Classic Poem

He said, and silence all their Tongues contain'd
(In admiration) when with pleasure chain'd
Their eares had long bene to him. At last brake
Alcinous silence, and in this sort spake
To th'Ithacensian, Laertes' Sonne:
" O Ithacus! How ever over-runne
With former sufferings in your way for home,
Since 'twas, at last, your happy Fate to come
To my high-rooft and Brasse-foundation'd house,
I hope such speede and passe auspicious
Our Loves shall yeeld you that you shall no more
Wander, nor suffer, homewards as before.
" You then, whoever that are ever grac'st
With all choise of authoriz'd power to tast
Such wine with me as warmes the sacred Rage,
And is an Honorarie given to Age,
With which ye likewise heare Divinely sing
(In Honor's praise) the Poet of the King —
I move, by way of my command, to this:
That where, in an elaborate Chist, there lies
A Present for our Guest, Attires of price,
And Gold engraven with infinite device,
I wish that each of us should adde beside
A Tripod and a Caldron, amplified
With size, and Mettall of most rate, and great.
For we (in counsaile of taxation met)
Will from our Subjects gaine their worth againe,
Since 'tis unequall one man should sustaine
A charge so waighty, being the grace of all,
Which borne by many is a waight but small."
Thus spake Alcinous, and pleas'd the rest;
When each man clos'd with home and sleep his feast.
But when the colour-giving light arose,
All to the Ship did all their speeds dispose,
And wealth (that honest men makes) broght with them.
All which even he that wore the Diadem
Stow'd in the Ship himselfe beneath the seats
The Rowers sate in — stooping, lest their lets
In any of their labors he might prove.
Then home he turn'd, and after him did move
The whole assembly to expected Feast.
Amongst whom he a sacrifice addrest,
And slue an Oxe to weather-wielding Jove,
Beneath whose Empire all things are and move.
The thighs then rosting, they made glorious chere,
Delighted highly; and amongst them there
The honor'd of the people us'd his voice,
Divine Demodocus. Yet through this choice
Of Cheere and Musicke had Ulysses still
An Eye directed to the Easterne hill,
To see Him rising that illustrates all —
For now into his minde a fire did fall
Of thirst for home. And as in hungry vow
To needfull food a man at fixed Plow
(To whom the black Oxe all day long hath turn'd
The stubborne fallowes up, his stomacke burn'd
With empty heate and appetite to food,
His knees afflicted with his spirit-spent blood)
At length the long-expected Sun-set sees,
That he may sit to foode and rest his knees:
So to Ulysses set the friendly light
The Sun affoorded with as wish't a sight.
Who straight bespake that Ore-affecting State,
But did in chiefe his speech appropriate
To him by Name that with their Rule was crown'd:
" Alcinous, of all men most renown'd!
Dismisse me with as safe passe as you vow
(Your offering past), and may the Gods to you
In all contentment use as full a hand:
For now my landing heere and stay shall stand
In all perfection with my heart's desire,
Both my so safe deduction to aspire,
And loving gifts; which may the Gods to me
As blest in use make as your acts are free,
Even to the finding firme in love and life,
With all desir'd event, my friends and wife —
When, as my selfe shall live delighted there,
May you, with your wives, rest as happy here,
Your Sonnes and Daughters (in particular State)
With every vertue rendred consummate,
And in your generall Empire may ill never
Approch your Land, but good your good quit ever."
This all applauded, and all joyntly cried:
" Dismisse the Stranger: he hath dignified
With fit speech his dismission." Then the King
Thus charg'd the Herrald: " Fill for offering
A bowl of wine, which through the whol large house
Dispose to all men, that, propitious
Our Father Jove made with our prayers, we may
Give home our Guest in full and wished way."
This said, Pontonous commixt a Bowle
Of such sweete wine as did delight the soule —
Which making sacred to the blessed Gods
That hold in broad heaven their supreame abodes,
God-like Ulysses from his chaire arose,
And in the hands of th'Empresse did impose
The all-round Cup — to whom (faire spoke) he saide:
" Rejoyce, O.Queene, and be your joyes repaide
By heaven, for me, till age and death succeede —
Both which inflict their most unwelcome neede
On Men and Dames alike. And first (for me)
I must from hence to both. Live you heere free,
And ever may all living blessings spring
Your joy in Children, Subjects, and your King."
This saide, divine Ulysses tooke his way:
Before whom the unalterable sway
Of King Alcinous' virtue did command
A Herald's fit attendance to the Strand
And Ship appointed. With him likewise went
Handmaids, by Arete's injunction sent.
One bore an Out and In-weede, faire and sweete,
The other an embroider'd Cabinet,
The third had Bread to beare and ruddy wine;
All which (at Sea and Ship arriv'd) resigne
Their Freight confer'd — with faire attendants then
The sheets and bedding of the Man of men
Within a Cabin of the hollow Keele
Spred and made soft, that sleepe might sweetly seele
His restfull eyes. He enter'd, and his Bed
In silence tooke. The Rowers ordered
Themselves in severall seates, and then set gone
The Ship, the Gable from the hollow stone
Dissolv'd and weigh'd up. Altogether close
Then beate the Sea. His lids in sweete repose
Sleepe bound so fast it scarce gave way to breath,
Inexcitable, most deare, next of all to death.
And as amids a faire field foure brave horse
Before a Chariot, stung into their course
With fervent lashes of the smarting Scourge,
That all their fire blowes high and makes them urge
To utmost speede the measure of their ground:
So bore the Ship aloft her fiery Bound —
About whom rusht the billowes, blacke and vast,
In which the Sea-roares burst. As firme as fast
She ply'd her Course yet, nor her winged speede
The Faulcon gentle could for pace exceede.
So cut she through the waves, and bore a Man
Even with the Gods in counsailes, that began
And spent his former life in all misease,
Battailes of men, and rude waves of the Seas,
Yet now securely slept, forgetting all.
And when heaven's brightest star, that first doth call
The early morning out, advanc't her head,
Then neere to Ithaca the Billow-bred
Phaeacian Ship approch't. There is a Port
That th'aged Sea-God Phorcys makes his Fort,
Whose earth the Ithacensian people owne,
In which two Rockes inaccessible are growne
Farre forth into the Sea, whose each strength binds
The boistrous waves in from the high-flowne winds
On both the out-parts so that all within
The well-built Ships, that once their harbour win
In his calme bosome, without Anchor rest
Safe and unstir'd. From forth the haven's high crest
Branch the well-brawn'd armes of an Olive tree;
Beneath which runs a Cave from all Sun free,
Coole and delightsome, sacred to th'accesse
Of Nymphs whose sur-names are the Naiades;
In which flew humming Bees, in which lay throwne
Stone cups, Stone vessels, Shittles, all of stone,
With which the Nymphs their purple Mantles wove,
In whose contexture Art and wonder strove;
In which pure Springs perpetually ran;
To which two entries were — the one for man
(On which the North breath'd), th'other for the gods
(On which the South), and that bore no abodes
For earthy men, but onely deathlesse feete
Had there free way. This Port these men thoght meet
To Land Ulysses, being the first they knew,
Drew then their Ship in, but no further drew
Than halfe her bulke reach't, by such cunning hand
Her course was manag'd. Then her men tooke land,
And first brought forth Ulysses, bed and all
That richly furnisht it, he still in thrall
Of all-subduing sleepe. Upon the sand
They set him softly downe, and then the Strand
They strew'd with all the goods he had, bestow'd
By the renown'd Phaeacians, since he show'd
So much Minerva. At the Olive roote
They drew them then in heape, most far from foote
Of any Travailer, least ere his eyes
Resum'd their charge they might be others' prize.
These then turn'd home: nor was the sea's supreme
Forgetful of his threats for Polypheme
Bent at divine Ulysses, yet would prove
(Ere their performance) the decree of Jove:
" Father! No more the Gods shall honor me,
Since men despise me, and those men that see
The Light in Linage of mine owne lov'd race.
I vow'd Ulysses should, before the grace
Of his returne, encounter woes enow
To make that purchase deare — yet did not vow
Simply against it, since thy Brow had bent
To his reduction in the fore-consent
Thou hadst vouchsaf't it. Yet before my minde
Hath full powre on him, the Phaeacians finde
Their owne minds' satisfaction with his Passe —
So farre from suffering what my pleasure was
That ease and softnesse now is habited
In his secure brest, and his carelesse head
Return'd in peace of sleepe to Ithaca,
The Brasse and Gold of rich Phaeacia
Rocking his Temples, Garments richly woven,
And worlds of Prize more than was ever stroven
From all the conflicts he sustain'd at Troy,
If safe he should his full share there injoy."
The Showre-dissolver answerd: " What a speech
Hath past thy Pallate, O thou great in Reach
Of wrackfull Empire? Farre the Gods remaine
From scorne of thee, for 'twere a worke of paine,
To prosecute with ignominies One
That swaies our ablest and most ancient Throne.
For men, if any so beneath in power
Neglect thy high will, now, or any houre
That moves heereafter, take revenge to thee,
Soothe all thy will, and be thy pleasure free."
" Why then," said he, " thou blacker of the fumes
That dimme the Sun, my licenst power resumes
Act from thy speech: but I observe so much
And feare thy pleasure, that I dare not touch
At any inclination of mine owne
Till thy consenting influence be knowne.
But now, this curious-built Phaeacian Ship,
Returning from her Convoy, I will strip
Of all her fleeting matter, and to stone
Transforme and fixe it (just when she hath gone
Her full time home, and jets before their prease
In all her trim) amids the Sable Seas —
That they may cease to convoy strangers still,
When they shall see so like a mighty Hill
Their glory sticke before their Citie's grace,
And my hands cast a maske before her face."
" O friend," said Jove, " it shewes to me the best
Of al earth's objects, that their whole prease, drest
In all their wonder, neere their Towne shall stand
And stare upon a Stone, so neere the Land,
So like a Ship, and dam up all their lights
As if a Mountaine interposde their sights."
When Neptune heard this, he for Scheria went,
Whence the Phaeacians tooke their first descent.
Which when he reacht, and in her swiftest pride
The water-treader by the Citie's side
Came cutting close, close he came swiftly on,
Tooke her in violent hand, and to a Stone
Turnd all her sylvane substance, all below
Firmd her with Rootes and left her. This strange show
When the Phaeacians saw, they stupid stood,
And askt each other who amids the flood
Could fixe their Ship so in her full speed home,
And quite transparant make her bulke become?
Thus talkt they, but were farre from knowing how
These things had issue. Which their King did show,
And saide: " O friends, the ancient Prophesies
My Father told to me to all our eyes
Are now in proofe: he saide the time would come
When Neptune, for our safe conducting home
All sorts of Strangers (out of envy fir'd)
Would meete our fairest Ship as she retir'd,
And all the goodly Shape and speed we bost
Should like a Mountaine stand before us lost
Amids the moving waters — which we see
Perform'd in full end to our prophesie.
Heare then my counsaile, and obey me then:
Renounce henceforth our convoy home of men,
Who ever shall heereafter greete our Towne;
And to th'offended Deitie's Renowne
Twelve chosen Oxen let us sacred make,
That he may pitty us, and from us take
This shady Mountaine." They in feare obaide,
Slew all the Beeves, and to the Godhead praide,
The Dukes and Princes all ensphearing round
The sacred Altar. While whose Tops were croun'd,
Divine Ulysses (on his Countrie's brest
Laid bound in sleepe) now rose out of his rest,
Nor (being so long remov'd) the Region knew.
Besides which absence yet, Minerva threw
A cloud about him, to make strange the more
His safe arrivall, lest upon his Shore
He should make knowne his face and utter all
That might prevent th'event that was to fall —
Which she prepar'd so well that not his wife
(Presented to him) should perceive his life,
No Citizen, no Friend, till righteous Fate
Upon the wooers' wrongs were consummate.
Through which cloud all things show'd now to the King
Of forreign fashion — the enflowred Spring
Amongst the Trees there, the perpetuall wayes,
The Rockes, that did more high their foreheads raise
To his Rapt eye than naturally they did,
And all the Haven, in which a man seem'd hid
From winde and weather when storms loudest chid.
He therefore, being risen, stood and viewd
His countrey earth: which (not perceiv'd) he rew'd,
And, striking with his hurld-downe hands his Thyes,
He mourn'd, and saide: " O me! Againe where lyes
My desart way? To wrongfull men, and rude,
And with no Lawes of humane right indu'de?
Or are they humane, and of holy minds?
What fits my deede with these so many kinds
Of goods late given? What with my selfe wil floods
And Errors do? I would to God these Goods
Had rested with their Owners, and that I
Had falne on Kings of more Regality
To grace out my returne, that lov'd indeed,
And would have given me Consorts of fit speed
To my distresses' ending! But as now
All knowledge flyes me where I may bestow
My labour'd purchase, heere they shall not stay,
Lest what I car'd for others make their prey.
O Gods! I see the great Phaeacians then
Were not all just and understanding men,
That land me elsewhere than their vants pretended,
Assuring me my countrey should see ended
My miseries told them, yet now eate their vants.
O Jove! great Guardian of poore Suppliants,
That others sees and notes too, shutting in
All in thy plagues that most presume on Sin,
Revenge me on them. Let me number now
The goods they gave, to give my minde to know
If they have stolne none in their close retreat."
The goodly Caldrons then and Tripods (set
In severall rankes from out the heape) he told,
His rich wrought garments too, and all his Gold:
And nothing lack't — and yet this Man did mourne
The but supposd misse of his home returne.
And, creeping to the shore with much complaint,
Minerva (like a Shepheard, young and quaint,
As Kings' sonnes are, a double Mantle cast
Athwart his Shoulders, his faire goers grac'st
With fitted shooes, and in his hand a Dart)
Appear'd to him — whose sight rejoyc't his hart,
To whom he came, and saide: " O Friend! Since first
I meete your sight heere, be all good the worst
That can joyne our encounter. Fare you Faire,
Nor with adverse minde welcome my repaire,
But guard these goods of mine, and succour me.
As to a God I offer prayers to thee,
And low accesse make to thy loved knee.
Say truth, that I may know, what countrey then,
What commune people live heere, and what men?
Some famous Isle is this? Or gives it vent
(Being neere the Sea) to some rich Continent?"
She answer'd: " Stranger, what so ere you are,
Y'are either foolish or come passing farre,
That know not this Isle, and make that doubt troble,
For 'tis not so exceedingly ignoble
But passing many know it, and so many
That of all Nations there abides not any,
From where the Morning rises and the Sun,
To where the Even and Night their courses run,
But know this countrey. Rocky 'tis, and rough,
And so for use of horse unapt enough,
Yet with sad Barrennesse not much infested
Since clowds are heere in frequent raines digested
And flowry dewes. The compasse is not great,
The little yet well fild with wine and wheat.
It feeds a Goat and Oxe well, being still
Water'd with floods that ever over-fill
With heaven's continual showers, and woodded so
It makes a Spring of all the kindes that grow.
And therefore, Stranger, the extended name
Of this Dominion makes accesse by Fame
From this extreame part of Achaia
As farre as Ilion; and 'tis Ithaca."
This joy'd him much, that so unknowne a Land
Turn'd to his countrey. Yet so wise a hand
He carried, even of this joy flowne so hye,
That other end he put to his reply
Than straight to shew that joy, and lay abrode
His life to Strangers. Therefore he bestowd
A veile on Truth. For evermore did winde
About his bosome a most crafty minde,
Which thus his words shew'd: " I have farre at Sea,
In spacious Crete, heard speake of Ithaca,
Of which my selfe (it seemes) now reach the shore
With these my Fortunes — whose whole value more
I left in Crete amongst my children there,
From whence I flye for being the slaughterer
Of royall Idomen's most loved Son,
Swift-foote Orsilochus, that could out-run
Profest men for the race. Yet him I slue,
Because he would deprive me of my due
In Troyan prize: for which I suffer'd so
(The rude waves piercing) the redoubled wo
Of minde and body in the warres of men:
Nor did I gratifie his Father then
With any service, but as well as he
Sway'd in command of other Souldiery.
So, with a friend withdrawne, we way-laide him
When gloomy Night the cope of heaven did dim,
And no man knew. But (we lodg'd close) he came,
And I put out to him his vitall flame —
Whose slaughter having author'd with my sword,
I instant flight made, and straight fell aboord
A Ship of the renown'd Phaenician State,
When prayer and pay at a sufficient rate
Obtain'd my Passe of men in her command,
Whom I injoyn'd to set me on the land
Of Pylos, or of Elis the divine,
Where the Epeians in great Empire shine.
But force of weather check't that course to them,
Though (loath to faile me) to their most extreme
They spent their willing pow'rs. But, forc't from thence,
We err'd, and put in heere with much expence
Of Care and Labour, and in dead of Night,
When no man there serv'd any appetite
So much as with the Memory of food,
Though our estates exceeding Needy stood.
But, going ashore, we lay; when gentle sleepe
My weary pow'rs invaded, and from Ship
They, fetching these my Riches, with just hand
About me laide them, while upon the sand
Sleepe bound my senses; and for Sidon they
(Put off from hence) made saile, while heere I lay,
Left sad alone." The Goddesse laught, and tooke
His hand in hers, and with another looke
(Assuming then the likenesse of a Dame
Lovely and goodly, expert in the frame
Of vertuous Huswiferies) she answerd thus:
" He should be passing slie, and covetous
Of stealth in men's deceits that coted thee
In any craft, though any God should be
Ambitious to exceede in subtilty.
Thou still-wit-varying wretch! Insatiate
In over-reaches! Not secure thy state
Without these wiles, though on thy Native shore
Thou setst safe footing, but upon thy store
Of false words still spend, that even from thy byrth
Have bene thy best friends? Come: our either worth
Is knowne to either. Thou of Men art far
(For words and counsailes) the most singular,
But I above the Gods in both may bost
My still-tried Faculties. Yet thou hast lost
The knowledge even of me, the seede of Jove,
Pallas Athenia, that have still out-strove
In all thy Labors their extremes, and stood
Thy sure guard ever, making all thy good
Knowne to the good Phaeacians, and receiv'd.
And now againe I greete thee, to see weav'd
Fresh Counsailes for thee, and will take on me
The close reserving of these goods for thee,
Which the renown'd Phaeacian States bestow'd
At thy deduction homewards, onely mov'd
With my both spirit and counsell. All which grace
I now will amplifie, and tell what case
Thy houshold stands in, uttering all those paines
That of meere need yet still must racke thy vaines.
Do thou then freely beare, nor one word give
To Man nor Dame to shew thou yet dost live,
But silent suffer over all againe
Thy sorrowes past, and beare the wrongs of Men."
" Goddesse," said he, " unjust men and unwise,
That author injuries and vanities,
By vanities and wrongs should rather be
Bound to this ill-abearing destiny
Than just and wise men. What delight hath heaven,
That lives unhurt it selfe, to suffer given
Up to all domage those poore few that strive
To imitate it and like the Deities live?
But where you wonder that I know you not
Through all your changes, that skill is not got
By sleight or Art, since thy most hard-hit face
Is still distinguisht by thy free-given grace.
And therefore truly to acknowledge thee
In thy encounters is a maistery
In men most knowing. For to all men thou
Tak'st severall likenesse. All men thinke they know
Thee in their wits. But, since thy seeming view
Appeares to all and yet thy truth to few,
Through all thy changes to discern thee right
Askes chiefe Love to thee, and inspired light.
But this I surely know — that some yeares past
I have beene often with thy presence grac'st,
All time the sonnes of Greece wag'd warre at Troy;
But when Fate's full houre let our swords enjoy
Our vowes in sacke of Priam's lofty Towne,
Our Ships all boorded, and when God had blowne
Our Fleete in sunder, I could never see
The seede of Jove, nor once distinguish thee
Boording my Ship to take one woe from me —
But onely in my proper spirit involv'd,
Err'd here and there quite slaine, til heaven dissolv'd
Me and my ill: which chanc't not, till thy grace
By open speech confirm'd me, in a place
Fruitfull of people, where, in person, thou
Didst give me guide and all their City show;
And that was the renown'd Phaeacian earth.
Now then, even by the author of thy Birth,
Vouchsafe my doubt the Truth (for farre it flies
My thoughts, that thus should fall into mine eies
Conspicuous Ithaca, but feare I touch
At some farre Shore, and that thy wit is such
Thou dost delude me). Is it sure the same
Most honor'd earth that beares my countrie's name?"
" I see," sayd she, " thou wilt be ever thus
In every worldly good incredulous,
And therefore have no more the power to see
Fraile life more plagu'd with infelicity
In one so eloquent, ingenious, wise.
Another man, that so long miseries
Had kept from his lov'd home, and thus return'd
To see his house, wife, children, would have burn'd
In headlong lust to visit. Yet t'enquire
What states they hold affects not thy desire,
Till thou hast tried if in thy wife there be
A Sorrow, wasting dayes and nights for thee
In Loving teares, that then the sight may prove
A full reward for either's mutuall Love.
But I would never credit in you both
Least cause of sorrow, but well knew the troth
Of this thine owne returne, though all thy Friends,
I knew as well, should make returnlesse ends —
Yet would not crosse mine Unkle Neptune so
To stand their safeguard, since so high did go
His wrath for thy extinction of the eye
Of his lov'd sonne. Come then, I'le shew thee why
I call this Isle thy Ithaca. To ground
Thy credit on my words — this haven is own'd
By th'aged Sea god Phorcys, in whose Brow
This is the Olive with the ample bow,
And heere, close by, the pleasant-shaded Cave
That to the Fount-Nymphs th'Ithacensians gave
As Sacred to their pleasures. Heere doth run
The large and cover'd den where thou hast done
Hundreds of Offerings to the Naiades.
Here Mount Neritus shakes his curled Tresse
Of shady woods." This sayd, she cleer'd the clowd
That first deceyv'd his eyes, and all things show'd
His countrey to him. Glad he stood with sight
Of his lov'd Soile, and kist it with delight.
And instantly to all the Nymphs hee paide
(With hands held up to heaven) these vowes, and said:
" Ye Nymphs the Naiades, great seed of Jove,
I had conceite that never more should move
Your sight in these spheres of my erring eyes;
And therefore, in the fuller Sacrifice
Of my heart's gratitude, rejoyce, till more
I pay your Names in Offerings as before.
Which heere I vow, if Jove's benigne descent
(The mighty Pillager) with life convent
My person home and to my sav'd decease
Of my lov'd sonne's sight adde the sweet increase."
" Be confident," saide Pallas, " nor oppresse
Thy spirits with care of these performances;
But these thy fortunes let us straight repose
In this divine Cave's bosome, that may close
Reserve their value, and we then may see
How best to order other acts to thee."
Thus entred she the light-excluding Cave,
And through it sought some inmost nooke to save
The Gold, the great Brasse, and robes richly wrought,
Given to Ulysses. All which in he brought,
Laid downe in heape, and she impos'd a stone
Close to the caverne's mouth. Then sat they on
The sacred Olive's roote, consulting how
To act th'insulting wooers' overthrow —
When Pallas saide: " Examine now the means
That best may lay hand on the impudence
Of those proud wooers, that have now three yeares
Thy Roofe's rule swai'd and bene bold Offerers
Of suite and gifts to thy renowned wife —
Who for thy absence all her desolate life
Dissolves in teares till thy desir'd returne.
Yet all her wooers, while shee thus doth mourne,
She holds in hope, and every one affords
(In fore-sent message) promise. But her words
Beare other utterance than her heart approves."
" O Gods," said Ithacus, " it now behoves
My Fate to end me in the ill deceasse
That Agamemnon underwent, unlesse
You tell me, and in time, their close intents.
Advise then meanes to the reveng'd events
We both resolve on. Be thy selfe so kinde
To stand close to me, and but such a minde
Breath in my bosome as when th'Ilian Towres
We tore in Cinders. O if equall powres
Thou wouldst enflame amids my Nerves as then,
I could encounter with three hundred men —
Thy onely selfe, great Goddesse, had to friend
In those brave ardors thou wer't wont t'extend."
" I will be strongly with thee," answer'd she,
" Nor must thou faile, but do thy part with me —
When both whose pow'rs combine, I hope the bloods
And braines of some of these that waste thy goods
Shall strew thy goodly Pavements. Joyne we then:
I first will render thee unknowne to men,
And on thy solid Lineaments make dry
Thy now smooth skin, thy bright-brown curles imply
In hoary mattings, thy broad shoulders cloath
In such a cloake as every eye shall loath,
Thy bright eyes bleare and wrinkle — and so change
Thy forme at all parts that thou shalt be strange
To all the Wooers, thy yong sonne, and wife.
But to thy Herdsman first present thy life,
That guards thy Swine and wisheth well to thee,
That loves thy sonne and wife Penelope.
Thy search shall finde him set aside his Heard,
That are with tast-delighting Acornes rear'd
And drinke the darke-deepe water of the Spring
Bright Arethusa, the most nourishing
Raiser of Heards. There stay, and (taking seate
Aside thy Heardsman) of the whole State treate
Of home occurrents, while I make accesse
To faire-dame-breeding Sparta for regresse
Of lov'd Telemachus, who went in quest
Of thy lov'd fame and liv'd the welcome Guest
Of Menelaus." The much-knower saide:
" Why wouldst not thou (in whose grave brest is bred
The Art to order all acts) tell in this
His error to him? Let those yeares of his
Amids the rude seas wander and sustaine
The woes there raging, while unworthy men
Devoure his fortunes?" " Let not care extend
Thy heart for him," said she, " my selfe did send
His person in thy search, to set his worth
(By good fame blowne) to such a distance forth.
Nor suffers he in any least degree
The griefe you feare, but all variety
That Plenty can yeeld in her quietst fare
In Menelaus' Court doth sit and share.
In whose returne from home the Wooers yet
Lay bloudy ambush, and a Ship have set
To Sea to intercept his life before
He touch againe his birth's attempted shore.
All which my thoughts say they shall never do,
But rather that the earth shall overgo
Some one at least of these Love-making men
By which thy goods so much empaire sustain."
Thus using certaine secret words to him,
She toucht him with her rod, and every lim
Was hid all over with a wither'd skin,
His bright eies blear'd, his brown curles white and thin,
And all things did an aged man present.
Then (for his owne weeds) Shirt and coat all rent,
Tann'd, and all sootied with noisome smoke,
She put him on, and, over all, a cloke
Made of a Stag's huge hide of which was worne
The haire quite off, a scrip all patcht and torne,
Hung by a cord oft broke and knit againe,
And with a staffe did his old limbes sustaine.
Thus, having both consulted of th'event,
They parted both: and forth to Sparta went
The gray-ey'd Goddesse, to see all things done
That appertain'd to wise Ulysses' sonne.