed) to the Woers' Feast.
And I (for my part) of the Swine I keepe
(With foure more Herdsmen) every day help steep
The Wooers' appetites in blood of one,
The most select our choise can fall upon."
To this Ulysses gave good eare, and fed,
And drunke his wine, and vext, and ravished
His food for meere vexation. Seeds of ill
His Stomacke sow'd, to heare his goods go still
To glut of wooers. But his dinner done
And Stomacke fed to satisfaction,
He drunke a full Bowle all of onely wine,
And gave it to the Guardian of his Swine,
Who tooke it, and rejoyc't. To whom he said:
" O Friend, who is it that (so rich) hath paid
Price for thy service, whose commended pow'r,
Thou sayst (to grace the Grecian Conquerour)
At Ilion perisht? Tell me; it may fall
I knew some such. The great God knowes, and all
The other deathlesse Godheads, if I can
(Farre having travail'd) tell of such a man."
Eumaeus answer'd: " Father, never one
Of all the Strangers that have touch't upon
This Coast with his life's Newes could ever yet
Of Queene, or lov'd sonne, any credit get.
These Travailers, for cloathes or for a meale,
At all adventures any lye will tell.
Nor do they trade for truth: not any man
That saw the people Ithacensian
Of all their sort, and had the Queene's supplies,
Did ever tell her any newes but lies.
She graciously receives them yet, enquires
Of all she can, and all in teares expires.
It is th'accustom'd Law that women keepe,
Their husbands elsewhere dead, at home to weepe.
But do thou quickly, Father, forge a Tale;
Some Coat or cloake to keepe thee warme withall
Perhaps some one may yeeld thee. But for him,
Vultures and Dogges have torne from every lim
His porous skin, and forth his soule is fled,
His coarse at Sea to Fishes forfeited,
Or on the Shore lies hid in heapes of sand;
And there hath he his ebbe, his Native Strand
With friends' teares flowing. But to me past all
Were teares created. For I never shall
Finde so humane a royall Mayster more,
What ever Sea I seeke, what ever Shore.
Nay, to my Father or my Mother's love
Should I returne, by whom I breath and move,
Could I so much joy offer; nor these eyes
(Though my desires sustaine extremities
For their sad absence) would so faine be blest
With sight of their lives, in my native Nest,
As with Ulysses dead: in whose last rest,
O friend, my soule shall love him. Hee's not here,
Nor do I name him like a Flatterer,
But as one thankfull for his Love and care
To me a poore man, in the rich so rare.
And be he past all shores where Sun can shine,
I will invoke him as a soule divine."
" O Friend," sayd he, " to say and to beleeve
He cannot live doth too much license give
To incredulity. For (not to speake
At needy randon, but my breath to breake
In sacred Oath) Ulysses shall returne.
And when his sight recomforts those that mourne
In his owne roofes, then give me cloake and cote
And garments worthy of a man of note.
Before which, though neede urg'd me never so
I'le not receive a thred, but naked go.
No lesse I hate him than the gates of hell
That poorenesse can force an untruth to tell.
Let Jove then (heaven's chiefe God) just witnes beare,
And this thy hospitable Table heere,
Together with unblam'd Ulysses' house,
In which I finde receipt so gracious,
What I affirm'd of him shall all be true.
This instant yeare thine eyes even heere shall view
Thy Lord Ulysses. Nay, ere this moneth's end
(Return'd full home) he shall revenge extend
To every one whose ever deed hath done
Wrong to his wife and his illustrous Sonne."
" O Father," he replied, " I'le neither give
Thy newes reward, nor doth Ulysses live.
But come, enough of this; let's drinke and eate,
And never more his memory repeate.
It greeves my heart to be remembred thus
By any one of one so glorious.
But stand your oath in your assertion strong,
And let Ulysses come, for whom I long,
For whom his wife, for whom his aged Sire,
For whom his Son consumes his God-like fire,
Whose chance I now must mourne, and ever shall —
Whom when the Gods had brought to be as tall
As any upright plant, and I had saide
He would amongst a Court of men have swaide
In counsailes, and for forme have bene admir'd
Even with his Father, some God misinspir'd,
Or man tooke from him his owne equall minde,
And past him for the Pylian Shore, to finde
His long-lost Father. In returne from whence
The Wooers' pride way-layes his innocence,
That of divine Arcesius all the race
May fade to Ithaca, and not the grace
Of any Name left to it. But leave we
His state, however, if surpriz'd he be,
Or if he scape. And may Saturnius' hand
Protect him safely to his native Land.
Do you then, Father, shew your griefes and cause
Of your arrivall heere; nor breake the Lawes
That Truth prescribes you, but relate your name,
And of what race you are, your Father's fame
And native Citie's; Ship and men unfold
That to this Isle convaid you, since I hold
Your heere arrivall was not all by shore,
Nor that your feete your aged person bore."
He answer'd him: " I'le tell all strictly true,
If time and foode and wine enough acrue
Within your roofe to us, that freely we
May sit and banquet. Let your businesse be
Discharg'd by others. For, when all is done.
I can not easly, while the yeare doth runne
His circle round, run over all the woes
Beneath which (by the course the Gods dispose)
My sad age labours. First, I'le tell you, then,
From ample Crete I fetch my Native straine;
My Father wealthy, whose house many a life
Brought forth and bred besides by his true wife —
But me a Bond-maid bore, his Concubine.
Yet tender'd was I as his lawfull line
By him, of whose race I my life profes.
Castor his name, surnam'd Hylacides,
A man in fore-times by the Cretan State,
For goods, good children, and his fortunate
Successe in all acts, of no meane esteem.
But death-conferring Fates have banisht him
To Pluto's kingdome. After whom, his sons
By Lots divided his possessions
And gave me passing little, yet bestow'd
A house on me, to which my vertues woo'd
A wife from rich men's roofes — nor was borne low,
Nor last in sight, though all Nerves faile me now.
But I suppose that you by thus much seene
Know by the stubble what the Corne hath bene.
For past all doubt affliction past all meane
Hath brought my age on; but, in seasons past
Both Mars and Pallas have with boldnesse grac'st,
And Fortitude, my fortunes; when I chus'd
Choise men for ambush, prest to have produc'd
Ill to mine enemies, my too ventrous spirit
Set never death before mine eyes for merit.
But (farre the first advanc't still) still I strooke
Dead with my Lance whoever overtooke
My speed of foot. Such was I then for warre.
But rusticke actions ever fled me farre
And houshold thrift, which breeds a famous race.
In Ore-driven Ships did I my pleasures place,
In Battailes, light Darts, Arrowes — sad things all,
And into others' thoughts with horror fall.
" But what God put into my minde, to me
I still esteem'd as my felicity.
As men of severall Mettals are addrest,
So severall formes are in their soules imprest.
" Before the sonnes of Greece set foot in Troy,
Nine times in Chiefe I did Command enjoy
Of Men and Ships against our forreigne foe,
And all I fitly wish't succeeded so.
Yet after this I much exploit atchiev'd —
When straight my house in all possessions thriv'd.
Yet, after that, I great and Reverend grew
Amongst the Cretans, till the Thunderer drew
Our Forces out in his foe-Troy decrees,
A hatefull service, that dissolv'd the knees
Of many a Soldier. And to this was I
And famous Idomen enjoyn'd t'apply
Our ships and pow'rs. Nor was there to be heard
One reason for deniall, so prefer'd
Was the unreasonable people's rumor.
Nine yeares we therefore fed the martiall humor,
And in the tenth (de-peopling Priam's Towne)
We sail'd for home. But God had quickly blowne
Our Fleete in peeces, and to wretched mee
The Counsailor Jove did much mishap decree.
For onely one month I had leave t'enjoy
My wife and children, and my goods t'employ.
But, after this, my minde for Egypt stoode,
When nine faire ships I rig'd forth for the flood,
Mann'd them with noble souldiers; all things fit
For such a voyage soone were won to it.
Yet sixe dayes after staid my friends in feast,
While I in banquets to the Gods addrest
Much sacred matter for their sacrifice.
The seaventh, we boorded, and the Northerne skies
Lent us a franke and passing prosperous gale,
Fore which we bore as free and easie saile
As we had back't a full and frolicke tide;
Nor felt one Ship misfortune for her pride,
But safe we sat, our Sailors and the winde
Consenting in our convoy. When heaven shin'de
In sacred radiance of the fift faire day,
To sweetly-water'd Egypt reach't our way,
And there we anchor'd, where I charg'd my men
To stay aboord, and watch. Dismissing then
Some scouts to get the hill-tops and discover,
They (to their owne intemperance given over)
Straight fell to forrage the rich fields, and thence
Enforce both wives and infants, with th'expence
Of both their bloods. When straight the rumor flew
Up to the City: (which heard) up they drew
By daie's first breake, and all the field was fild
With foot and horse, whose Armes did all things gild.
And then the Lightning-loving Deity cast
A foule flight on my soldiers, nor stood fast
One man of all. About whom Mischiefe stood,
And with his stern steele drew in streames the blood
The greater part fed in their dissolute vaines;
The rest were sav'd and made enthralled Swaines
To all the basest usages there bred.
And then even Jove himselfe supplyed my head
With saving counsaile; (though I wisht to dye,
And there in Egypt with their slaughters lye,
So much griefe seiz'd me) but Jove made me yeild,
Dishelme my head, take from my necke my shield,
Hurle from my hand my Lance, and to the troop
Of horse the King led instantly made up,
Embrace and kisse his knees — whom pitty wun
To give me safety, and (to make me shun
The people's outrage, that made in amaine,
All joyntly fir'd with thirst to see me slaine)
He tooke me to his Chariot, weeping, home —
Himselfe with feare of Jove's wrath overcome,
Who yeelding soules receives, and takes most ill
All such as well may save yet love to kill.
Seven yeares I sojourn'd heere, and treasure gat
In good abundance of th'Egyptian state,
For all would give. But when th'eight yeare began,
A knowing Fellow (that would gnaw a man
Like to a Vermine with his hellish braine,
And many an honest soule even quicke had slaine,
Whose name was Phaenix) close accosted me,
And with insinuations such as he
Practis'd on others my consent he gain'd
To go into Phaenicia, where remain'd
His house and living. And with him I liv'd
A compleat yeare. But, when were all arriv'd
The months and daies and that the yeare againe
Was turning round and every season's raigne
Renew'd upon us, we for Libya went;
When (still inventing crafts to circumvent)
He made pretext that I should onely go
And helpe convey his freight; but thought not so,
For his intent was to have sold me there
And made good gaine, for finding me a yeare.
Yet him I follow'd, though suspecting this,
For, being aboord his Ship, I must be his
Of strong Necessity. She ran the flood
(Driven with a Northerne gale, right free and good)
Amids the full streame, full on Crete. But then
Jove plotted death to him and all his men.
For (put off quite from Crete, and so farre gone
That Shore was lost, and we set eye on none,
But all shew'd heaven and sea) above our Keele
Jove pointed right a cloud as blacke as hell —
Beneath which all the sea hid, and from whence
Jove thunder'd as his hand would never thence.
And thicke into our Ship he threw his flash,
That 'gainst a Rocke or Flat her Keele did dash
With headlong Rapture. Of the sulphure all
Her bulke did savour, and her men let fall
Amids the Surges, on which all lay tost
Like Sea-guls round about her sides, and lost.
And so God tooke all home-returne from them.
But Jove himselfe (though plung'd in that extream)
Recover'd me, by thrusting on my hand
The Ship's long Mast. And (that my life might stand
A little more up) I embrac't it round,
And on the rude windes, that did ruines sound,
Nine dayes we hover'd. In the tenth blacke night
A huge Sea cast me on Thesprotia's height,
Where the Heroe Pheidon, that was chiefe
Of all the Thesprotes, gave my wracke reliefe,
Without the price of that redemption
That Phaenix fish't for — where the King's lov'd son
Came to me, tooke me by the hand and led
Into his Court, my poore life surffetted
With cold and labour; and because my wrack
Chanc't on his Father's Shore, he let not lack
My plight or coate or cloake or any thing
Might cherish heate in me. And heere the King
Said he receiv'd Ulysses as his Guest,
Observ'd him Friend-like and his course addrest
Home to his country, shewing there to me
Ulysses' goods — a very Treasurie
Of Brasse, and Gold, and Steele of curious frame.
And to the tenth succession of his name
He laid up wealth enough to serve beside
In that King's house, so hugely amplified
His treasure was. But from his Court the King
Affirm'd him ship't for the Dodonean Spring,
To heare from out the high-hair'd Oake of Jove
Counsaile from him for meanes to his remove
To his lov'd country, whence so many a yeare
He had bene absent — if he should appeare
Disguisd or manifest: and further swore
In his mid Court, at Sacrifice, before
These very eyes, that he had ready there
Both Ship and Souldiers to attend and beare
Him to his country. But, before, it chanc't
That a Thesprotean Ship was to be lanch't
For the much-corne-renown'd Dulichian Land,
In which the King gave to his men command
To take and bring me under tender hand
To King Acastus. But in ill designe
Of my poore life did their desires combine
So farre forth as might ever keepe me under
In fortune's hands, and teare my state in sunder.
And when the water-treader farre away
Had left the Land, then plotted they the day
Of my long servitude, and tooke from me
Both coate and cloake and all things that might be
Grace in my habit, and, in place, put on
These tatter'd rags which now you see upon
My wretched bosom. When heaven's light took sea,
They fetcht the Field-workes of faire Ithaca,
And in the arm'd Ship with a wel-wreath'd cord
They streightly bound me, and did all disbord
To shore to supper in contentious rout.
Yet straight the Gods themselves tooke from about
My pressed limbes the bands with equall ease,
And I (my head in rags wrapt) tooke the Seas,
Descending by the smooth sterne, using then
My hands for Oares, and made from these bad men
Long way in little time. At last I fetcht
A goodly Grove of Okes, whose Shore I recht,
And cast me prostrate on it. When they knew
My thus-made scape, about the Shores they flew,
But (soone not finding) held it not their best
To seeke me further, but return'd to rest
Aboord their Vessell. Me the Gods lodg'd close,
Conducting me into the safe repose
A good man's stable yeelded. And thus Fate
This poore houre added to my living date."
" O wretch of Guests," said he, " thy Tale hath stirr'd
My minde to much ruth, both how thou hast err'd
And suffer'd hearing, in such good parts showne.
But what thy chang'd relation would make knowne
About Ulysses, I hold neither true,
Nor will beleeve. And what need'st thou pursue
A Lye so rashly, since he sure is so
As I conceive, for which my skill shall go?
The safe returne my King lackes cannot be,
He is so envied of each Deity
So cleere, so cruelly. For not in Troy
They gave him end, nor let his Corpse enjoy
The hands of Friends (which well they might have done,
He manag'd armes to such perfection,
And should have had his Sepulcher and all,
And all the Greekes to grace his Funerall —
And this had given a glory to his Son
Through all times future.) But his head is run
Unseene, unhonor'd, into Harpies' mawes.
For my part, I'le not meddle with the cause:
I live a separate life amongst my Swine,
Come at no Towne for any need of mine,
Unlesse the circularly-witted Queene
(When any farre-come guest is to be seene
That brings her newes) commands me bring a Brawn —
About which (all things being in question drawne
That touch the King) they sit, and some are sad
For his long absence, some againe are glad
To waste his goods unwreak't, all talking still.
But, as for me, I nourish't little will
T'enquire or question of him, since the man
That faign'd himselfe the fled Ætolian
(For slaughtering one, through many Regions straid)
In my Stall (as his diversory) staide.
Where well entreating him, he told me then,
Amongst the Cretans with King Idomen
He saw Ulysses at his Ship's repaire,
That had bene brush't with the enraged aire;
And that in Summer, or in Autumne, sure
With all his brave friends and rich furniture
He would be heere — and nothing so, nor so.
But thou, an old man, taught with so much wo
As thou hast suffer'd to be season'd true,
And brought by his fate, do not heere pursue
His gratulations with thy cunning Lies.
Thou canst not soake so through my Faculties,
For I did never either honor thee
Or give thee love to bring these tales to me.
But in my feare of Hospitable Jove
Thou didst to this passe my affections move."
" You stand exceeding much incredulous,"
Reply'd Ulysses, " to have witnest thus
My word and Oath, yet yeeld no trust at all.
But make we now a covenant here, and call
The dreadfull Gods to witnesse that take seat
In large Olympus — if your King's retreat
Prove made even hither, you shall furnish me
With cloake and coate and make my passage free
For lov'd Dulichius. If (as fits my vow)
Your King returne not, let your servants throw
My old limbes headlong from some rock most hye,
That other poore men may take feare to lye."
The Herdsman, that had gifts in him divine,
Replied: " O Guest, how shal this Fame of mine
And honest vertue amongst men remaine
Now, and heereafter, without worthy staine,
If I, that led thee to my Hovell heere
And made thee fitting hospitable cheere,
Should after kill thee, and thy loved minde
Force from thy bones? Or how should stand enclin'd
With any Faith my will t'importune Jove
In any prayer heereafter for his love?
" Come, now 'tis supper's houre, and instant hast
My men wil make home, when our sweet repast
Wee'le taste together." This discourse they held
In mutual kinde, when from a neighbor field
His Swine and Swine-herds came, who in their coats
Inclosd their Herds for sleepe, which mighty throats
Laid out in entring. Then the God-like Swaine
His men enjoyn'd thus: " Bring me to be slaine
A chiefe Swine female for my stranger Guest,
When altogether we wil take our Feast,
Refreshing now our spirits, that all day take
Paines in our Swines' good, who may therefore make
For our paines with them all amends with one,
Since others eate our Labors, and take none."
This said, his sharpe steele hew'd down wood, and they
A passing fat Swine hal'd out of the Sty,
Of five yeares old, which to the fire they put.
When, first, Eumaeus from the Front did cut
The sacred haire and cast it in the fire,
Then pray'd to heaven, for stil, before desire
Was serv'd with food, in their so rude abods,
Not the poore Swine-herd would forget the Gods.
Good soules they bore, how bad soever were
The habits that their bodies' parts did beare.
When all the deathlesse Deities besought
That wise Ulysses might be safely brought
Home to his house, then with a logge of Oke
Left lying by (high lifting it) a stroke
He gave so deadly it made life expire.
Then cut the rest her throat, and all in fire
They hid and sindg'd her, cut her up, and then
The Maister tooke the office from the men,
Who on the Altar did the parts impose
That serv'd for sacrifice — beginning close
About the belly, thorough which he went,
And (all the chiefe fat gathering) gave it vent
(Part dreg'd with Flowre) into the sacred flame.
Then cut they up the joynts, and roasted them,
Drew all from spit, and serv'd in dishes all.
Then rose Eumaeus (who was General
In skill to guide each act his fit event)
And (all in seven parts cut) the first part went
To service of the Nymphs and Mercury,
To whose names he did Rites of piety
In vowes particular; and all the rest
He shar'd to every one, but his lov'd Guest
He grac't with all the Chine, and of that King
To have his heart chear'd set up every string —
Which he observing, saide: " I would to Jove,
Eumaeus, thou liv'dst in his worthy love
As great as mine, that giv'st to such a guest
As my poore selfe of all thy goods the best."
Eumaeus answer'd: " Eate, unhappy wretch,
And to what heere is at thy pleasure reach.
This I have; this thou want'st: thus God will give,
Thus take away in us, and all that live.
To his wil's equall center all things fall;
His minde he must have, for he can do all."
Thus having eate and to his wine descended,
Before he serv'd his owne thirst, he commended
The first use of it in fit sacrifice
(As of his meate) to all the Deities,
And to the City-racer's hand applide
The second cup, whose place was next his side:
Mesaulius did distribute the meate
(To which charge was Eumaeus solely set,
In absence of Ulysses, by the Queene
And old Laertes) and this man had beene
Bought by Eumaeus, with his faculties,
Employ'd then in the Taphian Merchandise.
But now to food apposde, and order'd thus,
All fell. Desire suffic'd, Mesaulius
Did take away. For bed then next they were,
All throughly satisfied with compleat cheare.
The night then came, ill, and no Taper shind:
Jove rain'd her whole date, th'ever watry wind
Zephyr blew lowd; and Laertiades
(Approving kinde Eumaeus' carefulnes
For his whole good) made farre about assay
To get some cast-off Cassocke (least he lay
That rough night cold) of him, or any one
Of those his servants: when he thus begun:
" Heare me, Eumaeus, and my other friends.
I'le use a speech that to my glory tends,
Since I have drunke wine past my usuall guise:
Strong Wine commands the Foole, and moves the wise —
Moves and impels him, too, to sing and dance
And breake in pleasant laughters, and (perchance)
Preferre a speech, too, that were better in.
But when my spirits once to speake begin,
I shall not then dissemble. Would to heaven
I were as yong and had my forces driven
As close together as when once our powres
We led to ambush under th'Ilian Towres —
Where Ithacus and Menelaus were
The two Commanders, when it pleas'd them there
To take my selfe for third; when to the Towne
And lofty wals we led, we couch't close downe
All arm'd amids the Osiers and the Reeds,
Which oftentimes th'ore-flowing River feeds.
The cold night came, and th'Icy Northerne gale
Blew bleake upon us: after which did fall
A snow so cold it cut, as in it beate
A frozen water, which was all concrete
About our Shields like Cristall. All made faine
(Above our armes) to cloathe and cloathe again.
And so we made good shift (our shields beside
Clapt close upon our cloathes) to rest and hide
From all discovery. But I, poore foole,
Left my weeds with my men, because so coole
I thought it could not prove — which thoght my pride
A little strengthen'd, being loth to hide
A goodly glittering garment I had on.
And so I follow'd with my shield alone,
And that brave weed. But when the night nere ended
Her course on earth and that the starres descended,
I jog'd Ulysses (who lay passing neare)
And spake to him, that had a nimble eare,
Assuring him that long I could not lye
Amongst the living, for the fervencie
Of that sharpe night would kill me, since as then
My evill Angell made me with my men
Leave all weeds but a fine one. " But I know
'Tis vaine to talke; here wants all remedy now. "
" This said, he bore that understanding part
In his prompt spirit that still show'd his Art
In Fight and counsell, saying (in a word,
And that low whisper'd): " Peace, least you afford
Some Greeke note of your softness " — no word more,
But made as if his sterne austerity bore
My plight no pitty. Yet (as still he lay
His head reposing on his hand) gave way
To this invention: " Heare me, friends, a Dreame
(That was of some celestiall light a beame)
Stood in my sleepe before me, prompting me
With this fit notice: " We are farre," saide he,
" From out our Fleet. Let one go then, and try
If Agamemnon wil affoord supply
To what we now are strong." " This stirr'd a speed
In Thoas to th'affaire — whose purple weede
He left for hast, which then I tooke, and lay
In quiet after, til the dawne of day.
" This shift Ulysses made for one in neede;
And would to heaven that youth such spirit did feed
Now in my Nerves, and that my joynts were knit
With such a strength as made me then held fit
To leade men with Ulysses. I should then
Seeme worth a weed that fits a herdsman's men —
For two respects, to gaine a thankfull frend,
And to a good man's neede a good extend."
" O Father," said Eumaeus, " thou hast showne
Good cause for us to give thee good renowne,
Not using any word that was not freed
From all least ill. Thou, therefore, shalt not need
Or coate or other thing that aptly may
Beseeme a wretched suppliant, for defray
Of this night's neede. But when her golden throne
The Morne ascends, you must resume your owne.
For heere you must not dreame of many weeds,
Or any change at all. We serve our needs,
As you do yours: One backe, one coate. But when
Ulysses' loved sonne returnes, he then
Shal give you coat and cassocke, and bestow
Your person where your heart and soule is now."
This said, he rose, made neere the fire his bed,
Which all with Goats' and Sheep-skins he bespred,
All which Ulysses with himselfe did line.
With whom, besides, he chang'd a gabberdine,
Thicke lin'd and soft, which stil he made his shift
When he would dresse him gainst the horrid drift
Of Tempest, when deepe winter's season blowes.
Nor pleasde it him to lye there with his Sowes,
But while Ulysses slept there, and close by
The other yonkers, he abroad would ly,
And therefore arm'd him. Which set cheerefull fare
Before Ulysses' heart, to see such care
Of his goods taken, how farre off soever
His fate, his person, and his wealth should sever.
First, then, a sharpe-edg'd sword he girt about
His well-spred shoulders, and (to shelter out
The sharpe West wind that blew) he put him on
A thick-lin'd Jacket, and yet cast upon
All that the large hide of a Goat, well fed.
A Lance then tooke he, with a keene steele head,
To be his keepe-off both 'gainst Men and Dogges:
And thus went he to rest with his male Hogges,
That still abroad lay underneath a Rocke,
Shield to the North-wind's ever eager shocke.