Classic Poem

Pallas (the Goddesse with the sparkling eyes)
Excites Penelope t'object the prise
(The Bow and bright steeles) to the wooers' strength;
And here began the strife and blood at length.
She first ascended by a lofty staire
Her utmost chamber; of whose doore her faire
And halfe transparent hand receiv'd the Key,
Bright, brazen, bitted passing curiously,
And at it hung a knob of Ivory.
And this did leade her where was strongly kept
The treasure Royall, in whose store lay heap't
Gold, Brasse, and Steele, engraven with infinite Art,
The crooked Bowe and Arrowy quiver part
Of that rich Magazin. In the Quiver were
Arrowes a number, sharpe, and sighing gere.
The Bow was given by kinde Eurytides
(Iphitus, fashion'd like the Deities)
To yong Ulysses, when within the Roofe
Of wise Ortilochus their passe had proofe
Of mutuall meeting in Messena; where
Ulysses claim'd a debt, to whose pay were
The whole Messenian people bound, since they
From Ithaca had forc't a wealthy prey
Of Sheepe and Sheepherds. In their ships they thrust
Three hundred Sheepe together; for whose just
And instant rendry old Laertes sent
Ulysses his Ambassador, that went
A long way in the Ambassie, yet then
Bore but the formost Prime of yongest men —
His Father sending first to that affaire
His gravest Counsailors, and then his heire.
Iphitus made his way there, having lost
Twelve female horse and Mules commended most
For use of burthen, which were after cause
Of death and Fate to him. For (past all Lawes
Of hospitality) Jove's mighty Son
(Skill'd in great Acts) was his confusion
Close by his house, though at that time his guest,
Respecting neither the apposed Feast
And hospitable Table that in love
He set before him, nor the voyce of Jove —
But, seizing first his Mares, he after slew
His host himselfe. From those Mares' serch now grew
Ulysses knowne t'Iphitus; who that Bow
At their encounter did in love bestow,
Which great Eurytus' hand had borne before
(Iphitus' Father) who (at death's sad dore)
In his steepe Turrets left it to his Son.
Ulysses gave him a keene Faulchion
And mighty Lance, and thus began they there
Their fatall Loves. For after never were
Their mutuall Tables to each other knowne,
Because Jove's Son th'unworthy part had showne
Of slaughtering this God-like loving man,
Eurytus' Son, who with that Bow began
And ended love t'Ulysses — who so deare
A gift esteem'd it that he would not beare
In his black Fleete that guest-rite to the war,
But, in fit memory of one so farre
In his affection, brought it home and kept
His treasure with it, where till now it slept.
And now the Queene of women had intent
To give it use; and therefore made ascent
Up all the staire's height to the chamber dore,
Whose shining leaves two bright Pilasters bore
To such a Close, when both together went,
It would resist the Aire in their consent.
The Ring she tooke then, and did draw aside
A barre that ran within, and then implide
The Key into the Locke — which gave a sound
(The Bolt then shooting) as in pasture ground
A Bull doth Low and make the valleys ring:
So loud the Locke humm'd, when it loosd his Spring,
And ope the doores flew. In she went along
The lofty chamber, that was boorded strong
With heart of Oake, which many yeares ago
The Architect did smooth and polish so
That now as then he made it freshly shine,
And tried the evennesse of it with a Line.
There stood in this roome Presses that enclos'd
Robes odoriferous, by which repos'd
The Bow was upon pins, nor from it farre
Hung the round Quiver, glittering like a Starre —
Both which her white extended hand tooke downe.
Then sate she low, and made her lap a Crowne
Of both those Reliques, which she wept to see,
And cried quite out with loving memory
Of her deare Lord: to whose worth paying then
Kinde debts enow, she left, and to the men
Vow'd to her wooing brought the crooked Bow
And shaft-receiving Quiver, that did flow
With arrowes, beating sighes up where they fell.
Then with another Chist, repleate as well
With Games won by the King of Steele and Brasse,
Her Maids attended — past whom making passe
To where her wooers were, she made her stay
Amids the faire Hall doore, and kept the ray
Of her bright count'nance hid with veyles so thin
That, though they seem'd t'expose, they let love in.
Her Maids on both sides stood, and thus she spake:
" Heare me, ye wooers, that a pleasure take
To do me sorrow and my house invade
To eate and drinke, as if 'twere onely made
To serve your Rapines — my Lord long away,
And you allow'd no colour for your stay
But his still absence, striving who shall frame
Me for his wife; and (since 'tis made a game)
I heere propose divine Ulysses' Bow
For that great Maister-peece to which ye vow.
He that can draw it with least show to strive,
And through these twelve Ax-heads an arrow drive,
Him will I follow, and this house forgo
That nourisht me a Maid, now furnisht so
With all things fit, and which I so esteeme
That I shall still live in it in my dream."
This said, she made Eumaeus give it them.
He tooke, and laide it by, and wept for wo,
And like him wept Philaetius, when the Bow
Of which his King was bearer he beheld.
Their teares Antinous' manhood much refeld,
And said: " Ye rustick fooles! that still each day
Your minds give over to this vaine dismay,
Why weepe ye, wretches, and the widdowe's eyes
Tempt with renew'd thought, that would otherwise
Depose her sorrowes, since her Lord is dead
And teares are idle? Sit, and eate your bread,
Nor whisper more a word; or get ye gone,
And weepe without doores. Let this Bow alone
To our out-matcht contention. For I feare
The Bow will scarse yeeld draught to any heere.
Heere no such man lives as Laertes' Son
Amongst us all. I knew him; thought puts on
His looke's sight now, me thinkes, though then a child."
Thus shew'd his words doubt, yet his hopes enstild
His strength the stretcher of Ulysses' string
And his steele's piercer. But his shaft must sing
Through his piercst Pallat first, whom so he wrong'd
In his free roofe, and made the rest ill tongu'd
Against his vertues. Then the sacred heat
That spirited his Son did further set
Their confidence on fire, and said: " O Frends,
Jove hath bereft my wits. The Queene intends
(Though I must grant her wise) ere long to leave
Ulysses' Court, and to her bed receave
Some other Lord: yet, notwithstanding, I
Am forc't to laugh and set my pleasures hye
Like one mad sicke. But, wooers, since ye have
An object for your trials now so brave
As all the broad Achaian earth exceeds,
As sacred Pylos, as the Argive breeds,
As blacke Epirus, as Mycena's birth,
And as the more-fam'd Ithacensian earth,
All which your selves well know, and oft have saide
(For what neede hath my Mother of my aide
In her advancement?) — tender no excuse
For least delay, nor too much time profuse
In stay to draw this Bow; but draw it straight,
Shoot, and the steeles pierce, make all see how sleight
You make these poore barres to so rich a prise.
No eagrer yet? Come on. My faculties
Shall try the Bowe's strength and the pierced steele.
I will not for my reverend Mother feele
The sorrowes that I know will seize my heart,
To see her follow any and depart
From her so long-held home, but first extend
The Bow and Arrow to their tender'd end.
For I am onely to succeede my Sire
In guard of his games, and let none aspire
To their besides possession." This said,
His purple Robe he cast off. By he laide
His well-edg'd sword; and first, a severall pit
He digg'd for every Axe, and strengthen'd it
With earth close ramm'd about it — on a rew
Set them of one height, by a Line he drew
Along the whole twelve, and so orderly
Did every deed belonging (yet his eye
Never before beholding how 'twas done)
That in amaze rose all his lookers on.
Then stood he neere the doore, and prov'd to draw
The stubborne Bow — thrice tried, and thrice gave Law
To his uncrown'd attempts, the fourth assay
With all force offering, which a signe gave stay
Given by his Father, though hee shew'd a minde
As if he stood right heartily inclinde
To perfect the exploite, when all was done
In onely drift to set the wooers on.
His weaknesse yet confest, he said: " O shame!
I either shall be ever of no name,
But prove a wretch; or else I am too yong,
And must not now presume on pow'rs so strong
As sinewes yet more growing may ingraft,
To turne a man quite over with a shaft.
Besides, to men whose Nerves are best prepar'd,
All great Adventures at first proofe are hard.
But come, you stronger men, attempt this Bow,
And let us end our labour." Thus below
A well-joyn'd boord he laide it, and close by
The brightly-headed shaft, then thron'd his Thie
Amidst his late-left seate. Antinous then
Bad all arise; but first, who did sustaine
The cup's state ever, and did sacrifice
Before they eate still, and that man bad rise,
Since on the other's right hand he was plac't,
Because he held the right hand's rising grac't
With best successe still. This direction wun
Supreame applause, and first rose oenops' Son,
Leodes, that was Priest to all the rest,
Sate lowest with the Cup still, and their jest
Could never like, but ever was the man
That checkt their follies: and he now began
To taste the Bow, the sharpe shaft tooke, tug'd hard,
And held aloft, and, till he quite had marr'd
His delicate tender fingers, could not stir
The churlish string — who therefore did refer
The game to others, saying that same Bow
(In his presage) would prove the overthrow
Of many a chiefe man there, nor thought the Fate
Was any whit austere, since Death's short date
Were much the better taken than long life
Without the object of their amorous strife,
For whom they had burn'd out so many dayes
To finde still other, nothing but delayes
Obtaining in them; and affirm'd that now
Some hop't to have her, but, when that tough Bow
They all had tried, and seene the utmost done,
They must rest pleasd to cease, and wow some one
Of all their other faire veyl'd Grecian Dames
With gifts and dow'r and Hymeneal Flames —
Let her love light to him that most will give,
And whom the Nuptiall destiny did drive.
Thus laid he on the well-joyn'd polisht Bord
The Bow and bright-pil't shaft, and then restor'd
His seate his right. To him Antinous
Gave bitter language, and reprov'd him thus:
" What words, Leodes, passe thy speeche's guard,
That 'tis a worke to beare? And set so hard,
They set up my disdaine. This Bow must end
The best of us, since thy armes cannot lend
The string least motion? Thy Mother's throwes
Brought never forth thy armes to draught of Bowes
Or knitting shafts off. Though thou canst not draw
The sturdy Plant, thou art to us no law.
Melanthius! Light a fire, and set thereat
A chaire and cushions, and that masse of fat
That lyes within bring out, that we may set
Our Pages to this Bow, to see it heat
And suppl'd with the suet — and then wee
May give it draught, and pay this great decree
Utmost performance." He a mighty fire
Gave instant flame, put into act th'entire
Command layd on him, chaire and cushions set,
Laid on the Bow, which straight the Pages het,
Chaft, suppl'd with the Suet to their most;
And still was all their Unctuous labour lost,
All wooers' strengths too indigent and pore
To draw that Bow. Antinous' armes it tore,
And great Eurymachus' (the both cleere best) —
Yet both it tir'd and made them glad to rest.
Forth then went both the Swaines, and after them
Divine Ulysses — when, being past th'extreme
Of all the Gates, with winning words he tride
Their loves, and this askt: " Shall my counsailes hide
Their depths from you? My mind would gladly know
If sodainly Ulysses had his Vow
Made good for home, and had some God to guide
His steps and strokes to wreak these wooers' pride,
Would your aids joyne on his part, or with theirs?
How stand your hearts affected?" They made prayr's
That some God would please to returne their Lord;
He then should see how farre they would affoord
Their lives for his. He, seeing their truth, replied:
" I am your Lord, through many a sufferance tried,
Arriv'd now heere, whom twenty yeares have held
From foorth my Country: yet are not conceal'd
From my sure knowledge your desires to see
My safe returne. Of all the company
Now serving heere besides, not one but you
Mine eare hath witnest willing to bestow
Their wishes of my life, so long held dead.
I therefore vow (which shall be perfected)
That if God please beneath my hand to leave
These wooers livelesse, ye shall both receive
Wives from that hand, and meanes, and neere to me
Have houses built to you, and both shall be
As friends and brothers to my onely Sonne.
And that ye well may know me, and be wonne
To that assurance, the infallible Signe
The white-tooth'd Bore gave this markt knee of mine,
When in Parnassus he was held in chase
By me and by my famous Grandsire's race,
I'le let you see." Thus sever'd he his weede
From that his wound, and every word had deed
In their sure knowledges — which made them cast
Their armes about him, his broade brest imbrac't,
His necke and shoulders kist. And him, as well,
Did those true powers of humane love compell
To kisse their heads and hands, and to their mone
Had sent the free light of the cheerefull Sunne
Had not Ulysses broke the ruth, and saide:
" Cease teares and sorrowes, lest wee prove displaide
By some that issue from the house, and they
Relate to those within. Take each his way,
Not altogether in, but one by one,
First I, then you. And then see this be done:
The envious wooers will by no meanes give
The offer of the Bow and Arrow leave
To come at me; spight then their pride, do thou,
My good Eumaeus, bring both shaft and Bow
To my hand's proofe, and charge the maides before
That instantly they shut in every doore,
That they themselves (if any tumult rise
Beneath my Roofes by any that envies
My will to undertake the Game) may gaine
No passage forth, but close at worke containe
With all free quiet, or, at least, constrain'd.
And therefore, my Philaetius, see maintain'd
(When close the gates are shut) their closure fast,
To which end be it thy sole worke to cast
Their chaines before them." This said, in he led,
Tooke first his seate, and then they seconded
His entry with their owne. Then tooke in hand
Eurymachus the Bow, made close his stand
Aside the fire, at whose heate here and there
He warm'd and suppl'd it, yet could not stere
To any draught the string, with all his Art;
And therefore sweld in him his glorious heart,
Affirming that himselfe and all his friends
Had cause to greeve, not onely that their ends
They mist in marriage (since enow besides
Kinde Grecian Dames there liv'd to be their Brides
In Ithaca and other bordering Townes)
But that to all times future their renownes
Would stand disparag'd, if Ulysses' Bow
They could not drawe, and yet his wife would woo.
Antinous answer'd that there could ensue
No shame at all to them, for well he knew
That this day was kept holy to the Sunne
By all the City, and there should be done
No such prophane act; therefore bad lay by
The Bow for that day; but the maistery
Of Axes that were set up still might stand,
Since that no labour was, nor any hand
Would offer to invade Ulysses' house
To take, or touch with surreptitious
Or violent hand, what there was left for use.
He therefore bad the Cup-bearer infuse
Wine to the Bolles, that so with sacrifice
They might let rest the shooting exercise,
And in the morning make Melanthius bring
The cheefe Goats of his Herd, that to the King
Of Bowes and Archers they might burne the Thyes
For good successe, and then attempt the prize.
The rest sate pleasd with this: the Heralds straite
Pour'd water on their hands: each Page did waite
With his crown'd cup of wine, serv'd every man
Till all were satisfied: and then began
Ulysses' plot of his close purpose, thus:
" Heare me, ye much renown'd Eurymachus,
And King Antinous, in cheefe, who well,
And with decorum sacred, doth compell
This daye's observance, and to let lay downe
The Bow all this light, giving Gods their owne.
The morning's labour God the more wil blesse,
And strength bestow, where he himselfe shall please.
Against which time, let me presume to pray
Your favours with the rest, that this assay
May my olde armes proove, trying if there lye
In my poore powers the same activity
That long since crown'd them — or if needy fare
And desolate wandring have the web worne bare
Of my life's thred at all parts, that no more
Can furnish these affaires as heeretofore."
This heat their spleens past measure, blown with fear
Lest his loth'd temples would the garland weare
Of that Bowe's draught, Antinous using speech
To this sowre purpose: " Thou most arrant wretch
Of all guests breathing, in no least degree
Grac't with a humane soule! It serves not thee
To feast in peace with us, take equall share
Of what we reach to, sit and all things heare
That we speake freely (which no begging guest
Did ever yet), but thou must make request
To mixe with us in merit of the Queene.
But wine enflames thee, that hath ever beene
The bane of men, whoever yet would take
Th'excesse it offers, and the meane forsake.
Wine spoilde the Centaur great Eurytion
In guest-rites with the mighty-minded Son
Of bolde Ixion, in his way to warre
Against the Lapithes; who, driven as farre
As madnesse with the bold effects of wine,
Did outrage to his kinde hoast, and decline
Other Heroes from him feasted there
With so much anger that they left their cheere,
And dragg'd him forth the fore-court, slit his nose,
Cropt both his eares; and in the ill dispose
His minde then sufferd, drew the fatall day
On his head with his hoast. For thence the fray
Betwixt the Centaurs and the Lapithes
Had mortall act. But he, for his excesse
In spoile of wine, far'd worst himselfe — as thou
For thy large cups, if thy armes draw the Bow,
My minde foretels shalt feare; for not a man
Of all our Consort, that in wisedome can
Boast any fit share, will take prayers then,
But to Echetus, the most sterne of men,
A blacke Saile freight with thee, whose worst of ill,
Be sure, is past all ransome. Sit then still,
Drinke temperately, and never more contend
With men your yongers." This the Queene did end
With her defence of him, and told his Foe
It was not faire nor equall t'overcrow
The poorest Guest her sonne pleas'd t'entertaine
In his free Turrets, with so proud a straine
Of threats and bravings — asking if he thought
That, if the stranger to his armes had brought
The stubborne Bow downe, he should marry her
And beare her home? And said himself should erre
In no such hope; nor of them all the best
That greev'd at any good she did her guest
Should banquet there, since it in no sort show'd
Noblesse in them, nor paid her what she ow'd
Her owne free rule there. This Eurymachus
Confirm'd and saide: " Nor feeds it hope in us,
Icarius' daughter, to solemnize Rites
Of Nuptials with thee, nor in noblest sights
It can shew comely; but to our respects
The rumor both of sexes and of Sects
Amongst the people would breede shame and feare,
Lest any worst Greeke said: " See, men that were
Of meane deservings will presume t'aspire
To his wive's bed whom all men did admire
For fame and merit — could not draw his Bow,
And yet his wife had foolish pride to woo:
When straight an errant Begger comes and drawes
The Bow with ease, performing all the Lawes
The game beside contain'd. " And this would thus
Prove both indignity and shame to us."
The Queene replied: " The fame of men I see
Beares much price in your great suppos'd degree;
Yet who can prove (amongst the people great)
That of one so esteem'd of them the seat
Doth so defame and ruine? And, beside,
With what right is this guest thus vilefied
In your high censures, when the man in blood
Is well composd and great, his parents good?
And therefore give the Bow to him, to try
His Birth and breeding by his Chevalry.
If his armes draw it, and that Phaebus stands
So great a glory to his strength, my hands
Shall adde this guerdon — every sort of weed,
A two-edg'd Sword and Lance to keepe him freed
From Dogs and Men hereafter, and dismis
His worth to what place tends that heart of his."
Her sonne gave answere, that it was a wrong
To his free sway, in all things that belong
To guard of that house, to demand the Bow
Of any wooer, and the use bestow
Upon the stranger. For the Bow was his
To give or to with-hold, no maisteries
Of her proposing giving any power
T'empaire his right in things for any wower,
Or any that rough Ithaca affords,
Any that Elis; of which no man's words
Nor pow'rs should curbe him (stood he so enclin'd)
To see the Bow in absolute gift resign'd
To that his guest to beare and use at will.
And therefore bad his Mother keepe her still
Amongst her women at her Rocke and Loome;
Bowes were for men, and this Bow did become
Past al men's his disposure, since his Sire
Left it to him, and all the house entire.
She stood dismaid at this, and in her minde
His wise words laide up, standing so inclinde
As he had will'd — with all her women going
Up to her chamber, there her teares bestowing
(As every night she did) on her lov'd Lord,
Til sleepe and Pallas her fit rest restor'd.
The Bow Eumaeus tooke, and bore away —
Which up in tumult, and almost in fray,
Put all the wooers, one enquiring thus:
" Whether, rogue, abject, wilt thou beare from us
That Bow proposd? Lay downe, or I protest
Thy dogs shal eate thee, that thou nourishest
To guard thy Swine, amongst whom (left of all)
Thy life shal leave thee, if the Festivall
We now observe to Phaebus may our zeales
Grace with his aide, and all the Deities else."
This threat made good Eumaeus yeelde the Bow
To his late place, not knowing what might grow
From such a multitude. And then fell on
Telemachus with threats, and saide: " Set gon
That Bow yet further: tis no servant's part
To serve too many Maisters: raise your hart
And beare it off, lest (though your yonger) yet
With stones I pelt you to the field with it.
If you and I close, I shal proove too strong.
I wish as much too hard for all this throng
The Gods would make me! I should quickly send
Some after with just sorrow to their end,
They waste my victles so, and ply my cup,
And do me such shrewd turnes still." This put up
The wooers all in Laughters, and put downe
Their angers to him, that so late were growne
So grave and bloody — which resolv'd that feare
Of good Eumaeus, who did take and beare
The King the Bow, call'd Nurse, and bad her make
The doores all sure, that, if men's tumults take
The eares of some within, they may not fly,
But keepe at worke still close and silently.
These words put wings to her, and close she put
The chamber doore. The Court gates then were shut
By kind Philaetius, who straight did go
From out the Hall, and in the Portico
Found laid a Gable of a Ship, compos'd
Of spongy Bulrushes — with which hee clos'd
(In winding round about them) the Court gates,
Then tooke his place againe, to view the Fates
That quickly follow'd. When he came, he saw
Ulysses viewing, ere he tried to draw,
The famous Bow, which every way he mov'd,
Up and downe turning it — in which he prov'd
The plight it was in, fearing chiefly lest
The hornes were eate with wormes in so long rest.
But what his thoughts intended, turning so,
And keeping such a search about the Bow,
The wooers, little knowing, fell to jest,
And said: " Past doubt, he is a man profest
In Bowyer's craft, and sees quite through the wood,
Or something (certaine) to be understood
There is in this his turning of it still.
A cunning Rogue he is at any ill."
Then spake another proud one: " Would to heaven
I might (at will) get Gold, till he hath geven
That Bow his draught!" With these sharp jests did these
Delightsome woo'rs their fatall humors please.
But when the wise Ulysses once had laide
His fingers on it, and to proofe survaide
The stil sound plight it held, as one of skill
In song and of the Harpe doth at his will,
In tuning of his Instrument, extend
A string out with his pin, touch all, and lend
To every wel-wreath'd string his perfect sound,
Strooke all togither — with such ease drew round
The King the Bow. Then twang'd he up the string,
That as a Swallow in the aire doth sing
With no continu'd tune, but (pausing still)
Twinkes out her scatter'd voice in accents shrill —
So sharpe the string sung when he gave it touch,
Once having bent and drawne it. Which so much
Amaz'd the wooers, that their colours went
And came most grievously. And then Jove rent
The aire with thunder, which at heart did chere
The now-enough-sustaining Traveller,
That Jove againe would his attempt enable.
Then tooke he into hand from off the Table
The first drawne arrow — and a number more
Spent shortly on the wooers — but this one
He measur'd by his arme (as if not knowne
The length were to him), nockt it then, and drew,
And through the Axes, at the first hole, flew
The steele-chardg'd arrow — which when he had done,
He thus bespake the Prince: " You have not wonne
Disgrace yet by your Guest, for I have strook
The marke I shot at, and no such toile tooke
In wearying the Bow with fat and fire
As did the wooers. Yet reserv'd entire
(Thanke heaven) my strength is, and my selfe am tried
No man to be so basely vilified
As these men pleas'd to thinke me. But free way
Take that, and all their pleasures: and while Day
Holds her Torch to you, and the howre of feast
Hath now full date, give banquet and the rest
(Poeme and Harpe) that grace a wel-fill'd boorde."
This saide, he beckn'd to his Sonne, whose sword
He straight girt to him, tooke to hand his Lance,
And, compleate arm'd, did to his Sire advance.